Grace A. Johnson's Blog: Of Blades & Thorns, page 10

2022 highlights: films & tv series

Here’s a new one for me: movies and TV shows. I have never kept track of what I’ve watched until 2022 (which is something I now regret, because I love being able to look back over everything I watched the past year), which means I get to share with y’all my viewing highlights!

And here’s a fun fact for ya: if I’m mentioning it in this post, chances are the movie or series in question is clean—or at least not full of political propaganda, explicit sexual content, or other nasty things. There’s some violence and language in a few of these, but I watched every single item on this list with my parents and younger siblings (the youngest of which is four years old), so you don’t have to worry overmuch (or anymuch, as Crimson says) about the content! If you are interested in one (or more) of the movies/series I mention and want more information on the content, please feel free to ask me!

favorite films

I got to kick off 2022 with none other than Casablanca, the award-winning classic I’ve heard so much about but never really heard about. Despite the fact that this WWII-era film is a forbidden love romance, it was actually so good and just amazingly well-done. We were all impressed by how the scriptwriters handled the trope in a moral and respectable manner. *applause rings out* Even in historical culture, but especially in today’s, adultery is glorified and romanticized, so it was such a refresher to find something that (1) showed what true sacrificial love looks like and (2) didn’t paint adultery to be a fun and romantic little game, but a weighty sin.

Otherwise, Ingrid Bergman is so gorgeous, Humphrey Bogart is such a classic, I want to memorize all the iconic lines, and I see now why Remington always loved this movie. (Bonus points to anyone who caught that reference.)

One of my other favorite films was, surprisingly, The Last Samurai. If you aren’t bothered by violence and gore, this R-rated movie is actually really clean—and so rich! The visuals and the setting are stunning (19th century Japan, anyone?), Tom Cruise did not look/act like Tom Cruise so I actually liked him, they portrayed Custer/his battles accurately (at least from what I know; I’m just glad they didn’t glorify him), and I did not see this as a “White Savior” movie at all.

Basically, it’s like The Patriot but in Japan (horrible comparison, but also somewhat accurate?), and I loved it. I absolutely loved it.

Lastly, Sense & Sensibility. I am thoroughly ashamed of myself for not having watched this sooner! My mama saw it when she was in high school and loved it, but when I was younger, I tried the first page of S&S and couldn’t bear it, so I just knew I’d dislike the movie...and after I read P&P (and promptly fell in love with Austen), I wanted to wait until after I read S&S.

But I didn’t wait, and I am so glad, because this was so good, and now I wanna read S&S so bad. Also, Colonel Brandon. Darcy may have competition...

favorite film series

Signed, Sealed, Delivered.

End of story.

Y’all. This was a series of Hallmark movies, but it was actually good? Phenomenal, in fact? Like, how???

I don’t know. All in know is that the combination of postal mysteries, quirky side characters, slow-burn romance, and OLIVER O’TOOLE is perfection.

I loved this so much I created a Pinterest board for Oliver and changed my ringtone to “Signed, Sealed, Delivered, I’m Yours” by Stevie Wonder (such a good song, by the way).

favorite tv series

LOIS & CLARK.

Did I fall in love with this even more than SSD?

Maybe…

Did that have anything do to with young Dean Cain?

Maybe…

Did I accidentally spell Dead Cain instead of Dean Cain?

Yes.

Case in point, this show made me a Superman fan (which is...shocking, to say the least), and it is pure underrated 90s gold. Forget Friends. Watch Lois & Clark. Sure, it’s got those suspend-belief, comic-book-cheesy moments, and Supe’s flying is about as cringey as the 90s gets, and the first season is a little sketchy with Cat in it...but y’all. I adore this show so much I could cry just thinking about it. It’s absolutely everything I ever wanted in a TV series: action, adventure, comedy, beautiful, beautiful romance, a superhero, and a heroine I love.

I already want to rewatch it.

favorite new releases

Persuasion, Bad Guys, The Santa Clauses, The Book of Boba Fett, Obi-Wan Kenobi, and National Treasure: Edge of History are basically the only new releases I watched this year. Okay, we also saw Jurassic World: Dominion, Spiderman: No Way Home, Uncharted, and Minions: The Rise of Gru...but they weren’t favorites, so I technically shouldn’t even be mentioning them.

Persuasion was...not what I wanted but better than I expected? I just...I have thoughts. And I meant to write them down and post them back in August, but time got away from me, so…

Bad Guys was good as far as animated children’s movies go, but I personally liked the nostalgic lack of propaganda and inspiration messages.

The Santa Clauses was Tim Allen as Santa. The end. Okay, technically, it was terrible and I’m so sad that they didn’t do something better for my favorite Santa and his beautiful family...but it could’ve been much worse. And I’m grateful they did do something to bring him back. The execution wasn’t great, but obviously it wasn’t awful enough to be excluded from the list.

(Also, if anyone wants a history/mythology essay inspired by the show, please let me know.)

The Book of Boba Fett and Obi-Wan Kenobi. I enjoyed Fett’s show (including the ability to make fun of the weird lizard-up-the-nose thing), but Kenobi’s fell flat. Why do I keep complaining about my so-called “favorites”? Because they’re new, and therefore they require critique.

I loved be able to see Hayden as Anakin again; I just felt like they were grasping at straws. They didn’t need Kenobi to fill a hole, and since Kenobi didn’t depart from the main storyline (like Mando and Fett), there was really no purpose for it except to give the fans something to play with. (Kinda like with The Santa Clauses.)

National Treasure: Edge of History. Okay, now this is how you do a new series. You don’t reboot or rewrite the original and you don’t try to add new things to what already existed...you just *gasp* spin off of the original with new characters and plots while weaving the characters of the original in to create a beautiful tapestry. I will admit, there are some elements of Edge I’m not a fan of, but (1) Riley Poole, (2) the anticipation of Ben Gates in Season 2, and (3) a wonderful heroine I actually like totally trumps all those little pesky things. Y’all remind me to write a post on Jess Valenzuela, will you?

favorite childhood classics

I actually rewatched a lot of movies/series from my childhood. By childhood, I mean from before I turned 12, although technically everything qualifies as childhood since I’m still a child? I guess?

Anyway, here we go…

Beakman’s World. This, y’all. This is the most underrated but AH-MAY-ZING educational children’s program ever. I will never not love Beakman, all of his fun assistants, Lester the rat, the penguins...everything. If you haven’t seen at least one episode of this zany, eclectic, and outrageous show, you are missing out on one of the 90s finest things.

(Yes, I am a 90s kid...just from the 2000s.)

Totally Spies. Another children’s show, but this one is well and thoroughly early 2000s. The clothes, the colors, the Americanized anime style...all of it is cringey perfection that I just love. I mean, how can you not love a show about teenage girls who become spies?

The Santa Clause movies. I don’t even have to explain why.

Despicable Me (1 &2). Every time I watch these, I’m surprised by how good these movies are. Like, how??? But the redemptive messages and themes of family are so precious, and I wish we could make more movies like this.

favorite rewatches

Cue a huge influx of Christmas movies…

Homeless for the Holidays. I hate and love this movie. It’s cheesy and cringey, but in the most wholesome way.

It’s a Wonderful Life. The movie that requires no introduction or explanation. It’s just plain wonderful.

Rocky (all but Rocky V, for obvious reasons). I just...I adore these movies, Rocky, Adrian, everything about this. It’s just so perfect and wonderful. (Yes, I have a secret affinity for boxing movies.) (Also yes, I am a huge Sylvester Stallone fan.)

National Treasure (1 & 2). We rewatched these in honor of the new series, and I think they get better every time? I love watching Ben and Riley’s minds work, I love the creativity (and the cliches too) of the movies, and I love the American history. (Well, in the first one. The second one, not so much. Y’all know I have opinions about the Civil War.)

How the Grinch Stole Christmas. You really can’t beat Jim Carrey as the Grinch. *sticks out tongue at Benedict Cumberbatch*

favorite cartoon

Carmen Sandiego—the new Netflix one! I’m sure there’s probably some sort of something wrong with this show (it’s made by Netflix, after all), but I didn’t notice anything wrong, and I simply adored this show. It’s fun, action-packed, unique, adventurous, educational, funny, intense—all of it. I love the characters and dynamics and the s h i p. #gramenforlife

Also, Carmen is another heroine who is perfect. Just perfect.

series that surprised me

Kickin’ It. Yes, that older Disney Channel show about kids who do karate. I’ve enjoyed Lab Rats and K.C. Undercover (a lot), but I honestly didn’t see this dumb little show being even half as good as those two. And it wouldn’t have been if it weren’t for Jack. *wags eyebrows*

The A-Team. It’s boring and repetitive, yes, but it also has some amazing characters—okay, one amazing character. Howling Mad Murdock. Also known as literal perfection. He is pure hilarity (and relatability?) and just awesomeness.

Zero Chill. This is a YA Netflix drama that was actually good and clean and had values. Hard to believe, I know, but somehow true! Plus, it has to do with ice skating, which is an automatic yes from me.

