Cheryl Grey Bostrom's Blog, page 2

Komodo Dragon

The sniff. The hiss. The slow, body-length, nose-to-skin inspection. In his long-perfected impression of a two-hundred pound Komodo Dragon, Uncle Chris lumbered from kid-to-kid, all lying prone on the carpet and trying their darnest not to react.

A shriek? She was out. Uncontrollable giggles? He crawled away, too. One-by-one, children caved to the creepy dragon nosing their ears or ribs or backs of knees until only the most intrepid child remained.

Usually, a four-year-old.

Two generations of kids loved the game—including mine. Played it with their own children.

And they loved Uncle Chris.

Two weeks ago, their favorite muscly dragon was driving his 35th Edition Mustang Cobra on the freeway when a blood vessel burst in his groin. At the guardrail, the car rolled, and elite warrior Chris Soto began the fight of his life.

A week later, he won.

His wife (the beloved sister I talk to daily) and his brother Scott (also a military pilot) said this about Chris in his obituary:

A week after a ruptured aneurysm and a subsequent car crash, Christopher C. Soto, a warrior veteran of the United States Air Force, slipped his final bond of earth, danced the skies on laughter-silvered wings for the last time, and climbed the high sanctity of space, where he met the Savior he chose to trust in his last days.

The son of Arthur and Barbara Soto, Chris grew up in Tucson Arizona. He was the oldest of four brothers, including David, Scott, and Nick. Born May 28, 1952, Chris attended Rincon High School where he graduated in 1970. He received an appointment to the United States Air Force Academy “Best Alive” class of 1975. Chris earned a Bachelor of Science degree, majoring in history, and was commissioned a second lieutenant upon graduation.

Chris distinguished himself in various assignments during his 25 year career. As a First Lieutenant Electronic Warfare Officer (EWO) in the 561st “Wild Weasel” Fighter Squadron, during takeoff on a daily training flight, his F-105 Thunderchief aircraft—aka “Thud”—failed to respond to nose-up pitch commands and could not be stopped on the remaining runway. Traveling at 235 miles per hour, the aircraft overran the perimeter road, crashed through a fence, hit a small hill, tore off the landing gear, and exploded.

With the fire spreading, Chris quickly egressed from the aircraft only to realize his pilot was unconscious and couldn’t escape the burning plane. Without hesitation, Chris rushed back to the aircraft, raised the canopy and pulled his pilot out of the cockpit to safety. His act of valor and self-sacrifice resulted in the Secretary of the Air Force awarding Chris the Cheney Award and Airman’s Medal for Heroism.

In another incident, as a Captain and Flight Commander in the 90th “Wild Weasel” Tactical Fighter Squadron flying the F-4G Phantom II, Chris and his pilot were on a routine air combat training flight when the F-4G got into an unrecoverable spin. Realizing the plane was in peril, Chris commanded his crew to eject. The pilot was found within an hour, but it was several hours before Chris was located in the jungle mountains of the Philippines.

At Chris and Jan’s house, as family waited for words from the rescue helicopters, Jan could be heard saying, “He’ll be OK. He is too tough not to be.”

After eight years in combat operational squadrons, Chris took the path to the “dark side,” or what is more formally referred to as “The Black World,” where he participated in, and managed, numerous highly-classified programs and operations requiring the highest security clearances.

Even when he retired as a Lieutenant Colonel in 2000, Chris was not finished. He traded his Air Force blue suit for contractor gray and protected our country and the warfighters defending it with his accountability and integrity. No one knew what he actually did in that job, since he would say, “If I told you, I’d have to kill you.” He finally retired from defense contracting in 2018. 

His hobbies included challenging the local pros in racquetball, reading Clancy-style techno-thriller novels, engaging robo-callers, taking family vacations, improving their rural Virginia land, and sunbathing on Mexico beaches. True to his rich sense of humor, the first time Chris watched Home Alone, he laughed until he cried.

Whether escorting his daughter on the homecoming court, catching reptiles to bring home for pets, supervising his children during summer days at the pool, playing Komodo Dragon with kids, or riding motorcycle with his son, he was always present with his family.

Watching their children develop and grow, Chris and Jan recognized the importance of helping all children who needed a forever home and acted upon that belief by fostering and adopting many. He stood up for those kids, gave them opportunities to heal, encouraged their dreams, and taught them to honor family. His boys remember him saying, “We’re the thorns and Mom’s the rose. We protect the rose.”

Chris is survived by Jan, his wife of 44 years; their children Adam T. Soto (Becky), Chrisjan C. Soto, Mica E. Soto, Crissy D. Lowe, Delzar A. Soto, Denesha T. Saul (Brian), Darrell C. Soto, Genesis B. Soto, DeWayne N. Soto, Malaysia R. Soto, Renato H. Soto (Nora); and 21 grandchildren.

Services will be held on Monday, Nov 04, 2024 at First Baptist Church, 13600 Minnieville Rd., Woodbridge, VA.  In lieu of flowers, memorial donations will be welcomed at the charity of your choice.  

