Jan Dunlap's Blog, page 4

How to be both Christian and a science nerd

Being a closet science nerd, I love reading about cutting-edge research in any field: quantum mechanics, neurobiology, nutrition, veterinary medicine, geology, astrophysics, genetics. As a former college English major turned college English instructor, I also love Shakespeare and classic literature. So it was with great delight that I combined these two loves in my latest suspense novel titled “Heaven's Gate: Archangels Book One,” giving two of my characters a scientific profession, and another two an intimate familiarity with the Bard and other great writers. In fact, one of my favorite lines in the book is a direct quote from Shakespeare’s Hamlet and comes during a heated discussion about the possibility/reality of life after death: “There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio/Than are dreamt of in your philosophy.”

I think that is a fitting description of much of today’s scientific discoveries – hard-working researchers are teasing out the secrets of life that surpass even what we might have imagined or predicted in theory. Every new development leads to more inquiry and speculation – a hundred years ago, who could have imagined that MRIs or angiograms would become such common procedures in the medical practice of diagnosis? Or who would have thought that we’d be gawking at photos of galaxies light years away at the touch of a few keys on a tablet-sized computer?

As a committed Christian, I also think Shakespeare’s line is an insightful expression of the omniscience and omnipotence of our wondrous God. There’s a reason that Paul poses this question in I Corinthians 2:16: For, "Who can know the LORD's thoughts? Who knows enough to teach him?" God alone knows everything, and even the most dedicated scientist’s efforts to see into the mind of God will fall short. No human can possibly instruct the Lord who created all things in heaven and earth and even beyond! Personally, I get annoyed with anyone who claims to have all the answers, or even THE answer to any one riddle of life. Our God is infinite and full of infinite possibility, which means, to me, that His imagination has no boundaries. All any researcher can do is explore a small piece of creation in hopes he might learn something about it and be able to add it to the store of human knowledge about life. And that’s not a bad thing, because wisdom grows from knowledge, especially when it is tempered with the love of Jesus Christ.

Likewise, to think that science has nothing to do with God is, for me, ludicrous. God gave us intellects to know Him and His creation. Why wouldn’t we use the awesome gift of our thought processes to discover more about our Maker and his work? Doesn’t the Lord charge us to use the gifts He gave us? And don’t we know God and each other through our works? Whether it is through service, or science, or simple obedience, God has blessed us with many avenues for approaching Him, and I, for one, am grateful for them all. May each of us reach beyond our philosophies to seek, and ultimately find, our God.Jan Dunlap

Is the medium the message or the messenger? (Or how I got started writing a supernatural thriller series...)

I just finished reading Jodi Picoult's "Leaving Time," and once again, I am blown away by this author's creative depth. I keep thinking she can't get better, but with every book, she does!
The fact that one of her primary narrators is a psychic who is a medium particularly caught my attention, since my new book releasing in June also has a character who is a medium. Part of the story's thesis is that heaven exists, and the presence/ability of mediums proves the existence of life after death since they communicate with those we know as 'dead' on earth.
This idea had been nagging at me for years before I began writing this new book - titled "Archangels Book I: Heaven's Gate". More than 10 years ago, my son Tom took a course in college that required him to read the book "The AfterLife Experiments"; his instructor was the author! Tom told me I had to read it, and I did, and it lit explosions in my imagination about the spiritual realm and life after death. I suppose that was the seed of my book, along with my own fascination with string theory from quantum physics, which predicts 11 dimensions to reality. A whole lot of research and reading later, I felt compelled to write "Heaven's Gate" as I sought for myself a synthesis of faith and science; I believe they are two sides to God's own coin, instead of opposing endeavors.
Of course, I realized that a lot of Christians aren't going to agree with the theology that underlies my books, but then again, many Christians and non-Christians alike are going to find (I hope!) much to reflect on in the course of my Archangels series, which takes different fields of science and interprets them as the work of God. As my fictional medium, the devout Khristina Tupikova, reminds physicist Dr. Michael Carilion in Book I with a quote from Hamlet: "There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio,
Than are dreamt of in your philosophy."
And so, in "Heaven's Gate," Khristina and Michael push the boundaries of what we think we know...

Best excuse I never got: “I was abducted by aliens”

My brother Bob took this photo on a recent trip to Roswell. He was NOT abducted in this hotel elevator, however.

I’m in my last semester of teaching English online for New Mexico Junior College and I have to share with you the best-ever memo I found in my inbox the other day from our dean’s administrative assistant.

“Now is a good time to compare your Canvas roster to the one in Banner (both if you have a second eight week class and to double check on your full term classes) to make sure there are no discrepancies.  It is a good idea to check several times over the semester to make sure a student hasn’t been abducted.”