Lois & Clark (again). So, I’d wanted to watch Smallville for literally my entire life (that is no exaggeration), but after a few episodes, I was bored, and Mama had somehow gotten me hyped up for L&C, a show I’d once thought sounded cheesy and old and dinky. (And Dean Cain as Superman? Really?)

But I decided to give it a shot, and man, was it fantastic! I even think my siblings kinda sorta liked it, which is probably the biggest surprise.

films that surprised me

Journey to the Center of Earth and Journey 2: The Mysterious Island. These family-friendly adaptions of the popular Jules Verne novels may not have been entirely accurate, but they were surprisingly very good and clean!

The Mask of Zorro and The Legend of Zorro. There were a few iffy moments in the content department with these two, but for me personally, I just couldn’t not love the fast-paced action/adventure, the romance, all the swordfighting (my ultimate weakness)...all of it.

Puss in Boots. Zorro as a cute, fluffy cat. Nuff said.

The Amazing Spiderman (1 & 2). I just knew I would hate these movies. After all, Andrew Garfield is just...not Peter Parker. However, he did make an exceptional Spiderman (yes, there is a difference), and I actually kinda enjoyed these. Just...not Harry. Harry was an outrage. There was so much about the plot that needed help, but as far as, you know, Pete/Spidey goes, it was not as bad as I’d expected.

Home Alone 3. I honestly didn’t think it was possible to be 1% as good as the original Home Alone movies (I mean, if Kevin McAllister isn’t involved, I want nothing to do with it), but this one was surprisingly good!

honorable mention goes to… Here Comes to Boom Letters to Juliet Runaway Bride Snowy River: The McGregor Saga Emma (with Gwyneth Paltrow) Rescued by Ruby Mission Impossible The Giver The Parent Trap (original) The Parent Trap (remake) Freaky Friday (2003) Wild Hearts Can’t Be Broken (if anyone is interested in a fun fact about this film/true story, comment "fun fact" below!) You Again Finding You Maverix Over the Top The Tourist First Knight Oscar Sabina: The Nazi Years The Father of the Bride The Father of the Bride 2

These movies/series were all well and thoroughly enjoyed—they just didn’t fit into the above categories!

Your turn! Share which of these movies/shows you’ve seen or what your 2022 viewing favorites were! Do you have any recommendations based on my favorites? Do any of these sound good to you?

I’d love read all about it in the comments below! Here's to another year of action-packed, romantic, hilarious movies and TV shows!

yours in spirit and script, grace

#2022favorites #yearlywrapup #favorites #films #tvseries #favoritefilms #favoritetvseries #movies #tvshows #yearlyviews

welcome to 2023

So, 2022 happened. Like, it came...it went...it was experienced and enjoyed (and despised a few times)...and now it’s over. Just like that. Every month was like a chapter that was just too short, and now the novel has ended with fewer pages than I’d expected.

But the passing of one year means the dawn of another. I personally love how G.K. Chesterton put it: “The object of a New Year is not that we should have a new year. It is that we should have a new soul and a new nose; new feet, a new backbone, new ears, and new eyes.”

Each new year is a new chance, a fresh start, an unturned page, and an unlived season. Let’s embrace that and live each moment (no matter how short) to the fullest!

First, however, we’ve gotta reminisce about 2022.

what I did last year

Y’all, this was The Year™. The year I finally published Bound and Determined. Unlike the basically unfruitful past two years (2020 and 2021, both of which were pretty much spent entirely reading), I focused in 2022 on finishing BAD, getting it beta-read and edited, and publishing it a little over three years after I typed the first sentence.

And it happened. It actually happened.

On top of that, God threw me for a few loops. I ended up writing a devo a day in January, which resulted in a devotional published in April. In February, He gave me the idea to put together a Christian romance anthology, which will release this February and is now available for preorder! He even worked things out so that my friend E.K. Seaver and I could start an editing business, which has taken off quite well, all thanks to Him!

There were some things that didn’t happen—namely, I didn’t get my driver’s license like I had semi-planned to—and there were others that happened entirely according to plan, mainly me finishing my last few classes in my marketing certification course.

But even in the surprises and disappointments and mistakes and celebrations, you know what stayed constant? God. His grace. His provision. His love. His mercy. His forgiveness. Every day, I realize all over again how deep, how amazing, how beautiful, and how vital each of these things—every aspect of God—are.

As far as my personal life, the year went fairly smoothly. No lost jobs, no near-death experiences. My nana fully recovered from her heart attack, although she’s now having eye trouble. We had either The Virus or the flu (which finally came back after being banished by The Virus) back during the Fourth of July. And my brother broke his leg, which was crazy at the time but hardly memorable now, strangely. Other than that...gosh. What did happen in 2022?

(Y’all, that’s how fast it went. Or rather, how bad I am at remembering things. Let’s just go with the former, shall we?)

To sum up, in 2022 I…

Published Bound and Determined Published With Fear and Trembling Organized Tell Me You Love Me Edited at least ten books, most of which were with S&J Editors Got Instagram (whoop whoop!) Finished my small business marketing manager course Launched S&J Editors Release Sky’s the Limit Literary Journal (and then let it fall by the wayside) Conducted some (but certainly not all) research for my super secret special project Met and exceeded my wild and crazy goal of selling 1,000 books on Amazon in a year (which was due to a bunch of free promotions, but it still counts) Read about 66 books (although my goal was 100)this year’s goals

Y’all, my goals for 2023 are many. I literally have three lists of them! So let me try to dial it down to the main ones…

Publish Tell Me You Love Me Write Something Bright and Beautiful (the sequel to Daylight) Write and publish a Daughters of the Seven Seas Christmas short story Write at least five short stories Write a new devotional Start an Etsy shop and/or launch a web design business Grow my blog, Instagram, newsletter, etc. Consistently sell at least 10 books a month (hopefully more) Start making passive income/a steady income Relaunch Sky’s the Limit Press Grow S&J Editors Actually get my license for real this time And last but not least...begin plotting/outlining the second edition of Held Captive (aka, The Rewrite™)

Do I guarantee I’ll do any of those things? Not at all. But will I try with all my might?

You better believe it.

It’s your turn now! What are your goals for 2023? What did you accomplish in 2022? How do you ring in the new year? What are you most excited for in this new year? Share all you’d like in the comments below!

scripture of the year

Last year, I debuted a new yearly tradition: Scripture of the Year. Everyone else picks words. Or, rather, a word. How boring. Why not pick an entire paragraph of God-breathed scripture?

So I did. In part to be different, in another part because I couldn’t think of a single word, but mainly because Psalm 91 was so heavy on my heart at the time.

Well, 2023’s scripture came to be in the most unlikely of ways...not from soul-searching and Bible-studying and praying (although that’s not to say I didn’t do those things). This year, all it took was a song.

It goes a little something like this…

How long ‘til the world will be completed?

How many times will history repeat it?

How long will it take, how long, how long?

I want to go, will you show me the way?

How long, how long, how long will it take?

How long?

How long, how long?

I want to go, will you show me the way?

How long, how long, how long will it take?

How long ‘til the world could be completed?

How many times will history repeat it?

How long ‘til the words fall to the pages?

How many times ‘til all we can say is save us?

Does that not sounds familiar? Perhaps like something you’ve thought or prayed? Perhaps something like...

“How long, O Lord? Will you forget me forever?

How long will you hide your face from me? How long must I take counsel in my soul and have sorrow in my heart all the day? How long shall my enemy be exalted over me?

“Consider and answer me, O Lord my God; light up my eyes, lest I sleep the sleep of death,

lest my enemy say, ‘I have prevailed over him,’ lest my foes rejoice because I am shaken.

“But I have trusted in your steadfast love; my heart shall rejoice in your salvation.

I will sing to the Lord, because he has dealt bountifully with me.”

Psalm 13. The one Psalm (of many, really) that always echoes the cry of my soul. The Psalm I think we’ve all been praying. We’ve all been asking “How long?” “How much longer?” “How many times?” “How long will it take?”

We’ve all been waiting. And that’s what I feel like 2023 will be. A season of waiting. And maybe, for some things and some people, only a season. Maybe 2023 will also be the year their waiting ends and they receive what they’ve been waiting for. But for others, in other areas, it may be the beginning of the waiting, the middle of the waiting, the waiting that takes the most strength.

That’s it right there. So often, we think of waiting as grueling and hard, as needing strength to endure. When do you think of waiting as giving and building strength?

“[B]ut they who wait for the Lord shall renew their strength; they shall mount up with wings like eagles; they shall run and not be weary; they shall walk and not faint.”

Isaiah 40:31

You may be asking “How long?” You may be waiting in 2023. But waiting doesn’t mean lacking. It means receiving God’s grace, His peace, and His provision as you prepare for the next step. It means gaining strength and endurance to run the next leg of the race. It means learning and growing just for “for the next,” but for the now.

Waiting means trusting, rejoicing, singing. It means abiding in and resting in the steadfast love, salvation, and presence of God.

“From of old no one has heard or perceived by the ear,

no eye has seen a God besides you, who acts for those who wait for him.”