***

Just wanted you to know.

Chris will surely have more stories of rescue to tell when we meet him again. Especially his last one.

*******

Meanwhile, from my recent trip to NW Washington’s San Juan Islands, a few pics and thoughts for you.

“The LORD is my light and my salvation; whom shall I fear?

The LORD is the stronghold of my life; of whom shall I be afraid?”

—Psalm 27:1

***

“O storm-battered . . . troubled and desolate! I will rebuild you . . .”

—Isaiah 54:11

***

“The LORD, the Lord, is my strength. He makes my feet like the deer’s . . . “

—Habakkuk 3:19

***

“He will wipe every tear from their eyes, and there will be no more death or sorrow or crying or pain. All these things are gone forever.”

—Revelation 21:14

***

Amen.

Shifting gears to BOOKISH STUFF:

The WINNER of Susan Meissner’s To Mimi’s House We Go is . . .

CINDY MERRILL!

Congratulations, Cindy! Please reply with your snail-mail address, and I’ll send the book to you later next week.

***

And now . . . the GIVEAWAY OF THE YEAR!

Entries won’t officially begin until November 4, but if you’re reading this, you can sign up early.

Here’s the gist:

*CALLING ALL BOOK LOVERS!*Welcome to the Reader’s Wonderland Giveaway! ♡ A large group of us authors are teaming up to bless FOUR WINNERS in a READER’S WONDERLAND GIVEAWAY!

All you have to do is enter your email for a chance to win! That’s it!

** ENTERING THE GIVEAWAY IS SIMPLE – Sign up with your email for a chance to win one of FOUR fantastic prizes:

Prize #1: Wonderland Book Bundle #1  including 13 fiction and nonfiction books (worth $250+)!

Prize #2 Wonderland Book Bundle #2  including 13 fiction and nonfiction books (worth $250+)!

Prize #3: $200 Amazon Gift Card

Prize #4: $200 Amazon Gift Card

ENTER THE GIVEAWAY HERE:   https://kingsumo.com/g/3z9qzem/a-readers-wonderland-giveaway

—or click the image below.

** Want to increase your chances of winning??  For additional entries, return to the link anytime before NOVEMBER 11 to FOLLOW, LIKE AND SUBSCRIBE TO the participating authors. You’ll see the list when you enter.

***

IMPORTANT! The Reader’s Wonderland Giveaway runs 11/4-11/11. Random winners will be selected via KingSumo on 11/12 and notified within 48 hours. This giveaway is not sponsored or endorsed by anyone but the bunch of us. By entering the giveaway you agree to receive emails from the contributing authors as part of their email list, but feel free to unsubscribe at any time. All winners must confirm their emails via KingSumo’s confirmation email. We reserve the right to make sure each winner’s email address is valid. No purchase necessary. Void where prohibited. US Residents only. Must be 21+ years of age to participate.

Thank you for entering!

(This is a good one, friends. Share this with your book-loving friends? )

*******

In closing . . . I recently had the pleasure of chatting with Michelle Rayburn on her Midlife Repurposed Podcast. We talked story-telling, mid-life choices—and other topics I trust you’ll enjoy.

Michelle has a conversational knack . . . and extracts what matters.

She posted our interview Wednesday. If you haven’t heard it yet, click the image below or HERE to listen.

Nature-Inspired Storytelling with Cheryl Grey Bostrom

***

By the time you read this, Blake and I will be in the air, flying to the east coast for my brother-in-law’s memorial. As we remember him, I’ll imagine my him healed—and that grin of his—as he views his coffin from on high. “Now who’s thinking outside the box?” I bet he’d say.

Love,

Cheryl

Watching Nature, Seeing Life: Through His Creation, God Speaks.

The Dogs are Sleeping—in the Palouse

All three dogs. And with two hours until daylight here in the Snake River canyon, so is my husband on this Saturday morning. I’m writing from our 26 foot travel trailer, parked here on the riverbank since we arrived last Monday.

Doozy, our two-year-old setter, is snoozing in her crate beside me. Our old girls Mamba and Rose are curled in two more crates—giant ones—in the back of our truck. Littermates, they’re nearly thirteen now, and sleeping’s a consuming priority.

That, and exploring the Palouse hills and canyons, an annual trip that had those ancient pups again prancing in anticipation.

Here’s a phone shot of the Dooz at the Yakima River (taken en route here). Phone photos will have to do for this letter. My camera—with pics of all three girls—is tucked in a cupboard directly over Blake’s head.

Best to let that sleeping dog lie.

Ah. And here’s a years-ago phone pic of the older girls after a romp, happily exhausted.

As I write this, we’re in the canyon below that skinny cloud bank at the top left.

Friends’ grandad built the foreground barn in 1909—for the horses that drew plows and threshers back then.

Surrounding the barn? Dryland wheat farms, as far as the eye can see. They bring Deuteronomy 28:12 to mind:

“The Lord will open the heavens, the storehouse of his bounty, to send rain on your land in season and to bless all the work of your hands.”