I emailed back and asked if students being abducted was a common problem, it being New Mexico, which (in case you didn’t know) is home to the UFO Festival every year.

The reply was no, the admin just wanted to know if all the faculty members were reading the memos they got.

(Right. Talk about a great save.)

What a great line to use on students at the first of a new semester, though – “I will check regularly during the term to make sure none of you are abducted.”

If only I’d heard that line the first semester I taught instead of the last…

(Big news – My retooled website is scheduled to go live tomorrow and I’m SO excited! Please let me know what you think of it, and I hope to connect with more of you on Facebook, Pinterest, and Twitter very soon! 2014 is going to be a wild and crazy year for me, so I hope you’ll come along for the ride!)

Countdown is on for “Saved By Gracie”

My life is going to the dogs – or dog, to be exact – in six months! I’m excited to share with you the cover for “Saved by Gracie”, my humorous memoir of how I learned to live with our dog Gracie grace-fully in the last two years.

Definitely not ‘gracefully’, as anyone who sees me climbing through weeds to clean up after her can attest…

I’m planning on lots of book events, signings, dog-walks, and whatever comes our way to promote the book for my publisher Authentic Publishers, and it will all be on my redesigned website, which is taking shape even as I write.

And no, the Birder Murders aren’t falling by the wayside – I’m currently finishing up book #6, titled “Swift Justice,” which is slated for publication September 2014. So now I can say that my mysteries are for the birds, but my life is going to the dog!

 

 

Changes are afoot, at hand, and…what is with all the body parts, anyway?

Now that my website is five years old, it’s time for something new!

Actually, four new things:

1. My website is getting a redesign this month, and I can’t wait to share it with you!

2. My first book trailer is almost ready, and you’ll see it here first.

3. I’m going to start doing two e-mail newsletters a year for my readers. There will be updates about new books, pre-release sneak previews, pictures, funny stuff and more (maybe some of Luce’s mouthwatering recipes, even!). If you want to be on the emailing list, please drop me an email on the contact page here and title it “I’m in!” Everyone who subscribes will get …a free newsletter!

Whoopee.

And I will draw one winner from everyone who subscribes by Nov. 1 to receive a special gift: Bird Bingo! So do it right now before you leave the site!

4. I’m going to take up skydiving! (Just kidding, but I could only think of 3 things, so I had to make one up.)

Time for birthday cake…

Forget the Deathstar – it’s the PURSE!

This is the problem with the internet – you find out all kinds of information you’d really rather not have.

Like about the crocodile that was under the guy’s bed.

There’s a nightmare or two.

Or twerking.

Eeewww.

But this one has got me shopping for a hazmat suit: my purse is full of E. coli, poisonous bacteria, and a plethora of other vile, potentially even deadly, germs. Thank-you, Yahoo news.

Or I could just get rid of the purse, I guess. Do I need to find a toxic waste disposal unit or will an incinerator do?

I bet I can find out on the internet, don’t you think?

 

 

 

It’s a dog’s life for this author

http://www.everystockphoto.com

I always thought being an author would be glamorous, but since I’ve become an author, I’ve found that’s not always the case.

Actually, it’s rarely glamorous.

Sometimes it’s downright dirty.

Here’s the dirt:

Last week I took my dog Gracie out to our local dog park to do a photo shoot for the cover of Saved by Gracie, my humorous memoir of how she’s helped me overcome a host of anxieties.  The book will be published next spring by Authentic Publishers, so we needed to move quickly on getting the cover done.

Our photographer, Justin, met us in the early morning at the park – the skies blue, the leaves bright green, and the thigh-high prairie grasses shining with dew.

As in a lot of dew.

As in so much dew, my jeans were soaked by about the fifth run through the grasses with Gracie.

“Now run back this way,” Justin called out to us.

Again, I ran through the grasses, calling to Gracie, trying to position her so Justin could get the action shot he was looking for.

Gracie, however, finally put her paws down.  She sat on the trail and watched me do the running instead.

I imagined she was thinking “What the heck is wrong with Jan? We run the trail AROUND the park, not through the same forty feet of it back and forth, back and forth. Geez, I hope she’s not dangerous.”

After a few more passes, flapping my arms at Gracie, trying to jolly her up into running, I realized she was done.

I also realized I looked like an idiot, jumping in the grasses and calling “let’s run! come get me!”

“I think she’s tired,” I panted to Justin, walking over to him and trying to catch my breath.

“Let’s try some shots of the two of you,” he suggested. “Over here, with this tree in the background.”

I kneeled in the grass next to Gracie, only it wasn’t grass. It was wet dirt. As in mud.

“Put your arms around her,” Justin instructed.

I did, and she immediately turned to lick my face and rub her wet coat against my sweater.

My favorite sweater.