Isaiah 64:4

May you experience the peace of God in your waiting. May you understand the steadfast, never-ending love of God. May you taste the goodness of God. May you be strengthened, encouraged, uplifted, and rooted during this season, whatever it may look like. May you remember to call upon the name of the Lord with your questions and your praises, and to trust in Him and His timing above all.

“I wait for the Lord, my soul waits, and in his word I hope; my soul waits for the Lord

more than watchmen for the morning, more than watchmen for the morning.”

Psalm 130:5-6

Lord, bless us all this year and every year after. May we trust in You as we await Your redemption of our broken world. May we find strength in Your presence as we await Your answers to all our questions. May we rest in Your love and Your grace as we await the next season of our lives. And further, may we come to understand that no matter what our lives may look like at the time, every day, we are living out our calling and our purpose on this earth, and every second is a new opportunity to grow closer to You and to be who You have called us to be. For that, we never have to wait.

“The Lord is good to those who wait for him, to the soul who seeks him.”

Lamentations 3:25

“ Wait for the Lord; be strong, and let your heart take courage; wait for the Lord!”

Psalm 27:14

yours in spirit and script, grace

#welcometo2023 #lifeupdate #yearlyupdates #wrapup #goals #updates #news #waiting #scriptureoftheyear #happynewyear #newyear

christmas favorites tag

Hello, hello, hello, everyone! *rubs her hands together before snagging a mug of hot chocolate* I hope everyone had a very merry Christmas this year! (And please tell me y'all had snow. I wanted snow so badly this year, and all we got was cold. Plain ol' boring dry cold. So I hope y'all got to enjoy a white Christmas!)

Christmas may be over, but the fun is just beginning over here! Sisters Three put together a Christmas-themed blog tag and tagged me right before Christmas, so I finally have a chance to share with y'all my Christmas favorites!

the rules Use the Christmas Favorites Tag banner Link back to www.sisters-three.com Thank the person who nominated you and link back to their post (Thanks so much, Sisters Three!) Tag eight fellow bloggers And have lots of fun!!!the questions

Favorite Christmas Memory?

Um. This shouldn’t be so tough, but it really is. Now, had you asked least favorite Christmas memory, I could manage. (*coughs* Christmas isn’t always the easiest time of year for us, despite how much we love it.)

Really, I think my favorite memory is just a jumble of feelings and a few memories from when I was really little (like 3-5 years old kinda little). Before my dad’s parents stopped celebrating Christmas (for a myriad of reasons upon which I will expound if y’all are curious), before we were sick almost every December, before my mom’s brothers and their families turned our routines upside down, before my nana had a heart attack last year…

Back when everything was warm and exciting and carefree and bright and cheerful. When everything was simple, because I was a simple child. My grandy would have this fun fake snow we could play with (because #south), and her house would always be decked out (especially the halls *winks*), and she would always have such fun treats. And it would always be late and dark and cozy at my nana’s on Christmas Eve. *sighs* Good times.

Favorite Christmas Treat?

EGGNOG. (You never saw that coming, did you?) And fruitcake (yes, really. I even wrote a book about it). And turkey and dressing and e v e r y t h i n g.

Favorite Christmas Tradition?

Gosh. Traditions are spotty these days (due to the reasons listed above), but some of the semi-traditional traditions I love are (1) picking out new ornaments every year, (2) looking at Christmas lights, (3) decorating the house on October 31st (we are r e b e l s), and (4) making gingerbread houses (or, as we did this year, ugly sweater cookies)!

Favorite Christmas Song?

This question is unfair. Do not whatsoever make me pick a favorite!!! I love them all!!! But, just to highlight a few…

“Carol of the Bells,” “The Christmas Waltz,” “Christmas in Killarney,” “I’ll Be Home For Christmas,” “Silent Night,” and “The Christmas Song” are just a few of my many favorites!

Tell us your favorite funny Christmas story…

Okay, this is hard...*sifts through those childhood memories* Eh, I can’t really think of anything that would be genuinely funny to y’all, but what a l w a y s cracks me up is this video (or was it two videos?) of me and my cousin waaayyyyy back when we were three years old. I’d share it here just for the heck of it, but I doubt I could find it and send it to my computer. So just close your eyes and imagine for a moment…

My cousin Caleb was chattering with our uncle about the presents, and he was just SO cute and hilarious (don’t tell him I said that *chortles*) explaining to him how we have to wait to open them and whatnot. And then I, show-off that I was, recited the Pledge of Allegiance...only to end it with my trademark “With liberty and justice for the goose.”

Don’t ask. I don’t know where in the world that came from, but from age three to age five or six, that’s what I said. “For the goose.”

Favorite Christmas Movie?

This is a no-brainer: “It’s A Wonderful Life.” We watch it every year, so in a way it gets old...but in another way, I still tear up every time and just get so invested in this precious film. I love it.

And I have a strange fondness for the. cheesiest. non-romantic. Christmas. movie. in. history.

“Homeless for the Holidays.”

This low-budget Christian Christmas movie came out in 2009, I believe, and follows the journey of a man from #1 on the corporate ladder to homeless for Christmas. It’s so cringe, but it’s also has such a beautiful message, and it took on a new meaning for me when my dad lost his job during Covid. We were never close to losing our house (we actually paid it off during that time) or anything, but it was still a different experience. No insurance, no steady source of income, plenty of Covid unemployment bonuses (thank God) but just as much uncertainty as well. But God provides, just as He did in the movie!

And we mustn’t forget the classic “The Santa Clauses” film series that I will always adore, and “Christmas with the Kranks,” which is just so much fun!

Plans for Christmas this year? (Yeah, not a favorite but still fun!)

Well, Christmas is over, so I guess I’ll be explaining what exactly we did rather than what we planned to do...but whatever.

On December 23rd, we (meaning my family and my uncles and their families) went to my nana’s for lunch and gift exchanging...which, y’all...was such a gift. Such a blessing. I take it for granted every year and get my panties in a wad if we don’t do everything “just so” (I am high maintenance, folks, and routine is my lifeblood), but whether we celebrate on Christmas Eve, December 28th, or December 1st, or in the middle of July...it doesn’t matter as long as my family—every single member of it—is there. Last year was by far the worst Christmas—worse than the first Christmas without celebrating with Dad’s parents, worse than the Christmas with the flu, worse than all the Christmases that weren’t “just so”—because my nana was in the hospital miles away, having narrowly escaped dying on Christmas Eve, along with my papa. She insisted (because she is nothing if not stubborn) that we celebrate without her and eat, open presents, etc., but we did so with heavy hearts.

This year, everyone was there, and I cannot put into words what that means to me.

Anyway, let’s move on before I start crying again…

On Christmas Eve, my siblings and I exchanged presents, my dad and papa went through the hassle of fixing our frozen pipes (because it’s actually cold on Christmas for once...but no snow, unfortunately), and we watched “The Nativity Story” as we do every year.

And lastly, on Christmas Day, we got up bright and early (make that dark and early, because I was up at 3am and couldn't go back to sleep, so everyone got up at 4:15am) to open presents from our parents. Then we attended church, where my mother played the piano during the worship service and I read the Christmas story (which was SUCH an honor)! And then we went home, prepared food, and went back to my nana's to eat dinner with our extended family on my papa's side.

And naturally I came home and went to bed before 8pm. I was exhausted.

I’m actually not going to tag anyone for this since Christmas is over, and y’all may not be interested in doing this tag now, BUT if you do, PLEASE feel free to steal this tag! (Just link back to me if you do!) I'd love to hear all about your Christmas favorites and what you did to celebrate this year!

Before I sign off, may I ask a quick favor? If you have a minute, I would love for you to take this short (or, well, it can be short if you only answer a few questions) survey and share your thoughts and opinions on my website, my blog, my writing, etc.! Thank y'all SO much!!! I am so excited to begin another year with y'all!

Y'all have a very happy New Year, my lovelies! I'll see you in 2023!

yours in spirit and script, Grace

#tag #christmas #blogtag #survey #blogsurvey #readersurvey #followersurvey

peace on earth

And in despair I bowed my head;

“There is no peace on earth,” I said;

“For hate is strong,

And mocks the song

Of peace on earth, good-will to men!”

“Christmas Bells” by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

let me tell you about peace

she said, as her voice wavered

let me tell you about the day

peace should have evaded me

the day my heart nearly stopped

and my lifeblood slowed

and despair should have reigned

let me tell you about peace

the peace I had when I had nothing else

the peace that overcame the deafening clamor

the aching pain and stinging tears

the peace that I could not fathom

but that I reveled in

as it washed over me

let me tell you about peace

that continues to sing

and rings throughout all the earth

when the enemy seeks to wreak havoc

and chaos and strife

a peace that cannot be stolen

or defeated by fear and anxiety

let me tell you about peace

it comes from above

as every good and perfect gift does

it covers and protects

it fights for and defends

the tender depths of your heart and mind

from the darts of the evil one

let me tell you about peace

one you can possess

the moment you lay your heart to rest

as the throne of peace’s Prince

the moment He takes you by the hand

and leads you into His precious presence

the very spirit of peace

I could have celebrated Christmas without my grandmother this year. My mother and her brothers could have been without their mom. All because of one totally unexpected moment, when my nana had a heart attack on Christmas Eve last year. Something so common that it happens about 805,000 times a year, that some people experience it two or three times in their life. And yet something so dangerous, so fatal, so strong, so merciless...that it could have easily stolen her life and, in the process, forever changed our lives and the entire tri-county area (and that is no exaggeration).