He has.

Uh oh. Sentient beings are rousing. Gotta go.

If you’re a subscriber and haven’t yet entered the giveaway for Susan Meissner’s To Mimi’s House We Go , reply by Friday, November 1, with MIMI somewhere in your text, and I’ll drop your name in the drawing.

Finally, three more fun pics—bookish ones. The first two from Thursday morning’s book signing at Tick’s in Colfax, Washington. Great fun to meet readers smack in the heart of territory where Leaning on Air takes place. Lots of books went home for Christmas gifts.

The second, a surprise from reader Lorraine Groom, who wrote:

“Hi. I thought you’d like to see a picture of your book out in the wild. This is my new bookshelf at the library at my church in Platteville, Wisconsin. I am the librarian there.”

Thanks for sending, Lorraine. I’m adding this to pics from Maggie, Maureen, Valerie and others of Leaning on Air at the Eiffel and Pisa Towers and on boats, beaches. A good life for a book (and those who hold it).

Send me pics of you with the story? I’d love to share.

Just checked my watch. It’s fifteen minutes until 6:30 am, my favorite time of day—hands down.

What’s yours?

Love,

Cheryl

Watching Nature, Seeing LIfe: Through His Creation, God Speaks.

The Nuns of Shaw Island

Friends, 

I’m not a Catholic, but I’d looked forward to staying with the nuns for months. Since my first correspondence with Mother H, I’d imagined joining them on their 300 acre working farm at a Benedictine monastery of women known for their hospitality.

To reach Our Lady of the Rock, I’d travel to Shaw Island in Washington State’s San Juan Islands. With fewer than two hundred residents, Shaw is the smallest of the four islands connected to the mainland by the Anacortes ferry, but larger than hundreds of others in the archipelago, many of which I’d boated to with my grandparents as a child.

I’d have been met by an intern, not the nuns themselves, whose warm reception would have shown not in face-to-face interactions, but in their guest house, their garden, their fields, livestock, and chickens. In the contemplative atmosphere they’d have provided and the times of worship and prayer throughout the day.

The setting, I hoped, would have fostered my own inner quiet. I’d even planned to take a vow of silence for the four days I’d spend there—listening intently. Breathing. Seeking direction.

But two days before last week’s scheduled stay, Mother H wrote again, her kind email apologetic. Illness had come to the community. The worst was past, but with four women over eighty among them, they needed to cancel my visit.

I sat for a bit with the news, then contacted three friends, all wise and funny. Frankly, being with them is a contemplative experience, but without the solitude. “You up for some island-hopping?” I asked. 

They were. 

And so, on a monochrome day last week, we boarded the Anacortes ferry MV Yakima. An hour-plus later we hopped off at Shaw, the smallest island on the route.

Shaw’s densely wooded and rocky, its few fields cleared mostly by pioneers. Snugged near the ferry dock are a post office, bar, and store—all tiny. Apart from those buildings, a smattering of homes, a rustic library and school, the island’s pretty much wild, its forests dark. Locals we talked to from other islands call Shaw remote, broody. 

Exactly what I’d hoped to find.

“Nothing there,” said another.

Oh, but there was. We explored for three hours before the ferry returned.

And saw scenes like this:

And the library.

The little school.

A country road passed the monastery. Respectfully, I’m not posting pics of the buildings or personal spaces, but the setting carried me away. 

And on a biological preserve, this surprise gem:

When we boarded the next ferry, my mind hummed with ideas to for my new novel. (Did I tell you it’s set in those islands?)

And when we docked at San Juan Island? More on that later.

*****

Meanwhile . . .

For you EASTERN WASHINGTON FRIENDS, I hope we can connect when I’m in the Palouse this coming week! On Thursday, 10/24, I’ll be signing books at Tick’s in Colfax from 10-noon am. Stop by the store and say hi?

And if you’re in their broadcast area, listen in at 1:00 pm on Friday, 10/25, when I’ll be in Spokane for an interview with Annie on The Page Turner Show at KYRS Community Radio. We won’t be there long, but I hope to visit a few bookstores before we return to the Colfax/Penawawa area (Leaning on Air’s main setting) where we’ll roam those fabulous hills and catch up with long-time friends. I’d love to see you if you’re nearby. Write me?

*****

Speaking of Leaning on Air, for five more days, the ebook will be on sale for $1.99 most everywhere. It’s companion Sugar Birds is currently available for $3.99, though I’m not sure for how long.

If you like the books, consider putting them under your Christmas tree? I’m told they’re bullseye gifts for men and women alike. Sugar Birds has been devoured by teens, too.

Here’s what Washington State Magazine’s associate editor had to say about Leaning on Air: If you’re curious for more, there’s a Q & A link at the bottom.