But even through a heart attack, through a painful and shocking brush with death, through a helicopter flight out of state, through watching her children and grandchildren sob in the hospital parking lot…

Nana had peace.

“Let me tell you about peace,” she said on December 23rd, 2022—a day she might not have made it to. A day the devil wanted to keep her from.

“Let me tell you about peace. The peace I had, knowing that if I died that day, I would be with the Lord...and if I survived, I would live many more days doing what He called me to do.”

Y’all, we live in a world where peace in almost nonexistent, so much so that most people can’t even begin to comprehend it or accept it because it seems so fallen. Even almost 200 years ago, Longfellow felt it, this incredulity over the very idea of there being such as thing as “peace on earth, goodwill to men” in a world that was nothing but chaos, war, hate, death, and despair. This man, who once wrote love poems to the night and wove stories of romance and light, driven to his knees in despair.

And yet it’s in this sense of despair that peace most thrives. It comes in like a shelter, a light, a gentle hand, a covering. It’s the only stable thing in the midst of angry roiling waves and sea billows of sorrows. It’s the only thing we can hold on to when the storm tosses our life to and fro.

It’s the knowledge that, no matter what, God is there. He is constant. He is strong. He is sovereign. He is loving and kind and just and holy and light. He is our beginning and our end and our tumultuous middle.

I think of Mary, who could have been stoned for being pregnant before knowing her husband. She should have been frightened and angry and anxious—but no. God was with her. God had given her His child, and God would see that both of them would be delivered. What a wondrous peace, knowing that God would sustain and provide and protect. Knowing that everything began and ended with God. Knowing that His will would be done, and that He was sovereign and worthy of trust.

I pray you have this peace. I pray that, no matter what you face, you will look it straight in the eyes and say, “God is the beginning and the end. God is my strength, my fortress, and my deliverer. God is with me wherever I go, and because of that, I have peace.”

May you be able to say to your children, your grandchildren, and your great-grandchildren, “Let me tell you about peace.”

Merry Christmas to you all, and unto you up to the tenth generation, peace and goodwill.

“There is always calm in Christ.

No matter where it is that you go or what it is that you do.

He will be glorified. He will watch over you.

His will shall be done. In Him, there is peace.”

Bound and Determined by Grace A. Johnson

Then pealed the bells more loud and deep:

“God is not dead, nor doth He sleep;

The Wrong shall fail,

The Right prevail,

With peace on earth, good-will to men.”

“Christmas Bells” by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

yours in spirit and script, Grace

#peace #christmas #god #jesus #peaceonearth #poetry #christianity

cover reveal: where faith remains by joy c. woodbury

I am so excited to introduce y'all to my good friend Joy C. Woodbury's upcoming debut novel, Where Faith Remains! And I'm even more excited to reveal this historical family drama's beautiful cover!!!

I'mma be good to y'all and not make you scroll...just sit back, relax, and enjoy reading the blurb while taking in the cover!

about the book & the cover

1968: Though severely depressed and haunted by the demons that attack him day and night, amputee Russell Campbell has the will to live for one little girl who needs him: Eliza, the orphaned baby of a fallen comrade. When he adopts Eliza as his daughter, a miracle happens—he experiences the love he never thought possible. Through little Eliza, the only person to ever love him unconditionally, the Lord begins to heal his heart, although the demons don’t go away.

1975: Seven-year-old Eliza Campbell has everything, because to her, her adoptive father is everything. She loves him more than anything in the world—the man whose tender heart and gentle hand guide her in Christ. Eliza knows she and her papa don’t belong anywhere, except with each other. Others think they make an odd pair—a little black girl and a white Vietnam War veteran with battle scars both seen and unseen.

Russell has always taught Eliza that Jesus brings healing, but then tragedy strikes. Eliza’s earth is shattered, for her worst fear may just come true: a scary diagnosis might tear her father away from her forever. Why would Jesus let this happen, if He really loves and cares for them as Russell says He does? Is He really to be trusted? Or is it possible that the darkness can be a place where faith remains?

With themes of trauma and healing, forgiveness and redemption, light overcoming the darkness, and racial equality, Where Faith Remains is a tender and deeply moving adoptive love story. It’s the first novel in Russell & Eliza, Joy C. Woodbury’s Christian family saga about the legacy of their love.

about the author

Joy C. Woodbury is a teenage Seventh-day Adventist Christian and scribe of historical fiction and biblical fiction. She loves Jesus, St. Paul, the family of Christ, theology, and tiramisu. Her passion is bringing hope and light into the world through fictional tales, and her stories feature ordinary people with extraordinary faith in God. She can often be found daydreaming, overanalyzing books and movies, and jamming to contemporary worship music. You can connect with her at her website, ,discipleshipwithjoy.com.

Don't you just love it? *heart eyes* Lemme know what you think down below, and make sure you check out Joy's blog (link above) and add the book on Goodreads to stay up-to-date on its release!

Merry Christmas, y'all! I think this will be the last time y'all hear from me until some time after Christmas! I pray y'all have a blessed holiday and enjoy your time with food - I mean, family! *winks*

yours in spirit and script, Grace

#coverreveal #youngauthor #comingsoon #upcomingrelease #christianfiction #historicalfiction #debutnovel

become a patron

So, I don't talk about this a lot, although technically I should, so if you don't know what in the heck I'm talking about because I don't talk about it...I'mma talk about it.

(Okay, wow. So that's what my brain looks like today...*coughs*)

Allow me to introduce Patreon. If you haven't heard of it, it's this thing (website/platform) where peeps can pledge a certain amount of money (usually set by the creator in the form of tiers) to support their favorite creators (authors, artists, designers, musicians, literally anybody who makes/produces something) on a monthly basis. It's usually just a few dollars a month, depending on the tier, and each tier includes certain rewards/perks...

In my case, if you pledge just $3 a month on my lowest-ranking tier, you, my friend, can gain access to a wealth of short stories (most of which are ✨exclusive✨, which means only my patrons can/have read them), FREE digital copies of any/all of my books, and a place aboard me pirate ship as a member o' me crew! (Aka, you get to be part of a Slack workspace with the other patrons, where we can chat and chill and do legal piratey things.)

And your pledges go toward book merch, book covers, and absolutely no overpriced lattes! How cool is that, am I right?

If that hasn't piqued your interest, that's fine. I have so much more I want to share anyway!

Like one of my exclusive short stories!

This was a recent write for me (by recent, I mean this year), and it was inspired by a song I had on repeat all this spring! (Suffice to say that one song spiraled into a whole playlist...which only has eight songs, but whatever.) It's called "Savannah" after the main song "Savannah," and my setting for this story!

It's short, it's sweet, it's tender...and it's available ONLY for my patrons!!!

I also have several other short stories, some flash fiction, etc., available for my patrons, as well as a historical fantasy pirate serial!!!

Which I haven't updated recently, because life, but I do have more parts coming soon! You will have plenty of time to catch up, though, so it works.

Before I leave y'all to your Christmas festivities, I'd like to know...what would you like to see on my Patreon? I have so many ideas, but I want to do what my readers and supporters are interested in - not just what I'm interested in! So let me know down below what fun perks are on your mind!

And, of course, make sure you check out my page by clicking the button below!

Now, from my warm, toasty bedroom in surprisingly frosty South Georgia (we actually have a five percent chance of snow this week??? like, what???), I wish you all white Christmases and happy holidays!!!

yours in spirit and script (and snow? maybe?), Grace

#patreon #exclusive #shortstories

coming soon: yesterday's tides by roseanna m. white

Y'all, Roseanna M. White is writing a dual-time novel and I AM HERE FOR IT. Who cares that I hate dual-time/split-time novels 90% of the time. This a White novel we're talking about.

Not only that, but Roseanna's upcoming release, Yesterday's Tides, includes a character from The Codebreakers series (Remington Culbreth, if you're curious, who I am already in love with) AND is split between two historical timelines - which is such a refresher from all the historical/contemporary split-time stories!

If that hasn't piqued your interest, allow me to share the very intriguing blurb with you!

about the book

In 1942, Evie Farrow is used to life on Ocracoke Island, where every day is the same–until the German U-boats haunting their waters begin to wreak havoc. And when special agent Sterling Bertrand is washed ashore at Evie’s inn, her life is turned upside down. While Sterling’s injuries keep him inn-bound for weeks, making him even more anxious about the man he’s tracking, he becomes increasingly intrigued by Evie, who seems to be hiding secrets of her own. Decades earlier, in 1914, Englishman Remington Culbreth arrives at the Ocracoke Inn for the summer, but he doesn’t count on falling in love with Louisa Adair, the innkeeper’s daughter. When war breaks out in Europe, and their relationship is put in jeopardy, will their love survive? As Evie and Sterling work to track down an elusive German agent, they unravel mysteries that go back a generation. The ripples from the Great War are still rocking their lives, and it seems yesterday’s tides may sweep them all into danger again today. Bestselling and award-winning author Roseanna M. White whisks you away to two periods fraught with peril in this sweeping and romantic dual-time tale.