Leaning on Air

Reviewed by Adriana Janovich

Twelve years have passed since Celia has seen Burnaby. She immediately notes how much the quiet, bone-hunting boy has changed. He has his doctorate now, along with a more refined set of social skills, and is about to start his career as a professor of veterinary medicine at Washington State University. She has her doctorate, too. Her specialty: birds.

Celia agrees to road-trip with Burnaby from rural Whatcom County, where they met as teens in 1985 in Cheryl Grey (Hobson) Bostrom’s 2021 debut novel  Sugar Birds , to WSU and the rolling hills of the Palouse. Most of the story takes place in this landscape, and Bostrom’s lyrical descriptions of it will resonate with those familiar with Pullman and its environs. It might even make them nostalgic for it.

Her poetic prose is chock-full of Evergreen State imagery and references⁠—bald eagles, Nanaimo bars, the salty seaweed scent of the sound, Anthony’s at Squalicum Harbor, Spokane’s Riverfront Park, the Snake River, a pocket of unspoiled Palouse prairie. Palouse prairie restoration is a sub-theme in this compelling sequel, which solidly stands on its own merit.

Leaning on Air  is told from multiple perspectives⁠—mostly those of Celia and Burnaby. His little sister, Agate or “Aggie,” a wildlife photographer, makes a brief but important appearance in this volume, too.

Leaning on Air  is a captivating story of spirituality and science, wind and wildfire, hardship and harvest, and the meaning of marriage. At its heart, it’s a love story. Expect exquisite writing, romance, mystery, tragedy, healing, and threads of Christian contemplation.

Bostrom plays with time, too, opening her story in 1997, then skipping ahead to 2008, when Celia is 39 and a professor at the University of Idaho. In between, readers encounter the pain of three generations of women, family secrets, loss, and, most of all, hope.

Love on the Palouse: Q&A with author Cheryl Grey Bostrom

Subscribed

GIVEAWAY NEWS:

Last week’s winner of LINES is PATRICIA BATE! Congratulations, Patricia! Please reply with your postal address and I’ll send the book right off to you. 

THIS WEEK’S GIVEAWAY for my (free) subscribers : To Mimi’s House We Go. A newly released children’s book by novelist Susan Meissner, it’s a true holiday treat—and a wonderful gift for kiddos and those who love them. 

Here’s the gist: 

Join bestselling author Susan Meissner and other “Mimis” in this Christmas-season poem inspired by the traditional holiday traveling song “Over the River and Through the Woods.” Modern families find their way to grandmother’s house using a variety of vehicles to celebrate with Mimis, Omas, Gigis, and Nanas.

This sweet Christmas story

is for boys and girls 4 to 8 years old and grandmothers of all names and types;explores the different modern modes of transport used to take Christmas journeys;features rhyming text resembling traditional carols and folksongs; andcelebrates the unique ways families celebrate Christmas while showing the common threads of food, family, and love in them all.

To Mimi’s House We Go combines the magic of Christmastime with sweet memories of time with Grandma in an adventurous romp through country and city, from coast to coast.

***

Reply by Friday, November 1with MIMI somewhere in your message or subject line and your name will go in the hat. I’ll announce the winner on Saturday, Nov 2—two weeks from today. 

AND, if you’d like to meet Susan in person, come to Village Books in Fairhaven, WA on Saturday, December 7, between 10:00 and noon. She’ll be signing copies of this engaging gem. 

Whew. This letter’s a LONG one . . . I’m older since I started writing it. I think I’ll call my new wrinkles wisecracks.

God’s blessings and love to each of you. So glad you’re here.

Cheryl 

Watching Nature Seeing Life: Through His Creation, God Speaks.

If You Think You’re Too Old

Friends,

Like some of you, she’s been married for more than sixty years. Has welcomed the arrivals of grands and a great. A lifetime of callings have positioned her alongside others not only as a wife and mother and grandmother, but as a counselor, chaplain, teacher, mentor, Coffee-Break ministry coordinator, author of multiple books, and friend.

And that’s just for starters.

Through a stream of relationships, she’s made lives better. In return, those whom she’s touched love her dearly . . . myself included.

But Donna VanderGriend has suffered, too. Her friends and beloveds’ illnesses and injuries, broken choices, financial losses, and deaths—so many deaths—come to mind.

As does her own pain, most recently from clinical depression. Doing better now, Donna would be the first to say that making sense of her ongoing struggle continues to inform her wisdom and worldview. In the sort of fabulous remaking for which God’s known, depression has since bolstered her hope.

Calling her healing process a relief is an understatement. After all she’s gone through, eighty-two-year-old Donna has every right to rest. To put her feet up.

But why would she? As suffering has shaped her life’s clay, her story’s even more interesting and useful than it may have been in her earlier years.

So she wrote about it in her new book: Lines: Stories and Sketches.

In last Wednesday’s Lynden Tribune Encore (pg C 10-11), Donna told former Tribune editor Cal Bratt, “These meditations . . . arose out of the long COVID tunnel and its aftermath of isolation, surgeries, caretaking, and losses.” She felt called to “remember, by writing it down, what I still believed and what I still want to believe.”