Y'ALL. It's a WWI novel and a WWII novel in ONE BOOK, and one dude is named Remington and the other is Sterling. *melts*

(Those are two of my all-time favorite names, if you haven't guessed that yet.)

Also, have you seen that cover? *all the heart eyes* I absolutely cannot wait to hold this beauty in my hands, and I certainly can't wait to read it!

Fortunately, we don't have to, because Sunday started the daily sneak peeks! If you sign up through the button below, you can receive a sneak peek every day until release day of Yesterday's Tides (and catch up on sneak peeks you missed)!

As if that wasn't enough, Yesterday's Tides is now available for preorder, so if you're interested in a SIGNED and DISCOUNTED paperback copy, now's your chance to order one before the book officially releases! (Pst: My IndieBound links are all affiliate links, so if you make a purchase through the link, I will receive a small commission at no extra cost to you!)

Not interested in paying for something just now? Then do I have a treat for you! From today until January 19th, 2023, you have a chance to win a copy of YT on Goodreads! You can learn more and enter below!

So, whaddya say? Are you up for a suspenseful and romantic maritime adventure? Let me know down below what aspect of Yesterday's Tides is the most interesting to you, and what new 2023 releases you're most looking forward to!

Happy sneak-peeking and merry Christmas, loves!

yours in spirit and script, Grace

#comingsoon #upcomingrelease #sneakpeek #yesterydaystides #roseannamwhite #historicalromance #historicalfiction #WWI #WWII #christianfiction #romance #dualtime #splittime #favoriteauthor #preordernow #preorder #giveaway #entertowin #goodreads

featured story: not unrequited love by hannah foster

I just adore this sweet romance! Not only does it include one of my favorite tropes (governess x father romance), it's also full of hope! I hope y'all enjoy Not Unrequited Love by Hannah Foster as much as I did!

Allison Walker leaned her head back against the interior of the train trying to regain composure. She slouched down just outside of the compartment where she was supposed to be watching four rambunctious children but from whom a moment ago she had fled. She took a few slow breaths trying to steady her worn nerves. She had been governess for wealthy Mr. Glenwood’s four children for three years now, but never had she felt so exhausted and frazzled as she did now.

Rubbing her pounding head, her gaze drifted out the window to the speedily passing trees and landscape. She closed her eyes when she found looking out the window only made her more dizzy. Four children all under eleven-years-old weren’t too hard to manage or care for at home, but going on vacation with the family became a whole new story. But that wasn’t the real problem…

The train jolted to the left and she clutched at her stomach, then at her head. She didn’t know which one was worse at the moment, a nauseous stomach or a pounding headache. Both were the products of a rolling train. She hadn’t known trains made her sick until now. But that wasn’t the real problem either.

All of these troubles, in fact, seemed quite mild compared to the actual problem.

The real trouble is that she had fallen in love.

She was never supposed to have fallen in love. But most especially not with the sorrowful, sober Mr. Glenwood. When she had taken the position of governess, she took it knowing it would be near impossible to fall in love with the father of the children. And that was how she wanted it. If she worked for a serious sort of man who was impossible to fall in love with she would not have to worry about her heart being broken twice. Once had been quite enough. Her plan had almost been successful too. For almost three years. Almost.

Running a hand through her straight blonde hair, Allison inwardly groaned. She tried to remember when and where the change first took place, but she couldn’t put her finger on any one instant. It could have been the time Mr. Glenwood had defended her against an angry, hungry goose determined to snatch her lunch from her. But that hadn’t been very romantic though it was gentlemanly of him. Or it could have been the time he carried her back to the house after she sprained her ankle, falling from a horse. That had been more romantic, but she had been in too much pain to think about her feelings. Maybe it was when he taught her how to shoot a rifle. Or after she killed her first wild animal then burst into tears. He had comforted her with his strong arms wrapped around her shaking shoulders, and that had been more romantic. But she didn’t think it was any of those moments. Not specifically anyway.

Maybe it was simply one big mistake to join the family on their vacation in the first place. But she knew it wasn’t even that. Something had already changed before then. Maybe it was the kind of love that just slowly creeps into your heart, and you don’t even realize it’s there till it’s too late. And too late it was.

A compartment door opened and closed, and Allison hoped it wasn’t hers. She wasn’t ready to go back yet.

A hand gently rested on her shoulder and Allison swallowed back a moan. She didn’t need to look to know it was Mr. Glenwood.

“I had hoped this would be a vacation for you just as much as it was for us, but I fear you’ve worked too hard again.” His voice was deep and kind, and a little too concerned.

“Oh, no, Mr. Glenwood.” Allison shook her head emphatically to add emphasis. “It’s not that at all I assure you.”

He removed his hand a second later, but squatted down beside her. “What is it then? The children? They’re all asleep now.”

Two slow breaths filled her lungs. “My head. It’s been pounding so fiercely ever since we got on the train.” It wasn’t the real reason she’d had to bolt, but it was certainly part of the reason.

A smile flickered across his face, and Allison realized she had been seeing that fleeting smile a lot lately. Why had she not noticed it sooner? That would have been a good indication it was time to find a new post. Before her heart could be broken for the second time.

He studied her for a moment. “Trains make you sick, huh?”

Allison nodded. “I guess so.”

He didn’t say anything for several seconds, but his piercing gaze was too penetrating for comfort.

“Is that all?” He asked judiciously.

She responded with a shake of her head. “Not quite.”

Allison held her breath, hoping he would ask no more questions.

His gaze drifted out the window, and she noticed that the quickly passing scenery didn’t bother him the way it had her. “The children are quiet now, and I think you’ll find the compartment a little more comfortable than out here in the passageway if you want to come back.”

If only he knew how comforting she actually found this solitary passageway. Relinquishing her own feelings, she nodded and followed him back to the children, taking a seat once more. All four children were sitting on one bench, their heads resting on each other as they slept peacefully. Mr. Glenwood and herself sat on the other side, quiet, erect, and alert, busy with their own thoughts.

Leaning her head back, she closed her eyes in hopes that sleep would claim her restless brain. Her head wobbled to one side, but that wasn’t very comfortable so she tried the other. Finding that to be no better, she tried leaning her head straight back. Still it was awkward enough to keep her from dozing off.

Slowly opening her eyes again, she found Mr. Glenwood looking at her with an amused smile on his face.

She didn’t find the situation very amusing herself, and closed her eyes again.

Mr. Glenwoods’s voice suddenly broke into the steady clinking of the train. “You can rest your head on my shoulder…if you want.” It was said so quietly, she almost missed it altogether.

Her lids flew open, and she stared briefly at him.

“You're exhausted and don’t feel good. I know it’s not quite what they call proper, but if it would help you sleep, I don’t mind, and the rest of the world doesn’t have a say in the matter.” He ended there and shrugged nonchalantly as if it wouldn’t affect him one way or the other.

Allison glanced at the children who were all sound asleep. If she had a place to rest her head, she could sleep too. It sounded perfectly delightful and inviting. She seriously considered agreeing when she remembered her biggest problem. Sleeping on his shoulder would definitely not make that problem go away.

She set her lips with determination. “I’ll be fine.” No one would catch her sleeping on her boss's shoulder. No one would catch her falling in love either.

Closing her eyes once more, she shifted into the most comfortable position possible and waited hopelessly for sleep to overtake her.

~

Allison slowly awoke with a fuzzy brain, but thankfully a less pounding headache. She frowned, feeling something both soft and solid underneath her head. Opening her groggy eyes, she lifted her head, and looked around only to find herself gazing right back at Mr. Glenwood, a disconcerting look on his face.

“I wasn’t sleeping on you, was I?” she asked, horror stealing into her quivering voice.

He turned his gaze away, but responded just as quietly. “Would that really be so bad?” There was an unnerving amount of intensity in his voice and words.

Allison swallowed the lump in her throat. It was too obvious she had slept on his shoulder, and he had no idea just how awful it was.

She sat rigidly upright, her eyes directly focused in front of her on the children still sound asleep, except for the oldest. Pressing her lips together in a thin line, she waited for the floor to open and swallow her. She could not have feelings for her boss. She couldn’t. She had learned her lesson from her last mistake, and told herself she would never do it again.

A stifled squeak escaped her lips, and suddenly Allison bolted from her seat and out of the compartment as quickly as her feet would carry her. Out in the passageway, she sank once more to the floor where only the sound of the rumbling train kept her company. She meant to stay there alone, but it wasn’t to be.

A gentle hand rested on her bowed shoulders a moment later. “Allison?”

She couldn’t get her voice to speak, so she sat there mutely, her head ducked down in her hands where any blushing cheeks would be hidden.

“Allison, are you really so sick or is it something else?” Concern etched into his voice, and for the first time she noticed his addressing her by her first name.

Oh, if only he knew just how sick, and what kind of sick she was. He wouldn’t be standing over her worried. He would be sending her on her way. Well, if he hadn’t figured it out yet, she wouldn’t wait around for him to. She would start looking for a new post, and put in her notice as soon as they got back.

“Is there anything I can do to help you feel better?” His voice was so sweet and so tender it almost made her cry right there on the floor. Why couldn’t he be that stern fellow she first met?

Her breath hitched in her throat as his arm stole around her shoulders. Though her brain screamed for her to resist she found herself resting against him instead. In the most comforting and heart-rending way.

“There is nothing…nothing you can do. Just leave me.” The words escaped her lips in a most unconvincing manner as her heart continued to roll and twist with unwelcomed feelings.

I can’t love him, her head screamed. I know what happens when I fall in love. My heart gets broken because he won’t love me back. I’m just his employee. Just an orphan girl with no connection. Oh, I cannot love him. I can’t.

“I love you too much to leave you,” a deep soothing voice replied.

Allison suddenly jerked her head up. His words had softly, slowly drifted through the clanging noise in her head. She attempted to silence the turmoil of her heart, as her eyes searched his.

“What did you say?” she asked with a timid urgency in her voice.

His hand rose to her face, and cradled her chin in his palm. “I said I love you too much to leave you.” He paused as if letting the truth sink into her weary soul. “Whatever you're going through, won’t you let me in. We’ve let you into our home and hearts, yet I don’t think you’ve quite let us into yours.”

~

Edward Glenwood stared at the blonde beauty beside him. How had she so quietly snuck her way into his heart? He had been so determined to not love again. His deceased wife would be the only woman he ever cared about. But that was before he met Allison. Kind, quiet Allison who gave up her life to love and devotedly serve his children each day.

He could never quite figure out her background. Only that she had been a governess at another post and left on good terms. That was all he really knew. But something in her pale green eyes told of a deeper, sadder story. Maybe love unrequited?

But that idea had not been enough to stop him from confessing how he really felt about her.

He waited for a response, his own heart pulsing irregularly. Waiting to know if he had made a fool of himself for speaking as she stared at him, a startled appearance in her gaze.

“What do you mean?” she asked softly, almost hopefully but rather more doubtfully. “What kind of love?”

Edward creased his brow. “What kind of love? Why, the kind that wants to marry you. What other kind would I be speaking of?” This was not the place or time he had ever planned on admitting it, but it had slipped out, and he must go all the way.

A laugh that almost sounded like a cry, broke from her lips and Edward wondered if she was going crazy.

“Platonic love maybe. That’s the only kind anyone ever had for me,” and another unsettling laugh cracked, then her face suddenly became very sober again. Almost pleadingly, she said, “You really mean it?”

Edward never said anything he didn’t mean and especially not on the topic of love and marriage. But for some reason there was true doubt in her eyes, and he had to convince her he really did mean it.

“I could not possibly be any more serious.” He pulled her a little closer, his brown eyes roaming her face. “Will it take a kiss to persuade you, my dear?”

A slow smile lit up her eyes. “I think it might.”

Leaning closer, Edward sealed the promise, his lips on hers. For her to remember forever and ever that he did not joke about love.

“Daddy, are you going to marry Miss Allison?”

Edward pulled back and winked at his four-year-old daughter, Annie May, who was peeking out at them with wide eyes. “If she’ll let me, I’ll marry her as soon as we get back.” His gaze returned to Allison questioningly, since she had not actually given him a vocal answer yet. Though he thought the kiss may be answer enough.

“Like today as soon as we get back?” Allison arched her brows, a smile playing on her lips.

He inclined his head thoughtfully. “Well, let’s say two days from now. That will give us some time to get things in order.”

Allison nodded soberly. “I think I can do that.”

“There’s nothing, or no one to stop you?” It was his turn to doubt for just a moment.

“Nothing,” she answered fervently.

He would have kissed her again, but in time remembered he had a four-year-old daughter watching and thought better of it. Rising to his feet, he held his hand out to Allison and pulled her up with him.

“What do you think, Annie May, of Miss Allison being your new mother?”

The little girl squealed in reply, and flung her arms out to Allison. Allison laughed and picked the girl up in her arms, hugging her tight.

“And I will be just as delighted to be your mother.”

Edward wrapped an arm around both and smiled down at them. “I think in many ways you’ve already been their mother, but I’m glad we can make it official.”

Then the news had to be broken to the rest of the children, and there was no more quiet. But at least Edward could put his arm around Allison while they discussed the upcoming changes. She didn’t resist this time, but let her head find a resting place against him. And he found that he liked it there very much.

~

Allison soaked up this moment to savor for a very long time. Even the chatter of the children didn’t bother her as it had earlier. Her headache had somehow miraculously disappeared. Nausea no longer twisted her gut. Her head was no longer trying to convince her heart not to fall in love. And she found resting in his love to be a very peaceful and pleasant place to be. It was a very beautiful thing to be loved back when all she had ever known was unrequited love.

about the author

Hannah Foster was born and raised in North Carolina where she was homeschooled with her eight siblings. She attended college in Minnesota where she got her bachelor’s degree in literature, learned to survive temperatures of below zero, and became Mrs. Foster. From a young age, Hannah has loved reading. Throughout her teen years, she also enjoyed journaling and blogging, but it wasn’t till her mid-twenties that she discovered her love for penning her own stories. Hannah’s desire is that the words she writes would bring hope and light in a dark world. Besides reading and writing, she also enjoys baking, watercolor painting, tennis, and all things vintage.

Connect with her at hannahfosterwrites.wordpress.com!

Wasn't that just lovely?! *melts* I absolutely loved this story and Hannah's other short stories, which y'all can check out HERE!

Have you ever experienced unrequited love? Are you a sucker for father x governess romances too? Let me know in the comments!

yours in spirit and script, Grace

#featuredstory #shortstory #romance #christianfiction

featured story: ode to ellie by m.c. kennedy

Y'all, this story is too sad and yet sweet, too touching not to share! I hope y'all enjoy Ode to Ellie by M.C. Kennedy!

Mrs. Henry’s finger was shaking up and down like a sideways metronome, her face red and

her eyes sparking as she hissed, “You have sinned. Your daughter’s death would have been proof enough, but Ruthie’s deafness only confirms it. You ought to be falling on your knees in

repentance, Matthew Keaton, begging for God’s mercy on your life. How long will you continue

to live in your sin?”

For the first time, Matthew was glad his wife couldn’t hear anything. His lanky frame towered over Mrs. Henry as the muscles in his jaw twitched. “I appreciate your concern, Mrs. Henry,” he said, keeping his tone even only with an effort. “Now I must ask you to leave.” He strode across the floor and tugged open the door. The crisp autumn air pushed into the room, though it did little to dispel the tension permeating the very walls.

Mrs. Henry spluttered, her cheeks turning from red to purple. She marched toward the door

and rose as tall as she could to speak directly into Matthew’s face. “I am innocent of your

blood,” she spat. “It is on your own head now.” She sailed across the threshold, the house

shaking as she slammed the door behind her.

Matthew’s shoulders slumped, and he leaned his arm against the doorframe, drawing in a

shaky breath. “Oh God,” he sighed. “Dear God.”

The house was silent as he turned back around to face the small sitting room. Two wooden

rocking chairs, a small table, and an old upright piano comprised the furniture. Mrs. Henry had

just vacated the chair on the right. Ruthie occupied the other one, her eyes fixed on the

newspaper clipping lying on the table, her hands clasped tightly in her lap.

“She’s just a mean old lady,” Matthew said, moving back into the sitting room and dropping into the empty chair. “That’s all. She doesn’t really know what she’s talking about.”

Ruthie said nothing. The only thing indicating she was still alive, aside from the stiffness of

her back, was the steady rising and falling of her chest as she breathed. Everything else, from the paleness of her skin to the blankness of her eyes, spoke of death.

Matthew pinched the bridge of his nose, squeezing his eyes shut. “You ought to be falling on your knees in repentance, Matthew Keaton!” Mrs. Henry’s accusation rang in his mind, and he

splayed his hands over his face. “How long will you continue to live in your sin?”

But he had repented. They both had—though the way he saw it, he was the only one to blame.

The golden band encircling Ruthie’s left ring finger proved to the world that he’d done the

honorable thing and married her.

Apparently, though, it wasn’t enough for God. 

Matthew picked up the newspaper clipping from the table. Mrs. Henry had brought it with

her, shoving it at him as soon as he opened the door to her, insisting that this was the reason for

the tragedy that had fallen upon his family. The square of paper was from several months ago

and featured the town’s weekly marriage announcements. His and Ruthie’s names were circled

in red, and the date—“May 24, 1940”—was underlined in heavy ink. Today’s date was scrawled

beside it: “November 18, 1940.”

Matthew crumpled the paper into his fist and jerked to his feet. “So what?” he demanded. He tossed the wad of newspaper into the garbage bin in the corner. His hands behind his back, he began to pace. “So what that our daughter was born three months ago and we’ve only been

married for six? We were sorry for it, Ruthie! We went before the church and confessed it to

everyone. We married.” He stopped in front of Ruthie and fell to his knees beside her, placing

his hands over hers and squeezing hard. “We did wrong. But we tried to do right. Why wasn’t

that enough?”