I’m not surprised that what emerged from her musings is rich with humor, hope and inspiration.

Because darkness doesn’t have to win.

I trust the book will bless you (and those to whom you gift it . . . for Christmas, maybe?) as it did me.

Here’s some of the gist from her cover copy:

LINES speak as we shape them into stories and sketches. This book is hold-in-your-hands encouragement to write your thoughts and draw your insights [if you want to] . . . Between you and me and God and the rest of us, the lines of creativity wait to come alive.

To each reader of LINES: Stories and Sketches, thank you for joining me in old memories and new reflections. Enjoy the journey though the misery and mercy and merriment of Story Lines, Bottom Lines, Lyrical Lines, Memorized Lines, Standing in Line, Side-Lined, Wrinkle Lines, Hairlines, Lifelines (and thirty-one more).

*****

A subscriber to these Saturday Letters of mine will win a copy of the book this week! To drop your name in the hat, reply with the word LINES by next Friday, October 18. If you don’t already subscribe, please do.:)

*****

Meanwhile, a few pics for you.

Sharpei. (Snake River breaks at dusk)

“And thou hast filled me with wrinkles . . . “

—Job 16:8 KJV

***

Harmony. Unison. Octaves. Perfect fourth.

This is my Father’s world.

I rest me in the thought

Of rocks and trees, of skies and seas

His hand the wonders wrought.

.

This is my Father’s world

Oh, let me never forget

That though the wrong seems oft so strong

God is the ruler yet.

—Maltbie Davenport Babcock

BTW . . . Recently my dentist retired, so his staff decided to get him a little plaque.

Thanks for stopping by. SO glad you’re here.

Love,

Cheryl

Watching Nature, Seeing Life: Through His Creation, God Speaks

EXCLUSIVE: Cover & Title Reveal!

Friends,

It’s here! The cover of my newest novel , complete with it’s brand new title: What the River Keeps!

Isn’t it beautiful? I couldn’t be more delighted.

You’re the first to see it—before Tyndale’s Summer ’25 Cover Feed goes live on October 14.  

Summer ‘25? Yes! I heard on Thursday that the book’s official release date will be Tuesday, August 12, 2025 (not May, as I’d previously believed). Whew. I’m thankful for the breathing room of those summer months. Next August sounds just right.

Now about the cover . . . If you’ve been to the Elwha, you’ll quickly realize this photo’s not an actual pic from the area.

Instead, it’s a symbolic image. The peaks, the steep foothills (both forested and denuded), and the narrow river opening into the lake all suggest the physical and historical course of the Elwha River from its headwaters in Olympic National Park through the pristine valley and two lakes now relegated to history.

Best of all, the cover beautifully points to the arc of this story, where a river rewilds, and where an unfolding mystery transforms my 34-year-old protagonist.

And then there’s that sunrise . . .

It’s essential to the cover. Strongholds fall in this tale, and light—physical, emotional, and spiritual—breaks into some dim valleys.

As can happen in us.

Here’s the story’s gist (and cover copy):

In the beautiful Pacific Northwest, a young woman’s discovery of her hidden past illuminates her present in this new novel from the award-winning author of  Sugar Birds , “an engrossing tale” ( Kirkus Reviews ), and  Leaning on Air , “an exquisitely nuanced love story” ( BookTrib ). 

Hildy Nybo is a successful biologist, her study of the Pacific Northwest’s wild fish both a passion and a career. But behind her professional brilliance, Hildy’s reclusive private life reflects a childhood fraught with uncertainty. Despite her father’s love and her mother’s sympathy, she grew up constantly losing even her most cherished belongings, unable to recall where she misplaced them. Haunted by the confusion of those early years, she now records her life in detailed diaries and clings tightly to memory-prompting keepsakes.

Then her mother’s health fails, and Hildy accepts a job near her childhood home, joining a team of scientists who will help restore her beloved Elwha River after the demolition of two century-old dams. There Hildy settles into one of the cabins on her family’s rustic resort—a place she both loves and dreads, for reasons she can’t fully explain.

When local artist Miranda Rimmer rents an adjacent cabin for her pottery studio, Hildy shrinks from such a close neighbor. But then Miranda’s carpenter brother, Luke, shows up to help with construction and captures Hildy’s attention. Now a few years beyond a tragedy that brought him to his knees, Luke recognizes a kindred soul in Hildy, and they build a relationship that dismantles the walls Hildy’s built to keep people out. As troubling pieces of the past surface, Hildy dares to wonder if she can banish the shadows that have burdened her and follow her river’s course to freedom.  

***

I’m beyond excited for you to read it.

*****

BTW, I was looking at Palouse pics this week and ran across this retired heavy-lifter.

Reminded me of a whole bunch of us.

And how we don’t have to be shiny to be strong—and to like each other just the weigh we are.

Love,

Cheryl

A Cry from the Deep: Two Words for When You Fear Drowning

Friends,

I’ve been walking edges for two weeks: Oregon shorelines, which are, for me, perfect illustrations of the liminal zones I often hike in my mind.

You know, those beaches of transition between the seen and the unseen, the known and the unknown—their sand and rock and relentless waves thresholds I must cross to hunt the holy, to reach the deep.

The deep . . . above which, storms may rage.

These pics, along with Psalm 107, spoke to me about all that.

Reminded me of a two word cry for when I fear drowning.

Your cry, too?

Psalm 107

24They . . . observed the LORD’s power in action,

his impressive works on the deepest seas.

25He spoke, and the winds rose,

stirring up the waves.

26 Their ships were tossed to the heavens

and plunged again to the depths;

the sailors cringed in terror.

27They reeled and staggered . . .

and were at their wits’ end.

28“LORD, help!” they cried in their trouble,

and he saved them from their distress.

29He calmed the storm to a whisper

and stilled the waves.

30What a blessing was that stillness

as he brought them safely into harbor!

31Let them praise the LORD for his great love.

*****

BOOK NEWS?

Nada yet. I’m still awaiting that shareable cover for my next novel . . . but you’ll be the first to see it when it arrives.

In the meantime, subscribe with your email to these (free) Saturday Letters and I’ll enter you in a drawing for all three of my novel when #3 releases in May . . . and you’ll be eligible for all sorts of other books in my regular giveaways.

*******

BTW, we talked a lot about food on our camping trip. One of the guys in our group said he thinks going vegan would be a huge missed steak.

Your thoughts on that?

What thresholds have you crossed lately? I’d love to hear.

Warmly,

Cheryl

Dunes, Foghorns, and Breakthroughs

Friends,

We thought there might be fog.

In fact, given the heat inland, when ten of us set out on a two-week camping route along the coast of northern California and Oregon, we expected it.

That dense, droplet air. That grainy footing. We returned from morning walks with glasses blurred, hair streaming, the unfinished waves and drifty dunes our only landmarks.

Half the time, we couldn’t see those, either.

We needed the foghorn to find our way back.

“How do you know what your life will be like tomorrow? Your life is like the morning fog—it’s here a little while, then it’s gone.” —James 4:14

“Now we see things imperfectly, like puzzling reflections in a mirror, but then we will see everything with perfect clarity. All that I know now is partial and incomplete, but then I will know everything completely, just as God now knows me completely.” —1 Corinthians 13:12

“The one who calls you is faithful, and he will do it.” —1 Thessalonians 5:24

My whole summer’s been like that. I’d hoped to be back with you sooner, but one thematic thread in the plot of my newest novel fogged me in for weeks.

Patchwork edits here and there simply didn’t work.

Only after backs and forths with my editor, many hours of prayer, intense listening for guidance, and an entire rewrite did holy Light finally, finally clear things up.

The story’s new view continues to surprise and delight me. I hope you like it, too.

A few days ago my editor submitted the revised manuscript to the copyeditors, and Tyndale finalized the cover. As soon as I receive a shareable copy (next week?) you’ll be the first to see it—complete with its beautiful new title.

Funny, but the edits and cover came through a week into this trip of ours—and the next day, we awoke to blue skies. No fog anywhere.

Next week, sunshine pics.

***

Meanwhile . . .

A GIVEAWAY WINNER:

THE WINNER of Carla Gasser’s The Beauty of an Uncluttered Soul (offered in my July 27 post) is JANE WEAVER. Congratulations, Jane! Please reply with your snail mail address, and I’ll send the book off to you next week.

HAPPY BOOK NEWS:

Leaning on Air was just named a SILVER WINNER in the 2024 Readers’ Favorite Awards, Inspirational Fiction category.

Honored & grateful. Soli Deo gloria.

Watch for my next book’s COVER AND TITLE REVEAL—next week, I hope.

SUBSCRIBE NOW to these Saturday Letters for chances to win:

A THREE BOOK SET of my novels (SUGAR BIRDS, LEANING ON AIR, and ???) when # 3 releases next spring.and all sorts of giveaways before then.

A Bit MORE . . .

So many of you opened doors for me when I began writing fiction, and you spread the word about my novels. In like fashion, I’m delighted to introduce you to Alaska native and now part-time Whatcom County resident Lynne Curry!

A former syndicated columnist and the author of six business books, Lynne writes a weekly “Dear Abby of the Workplace” column for the Anchorage Daily News, and her agent is shopping her first novel to publishers. If you enjoy commercial, general-market, suspense fiction, you’ll want to sample Lynne’s work and track her publishing progress at her truly excellent blog: Real Life Writing https://bit.ly/45lNbVo .

I’ll close with a random shot from out in those Oregon dunes that looked like a question-popper. (If she’s an author, has he found Mrs. Write?)

How was your summer? I’d love to hear.

Warmly,

Cheryl

Watching Nature Seeing Life: Through His Creation, God Speaks

Dog Habits—and a Giveaway

Friends,

Since I don’t remember writing this post when I started my blog six years ago, odds are you won’t remember it either. Chances are even better that you’re not among the original readers anyway, since back then only a few friends and family subscribed.