Ruthie raised her eyes to his. They were dull, with none of the shine in them that had made

him fall for her when they were kids of sixteen and seventeen. She didn’t move, didn’t shift her

hand to hold his. She just stared at him, stared past him, as if the fever that had stolen her hearing had taken her soul as well.

“Dear God, why?” Matthew leapt up and ran from the room. His eyes burned as he pounded up the tiny staircase that led to his and Ruthie’s equally tiny bedroom. He shoved the door open and dropped onto the bed, pressing his hands against his eyes. 

The little wooden crib was just a few steps away. They’d had to burn all the bed clothes.

Everything she’d touched was gone, even the little doll Ruthie had so carefully stitched for her.

All they had left to remind them of her presence was this empty shell of a bed.

Matthew bit down on his knuckle, pushing back the sob that yearned to tear from his throat. “Please, God,” he whispered, slumping forward, “help me. I know I don’t deserve it. But I’ve lost Ellie, and now I’m losing Ruthie, too. God, forgive me. Help me.”

Only silence answered him. Matthew swallowed hard, past the tightness of his throat. That

was the only answer he ever received these days. Even God had abandoned him.

Matthew exhaled, willing the pain and the grief to leave him as easily as that puff of breath did. A cold wind from the open window nipped at his cheek. His eyes trailed over the room, stopping on the bureau wedged into the far corner. Several sheets of paper resting on top of it testified that it doubled as Matthew’s desk. He stood and crossed over to it, shuffling through the papers. It had been at least a month since he’d touched them—only a month since his world fell apart.

He picked up the papers and carried them to the bin in the opposite corner. If they’d sat there for a month, they couldn’t be important. 

Another breeze entered the room, this one catching the papers and snatching them out of his hand. Matthew groaned as the pages scattered across the floor, and he hurried to collect them all.

One fluttered close to the window, threatening to leave the room and become a part of the outdoors. Matthew grabbed at it and slammed the window closed.

Then he looked down at the wrinkled page in his hand and frowned. Black lines formed neat bars across the page, the topmost of which had several circles and lines scribbled onto it. The top of the page sported three simple words: “Ode to Ellie.”

The other papers fluttered onto the bed as Matthew gripped the one in his hands. He’d begun to write this two days before Ellie started running a fever. The rash had come next, all while the fever continued to ravage his daughter’s little body. Ruthie had cared for her day and night, until the fever struck her, too. The last thing she’d heard before it stole her ears was the wailing of her dying child.

Matthew shuddered, squeezing his eyes shut. Then they popped open again as he strode back to the bureau. A stubby pencil sat on top of it, and he grabbed it. A few swift strokes added more notes to the staff as Matthew transferred the melody running through his mind to the paper. It was springy and bubbly, mirroring Ellie’s smiles and gurgles that would have turned into laughs in time.

Soon the page was full. Matthew tugged open one of the bureau drawers and pulled out a fresh sheet of staff paper, continuing the tune. But the key switched to minor. Matthew hesitated, his hand slowing. There was darkness here—deep, frightening darkness that no light could pierce. It didn’t fit with the rest of the song. It shouldn’t be here.

But no other notes would come. At last, Matthew sighed and wrote down the oppressive

melody. It continued for several measures, each one filled with more agony than the last. And

then— Matthew paused, staring at the page. There was nothing now, only silence in his head. This was no way to end a piece of music, but no other notes presented themselves to him. He

scribbled a full-measure rest, then added another one just to spite the obstinate silence. Then one more, because the third one finished out the page.

He placed the two sheets side by side, skimming over the music that had poured from his

heart onto the pages. The first page was happy, excited, beautiful, promising nothing but hope.

The second one took those dreams and crushed them. And that dreadful silence at the end

threatened to ruin the whole thing.

He exhaled slowly as he placed the first page on top of the other. “I should play it,” he

muttered. “That’ll help me think of an ending.”

Ruthie was still in the rocking chair when Matthew came back down, sitting as if she hadn’t moved an inch. Matthew watched her for a moment, running through a thousand things he could say to her. But she wouldn’t respond to a one of them. She couldn’t. He moved to the old piano and sat down, propping up the two pages in front of him.

He placed his fingers on the keys. For a few seconds, he simply took in the feel of the worn

ivory under his fingertips, a sensation he’d gone without for a month. Then, following the notes

he had written, he began to play. He went slowly at first, pausing to jot down suggestions for

later. But when he reached the second page, he couldn’t stop. He played it all the way through,

right to the end of those awful rests. Exhaling heavily, he raised his hands and lowered his head.

There was still nothing for an ending.

Something rustled behind him, beside him. Then Ruthie was at the piano, staring at it, her

eyes longing as she reached out to touch it. Her hand slid over the wood, across the keys, and she closed her eyes as she drew in a deep breath. 

Matthew’s throat tightened as he watched her. She’d once told him that she could listen to him play for hours. “I’m working on something,” he said, working to keep his voice steady,

trying to act as if Ruthie’s moving didn’t send streams of hope coursing through him. “It’s… for

her.” He played the opening chord, pretending his wife would be able to hear it.

Ruthie jumped, her eyes flying open as she snatched her hand away from the piano. She

stared at the keys, then at Matthew, then back at the keys. 

Matthew blinked at her. “What?” Excitement stirred in his chest. She hadn’t had this much of a reaction to anything in weeks.

Ruthie pressed down on the keys, creating her favorite E-minor chord. The hint of a smile

fluttered across her lips, and she played another chord. The smile returned, staying longer this

time.

“Ruthie, can you hear that?” Matthew half-rose, craning his neck to look into his wife’s face. She didn’t answer, and the hope that had dared to raise its head crashed back into the pit of his stomach. He stared at her as she played note after note. And then his mouth formed a circle as his eyes grew wide. “Ruthie,” he whispered, “you can feel it.”

He pushed back the piano bench, the legs scraping across the floor. He touched Ruthie’s

shoulder, and she started before turning her head to look at him. He gestured to the bench. “Sit

down,” he invited. “Please.” She stared at him for a moment before nodding and sliding onto the bench.

Matthew pushed her close to the piano, his heart hammering in his chest. “Please, God,” he breathed, “let this work.” He stood behind Ruthie, his arms surrounding her as he took her hands and placed them on the keys, his own resting over hers. He closed his eyes and inhaled. Then he played.

He played through his song, from start to finish. He played exactly as he had first written it,

disregarding his edits. His fingers traveled across the keys, and Ruthie’s hands kept pace with

his. She tensed when the second page began, but he pressed on. He took her through the

heartbreak, through the rage of grief. When the silence came, he kept his hands on the keys, and Ruthie sat motionless. He let it continue: one measure… two measures… three measures. Then, letting out his breath in a slow sigh, he played again the opening notes of the piece. 

He let the last note linger, holding down the key until the sound from it faded naturally away.

Only then did he raise his hands and look down at Ruthie’s face. She was gazing up at him, her face wet and her eyes shimmering. She smiled at him—a gentle, tremulous smile that sent his heart soaring. He returned it with a wobbly one of his own. 

Ruthie placed her hands back on the keyboard. Matthew put his over hers and squeezed. “Thank You,” he murmured. 

Then he played for her.

Wasn't that just precious? *sniffs* If y'all are interested in reading more from M.C. Kennedy, check out her website, where you can learn about her debut novel (and its re-release, which I am so excited for), A Wolf's Rose!

yours in spirit and script, Grace

#featuredstory #shortstory #historicalfiction

Featured Story: Ode to Ellie by M.C. Kennedy

Y'all, this story is too sad and yet sweet, too touching not to share! I hope y'all enjoy Ode to Ellie by M.C. Kennedy!

Mrs. Henry’s finger was shaking up and down like a sideways metronome, her face red and

her eyes sparking as she hissed, “You have sinned. Your daughter’s death would have been proof enough, but Ruthie’s deafness only confirms it. You ought to be falling on your knees in

repentance, Matthew Keaton, begging for God’s mercy on your life. How long will you continue

to live in your sin?”

For the first time, Matthew was glad his wife couldn’t hear anything. His lanky frame towered over Mrs. Henry as the muscles in his jaw twitched. “I appreciate your concern, Mrs. Henry,” he said, keeping his tone even only with an effort. “Now I must ask you to leave.” He strode across the floor and tugged open the door. The crisp autumn air pushed into the room, though it did little to dispel the tension permeating the very walls.

Mrs. Henry spluttered, her cheeks turning from red to purple. She marched toward the door

and rose as tall as she could to speak directly into Matthew’s face. “I am innocent of your

blood,” she spat. “It is on your own head now.” She sailed across the threshold, the house

shaking as she slammed the door behind her.

Matthew’s shoulders slumped, and he leaned his arm against the doorframe, drawing in a

shaky breath. “Oh God,” he sighed. “Dear God.”

The house was silent as he turned back around to face the small sitting room. Two wooden

rocking chairs, a small table, and an old upright piano comprised the furniture. Mrs. Henry had

just vacated the chair on the right. Ruthie occupied the other one, her eyes fixed on the

newspaper clipping lying on the table, her hands clasped tightly in her lap.

“She’s just a mean old lady,” Matthew said, moving back into the sitting room and dropping into the empty chair. “That’s all. She doesn’t really know what she’s talking about.”