Regardless, this is as true for me now as it was then—and I hope you find it so, too. Since aging is a given from the day we’re born, here’s what our canines have taught me about the process.

HOW TO AGE LIKE A DOG

At 5:30 am on Saturday, we drop the tailgate. Two of our three dogs fly onto the truck’s bed and into their crates, wild with anticipation. Thirteen-year-old Lucy needs a boost, then eagerly finds her kennel beside the others. She scrapes her towels into a heap and flops on her side like Cleopatra on a chaise.

She has no idea how old she is.

Forget the familiar formula. One human year does not equal seven dog years. The ratio is even steeper than that. Roughly speaking, a canine’s first year counts for 15 of ours. The second year, nine. Each subsequent calendar year equals anywhere from five to seven years for a dog.

Good thing sugar-faced Lucy doesn’t do math. Despite the fact that one dog-years chart lands her at the 82-year mark in human terms, she’s still going strong, aging well right there in the back of our pickup.

Two hours later we’re parked along the banks of Washington’s Snoqualmie River watching forty other sporting dogs go through their paces, waiting our turns to run the two younger dogs on a course through the field. From the end of her leash, Mama Lu believes she’s still part of it all.

Which she is.

Shortly after we arrive, she wags at an English pointer and a Brittany spaniel. The pointer’s her friend from years before. The spaniel growled at her once. She spots a son she hasn’t seen for a year, licks his ears, then sits down when he gets a little too sniffy in the wrong place.

She often lifts her nose and reads the air, the tip of her snout bobbling as she catches the scent of birds overhead and in the knee-high grasses. She takes a few bites of her kibble. Samples fresh droppings from the judges’ horses. Licks her chops and chews another, larger bite from the pile.

After every foray into the field she loops back to her water bucket, hidden in the truck’s shade. She laps up a mouthful and lies down to gnaw a rawhide bone before she noses some molehill dirt over it and curls up for a snooze.

By day’s end, I know I want to age like that dog. On the way home, I figure out how.

TO AGE LIKE A DOGSLEEP OFTEN.

(Snooze whenever, wherever.)

DRINK WATER.

(Lap it up all day long.)

EAT ENOUGH.

(But not too much. Be selective.)

GO OUTSIDE AND WALK AROUND.

(See what’s going on. Notice things.)

GET CLOSE ENOUGH TO FRIENDS TO SMELL THEM.

(And for them to smell you. But be polite with your sniffer. And sit down if you need to.)

6. BURY BONES

(Forget old dog fights.)

7. WAG, NO MATTER WHAT.

(What could be better?)

What would your dog have YOU add to the list?

***

Isaiah 46:4 – Even to your old age and gray hairs I am he, I am he who will sustain you. I have made you and I will carry you . . .

*******

GIVEAWAY!

To help you with #7—the wagging part, I have a WONDERFUL Bible study to give away to one of you: The Beauty of an Uncluttered Soul is a labor of love by my friend Carla Gasser, who blesses me with her Word-born wisdom and warmth and artist’s eye every time I talk or correspond with her.

If you’re looking for a personal or group study on the impact of the fruits of the Spirit, you’ll LOVE this ten-week course. From the cover and formatting to the content, this book is gorgeous, relevant—and will take you deep.

In case the pic makes you squint, here’s that cover copy:

If managing our home brings a sense of contentment, clearing our schedule instills calmness, and taking care of our body increases overall well-being, how much more could we gain if we clear the clutter and detoxify our soul?

Drawing from healthy, biblical principles of soul care and minimalism, author Carla Gasser walks the reader through eliminating clutter within. Using the Fruit of the Spirit (Galatians 5:22-23) as a guide, this ten-week Bible study will help refresh your soul from the inside out.

Purge your past.Shake out worry.Open your heart.Cleanse your mind.Declutter your attitudes.

Discover how you can trust God to free you from the clutter so He can reveal the beauty of an uncluttered soul.

***

Interested? Reply by AUGUST 15 with the word UNCLUTTERED and I’ll drop your name in the hat. Since faraway family’s coming here in August, my posts will be intermittent for the next month or so, but I’ll announce the winner the next time I write you again.

BOOK NEWS!

Soon, soon, SOON I’ll see the cover mock-ups for my next novel—releasing in May of 2025. I’ve been calling it River Hoarder, but the Tyndale team has come up with a WAY better title. Once I have the cover in hand, I’ll share both with you FIRST.

Deep edits on that manuscript are finished now. I’ll review copy edits from the publisher next month before those pages head off to the formatter!

Meanwhile, I imagined Celia telling Leaning on Air‘s Burnaby that quantum mechanics have no sense of humor. I heard him reply that it was no laughing matter.

Love,

Cheryl

P.S. Have you read Leaning on Air yet?