Ruthie said nothing. The only thing indicating she was still alive, aside from the stiffness of

her back, was the steady rising and falling of her chest as she breathed. Everything else, from the paleness of her skin to the blankness of her eyes, spoke of death.

Matthew pinched the bridge of his nose, squeezing his eyes shut. “You ought to be falling on your knees in repentance, Matthew Keaton!” Mrs. Henry’s accusation rang in his mind, and he

splayed his hands over his face. “How long will you continue to live in your sin?”

But he had repented. They both had—though the way he saw it, he was the only one to blame.

The golden band encircling Ruthie’s left ring finger proved to the world that he’d done the

honorable thing and married her.

Apparently, though, it wasn’t enough for God. 

Matthew picked up the newspaper clipping from the table. Mrs. Henry had brought it with

her, shoving it at him as soon as he opened the door to her, insisting that this was the reason for

the tragedy that had fallen upon his family. The square of paper was from several months ago

and featured the town’s weekly marriage announcements. His and Ruthie’s names were circled

in red, and the date—“May 24, 1940”—was underlined in heavy ink. Today’s date was scrawled

beside it: “November 18, 1940.”

Matthew crumpled the paper into his fist and jerked to his feet. “So what?” he demanded. He tossed the wad of newspaper into the garbage bin in the corner. His hands behind his back, he began to pace. “So what that our daughter was born three months ago and we’ve only been

married for six? We were sorry for it, Ruthie! We went before the church and confessed it to

everyone. We married.” He stopped in front of Ruthie and fell to his knees beside her, placing

his hands over hers and squeezing hard. “We did wrong. But we tried to do right. Why wasn’t

that enough?”

Ruthie raised her eyes to his. They were dull, with none of the shine in them that had made

him fall for her when they were kids of sixteen and seventeen. She didn’t move, didn’t shift her

hand to hold his. She just stared at him, stared past him, as if the fever that had stolen her hearing had taken her soul as well.

“Dear God, why?” Matthew leapt up and ran from the room. His eyes burned as he pounded up the tiny staircase that led to his and Ruthie’s equally tiny bedroom. He shoved the door open and dropped onto the bed, pressing his hands against his eyes. 

The little wooden crib was just a few steps away. They’d had to burn all the bed clothes.

Everything she’d touched was gone, even the little doll Ruthie had so carefully stitched for her.

All they had left to remind them of her presence was this empty shell of a bed.

Matthew bit down on his knuckle, pushing back the sob that yearned to tear from his throat. “Please, God,” he whispered, slumping forward, “help me. I know I don’t deserve it. But I’ve lost Ellie, and now I’m losing Ruthie, too. God, forgive me. Help me.”

Only silence answered him. Matthew swallowed hard, past the tightness of his throat. That

was the only answer he ever received these days. Even God had abandoned him.

Matthew exhaled, willing the pain and the grief to leave him as easily as that puff of breath did. A cold wind from the open window nipped at his cheek. His eyes trailed over the room, stopping on the bureau wedged into the far corner. Several sheets of paper resting on top of it testified that it doubled as Matthew’s desk. He stood and crossed over to it, shuffling through the papers. It had been at least a month since he’d touched them—only a month since his world fell apart.

He picked up the papers and carried them to the bin in the opposite corner. If they’d sat there for a month, they couldn’t be important. 

Another breeze entered the room, this one catching the papers and snatching them out of his hand. Matthew groaned as the pages scattered across the floor, and he hurried to collect them all.

One fluttered close to the window, threatening to leave the room and become a part of the outdoors. Matthew grabbed at it and slammed the window closed.

Then he looked down at the wrinkled page in his hand and frowned. Black lines formed neat bars across the page, the topmost of which had several circles and lines scribbled onto it. The top of the page sported three simple words: “Ode to Ellie.”

The other papers fluttered onto the bed as Matthew gripped the one in his hands. He’d begun to write this two days before Ellie started running a fever. The rash had come next, all while the fever continued to ravage his daughter’s little body. Ruthie had cared for her day and night, until the fever struck her, too. The last thing she’d heard before it stole her ears was the wailing of her dying child.

Matthew shuddered, squeezing his eyes shut. Then they popped open again as he strode back to the bureau. A stubby pencil sat on top of it, and he grabbed it. A few swift strokes added more notes to the staff as Matthew transferred the melody running through his mind to the paper. It was springy and bubbly, mirroring Ellie’s smiles and gurgles that would have turned into laughs in time.

Soon the page was full. Matthew tugged open one of the bureau drawers and pulled out a fresh sheet of staff paper, continuing the tune. But the key switched to minor. Matthew hesitated, his hand slowing. There was darkness here—deep, frightening darkness that no light could pierce. It didn’t fit with the rest of the song. It shouldn’t be here.

But no other notes would come. At last, Matthew sighed and wrote down the oppressive

melody. It continued for several measures, each one filled with more agony than the last. And

then— Matthew paused, staring at the page. There was nothing now, only silence in his head. This was no way to end a piece of music, but no other notes presented themselves to him. He

scribbled a full-measure rest, then added another one just to spite the obstinate silence. Then one more, because the third one finished out the page.

He placed the two sheets side by side, skimming over the music that had poured from his

heart onto the pages. The first page was happy, excited, beautiful, promising nothing but hope.

The second one took those dreams and crushed them. And that dreadful silence at the end

threatened to ruin the whole thing.

He exhaled slowly as he placed the first page on top of the other. “I should play it,” he

muttered. “That’ll help me think of an ending.”

Ruthie was still in the rocking chair when Matthew came back down, sitting as if she hadn’t moved an inch. Matthew watched her for a moment, running through a thousand things he could say to her. But she wouldn’t respond to a one of them. She couldn’t. He moved to the old piano and sat down, propping up the two pages in front of him.

He placed his fingers on the keys. For a few seconds, he simply took in the feel of the worn

ivory under his fingertips, a sensation he’d gone without for a month. Then, following the notes

he had written, he began to play. He went slowly at first, pausing to jot down suggestions for

later. But when he reached the second page, he couldn’t stop. He played it all the way through,

right to the end of those awful rests. Exhaling heavily, he raised his hands and lowered his head.

There was still nothing for an ending.

Something rustled behind him, beside him. Then Ruthie was at the piano, staring at it, her

eyes longing as she reached out to touch it. Her hand slid over the wood, across the keys, and she closed her eyes as she drew in a deep breath. 

Matthew’s throat tightened as he watched her. She’d once told him that she could listen to him play for hours. “I’m working on something,” he said, working to keep his voice steady,

trying to act as if Ruthie’s moving didn’t send streams of hope coursing through him. “It’s… for

her.” He played the opening chord, pretending his wife would be able to hear it.

Ruthie jumped, her eyes flying open as she snatched her hand away from the piano. She

stared at the keys, then at Matthew, then back at the keys. 

Matthew blinked at her. “What?” Excitement stirred in his chest. She hadn’t had this much of a reaction to anything in weeks.

Ruthie pressed down on the keys, creating her favorite E-minor chord. The hint of a smile

fluttered across her lips, and she played another chord. The smile returned, staying longer this

time.

“Ruthie, can you hear that?” Matthew half-rose, craning his neck to look into his wife’s face. She didn’t answer, and the hope that had dared to raise its head crashed back into the pit of his stomach. He stared at her as she played note after note. And then his mouth formed a circle as his eyes grew wide. “Ruthie,” he whispered, “you can feel it.”

He pushed back the piano bench, the legs scraping across the floor. He touched Ruthie’s

shoulder, and she started before turning her head to look at him. He gestured to the bench. “Sit

down,” he invited. “Please.” She stared at him for a moment before nodding and sliding onto the bench.

Matthew pushed her close to the piano, his heart hammering in his chest. “Please, God,” he breathed, “let this work.” He stood behind Ruthie, his arms surrounding her as he took her hands and placed them on the keys, his own resting over hers. He closed his eyes and inhaled. Then he played.

He played through his song, from start to finish. He played exactly as he had first written it,

disregarding his edits. His fingers traveled across the keys, and Ruthie’s hands kept pace with

his. She tensed when the second page began, but he pressed on. He took her through the

heartbreak, through the rage of grief. When the silence came, he kept his hands on the keys, and Ruthie sat motionless. He let it continue: one measure… two measures… three measures. Then, letting out his breath in a slow sigh, he played again the opening notes of the piece. 

He let the last note linger, holding down the key until the sound from it faded naturally away.

Only then did he raise his hands and look down at Ruthie’s face. She was gazing up at him, her face wet and her eyes shimmering. She smiled at him—a gentle, tremulous smile that sent his heart soaring. He returned it with a wobbly one of his own. 

Ruthie placed her hands back on the keyboard. Matthew put his over hers and squeezed. “Thank You,” he murmured. 

Then he played for her.

Wasn't that just precious? *sniffs* If y'all are interested in reading more from M.C. Kennedy, check out her website, where you can learn about her debut novel (and its re-release, which I am so excited for), A Wolf's Rose!

yours in spirit and script, Grace

#featuredstory #shortstory #historicalfiction