The Roar’s Deep Call: a Photo Meditation

You’ve written me about the heat, friends: how it’s ninety, one hundred, even one hundred twenty degrees where you are. How you’re hunting shade and AC and beaches.

Some of you say the weather inside you is even hotter. You’re burning up from choices that veered . . . or from your world gone awry.

Whether you’re cooking inside or out, today this letter is for you.

Ponder awhile?

As the deer longs for streams of water,

so I long for you, O God.

I thirst for You, the living God . . .

My tears have been my food day and night . . . I pour out my heart.

Deep calls to deep

in the roar of your waterfalls.

Your breakers and waves have swept over me.

But each day You pour your unfailing love upon me . . .

I hope in You . . . my Savior and my God!

******

Watching Nature, Seeing Life; Through His Creation, God Speaks.

*******

Gotta go. My taste buds asked me to join them at the waterfront for seafood.

(Where do you go to cool off?)

Love,

Cheryl

P.S. The WINNERS of last week’s giveaway?

Barbara Shultze – Fire Music

Helen King – The Surface of Water

Please send me your mailing addresses, and I’ll ship the books right off to you! (They’re signed by the authors! We had breakfast together on Tuesday. :))

How to Make Settings Chop Firewood (& a Fictiony Giveaway)

OR how to make story settings eat carrots, or iron shirts, or bleed from one ear.

Or, as host Jennia D’Lima named episode 272, “How to Bring Your Setting to Life.” She and I recently explored that topic on her Writing and Editing podcast.

This woman knows her stuff, I thought, as, within a minute or two, I suspected she’d somehow extract elements of my writing process I’d never voiced before.

Which, of course, she did.

I think it helped that I didn’t get her questions or even the topic in advance. Didn’t know what we’d talk about. Some of my off-the-cuff answers about the settings for my novels Sugar Birds and Leaning on Air surprised me, and as I articulated them, I learned more about the instinctive process I employ when building a fictional world.

Learned more about myself, too.

Have a listen? The interview’s also transcribed, but please squint past all the times I say “you know . . .” Click the image below for either the audio or written version.

*******

Now some EVENTS and GIVEAWAYS for . . .

OREGON FRIENDS. If you’re in the vicinity of Albany, Oregon on Friday, July 12 (evening) or Saturday, July 13 (all day), I’d love to connect with you at the Heritage Mall for Willamette Valley Christian Supply’s CHRISTMAS IN JULY. Stop by? It’s a huge event with special deals, giveaways, and discounts on everything from ornaments and published works to gifts and clothing.

More than a dozen of us authors will be there to chat with you and sign BOOKS!

Sounds fun, right? Hope to see you there.

*******

FICTION LOVERS: I’m GIVING AWAY TWO STELLAR NEW BOOKS by a couple of author friends touring our corner of the PNW: Fire Music, by Connie Hampton Connally (general market fiction from Coffeetown Press), and The Surface of Water by Cynthia Beach (cross-market fiction from InterVarsity).

Click the links or cover images to learn more about each book, then let me know your preference for the drawing(s) you’d like to enter with the word FIRE or WATER (or both) in your reply. I’ll announce winners on July 13.

Caveat: This giveaway’s just for subscribers. Reply with your email address to subscribe—and I’ll gladly enter you, too.

NW WASHINGTON FRIENDS: Come meet those touring authors Cynthia Beach and Connie Hampton Connally! Hear them talk writing, answer questions, and read from their new books! Their book tour will bring them to these PNW venues:

LOPEZ ISLAND LIBRARY, Lopez Island, WA – Monday July 8 at 5:30 pm.

WALLS OF BOOKS BOOKSTORE, Issaquah, WA – Thursday July 11 – an author meet-and-greet from 11:00-1:00. 

INVITATION BOOKSHOP, Gig Harbor, WA – Friday, July 12 – a presentation and discussion at 6:30 pm.

*******

Frankly, as much as I enjoy events like these, it’s in the summery spaces between them where the introvert in me is most nourished. In sweet hours outdoors, where earth and sky and all that flourish and fly in the natural world sing to our Maker in ten thousand lilty tunes.

For you who feel likewise, I’ve been snapping pics.

Our own Mt. Baker (one of Washington’s not-so-active but active volcanoes. )

Our neighbor cat and her new little ones, born the night before. I wish you could hear this momma purr. Did you, when your kits arrived?

Salmonberries—from the understory in our woods. I popped one in my mouth seconds before our three setters begged the balance. In another month those pups will pluck blackberries straight from wild vines.

So many passerine ground-nesters in our fields! Except for pathways where our dogs sprint, we delayed haying until first broods fledged.

Our neighbor girl snapped this grumpy-faced sweetness.

I hope yours July’s blossomy.

Everything on earth will worship you; they will sing your praises, shouting your name in glorious songs.

—Psalm 66:4

*******

(We used peas for bait when we went fishing last week. I wish I had pics. What a podcast! ) [image error]

Love,

Cheryl

Watching Nature, Seeing Life: Through His Creation, God Speaks.