I looked down at the mud now ground into the fabric and whispered to Gracie that if she’d ruined my sweater, it was coming out of her treat budget.

“Now lay down next to her,” Justin said, clicking away.

I obeyed.

Good Jan, I thought. Good human.

Gracie immediately rolled on her back in delight. One of her very favorite things is to roll in the grass, and if it’s actually mud, that’s even better. And to have her human right there with her in the mud, well, a dog’s life just doesn’t get any better than that.

My authoring days have gone to the dogs…

Stylin’ at the dermatologist’s office

It’s time for my annual full-body skin cancer check.

Oh, joy.

I walk into the exam room and the nurse hands me a paper gown.

“Take everything off except your panties, and put this on, opening to the back.”

She leaves, and I follow the directions. As I pull on the gown, though, I accidentally rip it partway down the front. I clearly don’t know my own strength, nor can I tell which end is up on the paper gown. Now I have a deep split neckline. I momentarily wonder if I should hunt through the drawers for tape so I can tape the split back together and retain some modesty.

Then I do a mental head-slap.

Idiot. The doctor’s going to inspect your whole body. She’s not going to be offended if some of your chest is already exposed. It’s not like she’s never seen bare skin before. Including yours.

True. My little inner voice isn’t finished yet, however.

Besides which, you gave birth over the years to five children in rooms filled with doctors, nurses, interns, residents, baby monitor technicians, and electricians. (Actually, I’m not sure about the electricians, but I do remember that during one of the labors, the lights in the room weren’t working properly and someone came in to fix them, and I doubt it was my obstetrician. I’m also pretty sure a cafeteria volunteer brought me a cup of ice chips once, but she didn’t stick around when I started swearing at my husband. Back to the little voice in my head…) Any modesty you had was gone about three decades ago, so just get over it.

I look down at the torn neckline and decide I’m making a fashion statement, so I don’t go hunting for tape.

I do look for a pen, though, because I suddenly realize I should have circled every spot on my skin that I’m concerned about, and I don’t want to forget to ask the doctor about them. Given that I have hypochondriac tendencies, I realize that I will be covered in small circles, and I debate whether or not to use two colors of pens (or markers, if I can find any) to help the doctor more readily focus on each spot.

Maybe I could color-code my circles depending on how concerned I am – green for “I noticed this one”; blue for “I’m disturbed about this one”; and red for “I’m PANICKING right now!”

Before I find any pens (I suspiciously wonder if there’s a reason there are no marking implements in the room), the doctor walks in and checks me over. I point to my areas of concern and she is unimpressed, except for one small area near my collarbone. The nurse gives me a little shot to numb the area and my doctor takes a scraping of the skin.

“We’ll get back to you within the week,” she says.

“Okay,” I reply, knowing I might have to make a return visit. If I do, though, I won’t have to put on the paper gown, since my collarbone is easy to access, and all I’ll need is a bandaid for coverage afterwards.

Thank goodness.

A woman can only make so many fashion statements, you know.

I wonder if I have any of those Batman bandaids left at home…or the SpongeBob SquarePants ones…

 

Hollywood and personal hygiene

www.fanpop.com

I love how excited our cat gets when I open a fresh can of cat food. She comes running into the kitchen, her tail straight up, her little cat voice calling out loud and clear, affection and love pouring off of her in waves. She’s energized, alert and ready to take on the world.

Ah yes, if a new can of cat food is being opened, it’s a good day.

It kind of reminds me of that warrior thing you see in movies. Like Braveheart, or the Lord of the Rings trilogy, or any other film spectacle of ancient war. It’s sunrise, all these manly men are gearing up their horses to ride into battle and they give each other the secret handshake and code, and then they say: “It’s a good day to die.”

Talk about enthusiasm.

Although, considering that the outcome of a ‘good day to die’ might actually be dying, I have to wonder what a ‘bad day to die’ looks like. Is it raining? Did the morning newspaper not come? Did the coffeemaker not come on even though it was preset? What, exactly, makes a particular day a good day to die for these battle-hardened warriors?

And what about the manly men who, even though others think it’s a good day to die, disagree? Do they wake up, look out at the sunrise, and decide they’d rather sleep in? Do they throw a cloak over their big manly chests, stumble out to the horses and tell their companions, “You go on. It’s not such a good day to die for me. Let me know how it goes.”

I can just imagine the rest of that conversation.

“Wait a minute, buddy. We decided last night that today was the day. We took a vote, remember?”

“Yeah, I know, but then I drank too much ale around the campfire, had a lousy night sleeping on the ground, and this morning I’ve got a hangover that’s killing me. It’s just not a good day to die for me.”

“So exactly when IS a good day for you? Are we going to have to work it into your schedule, or what? ‘Oh, sorry, next Tuesday is already booked – I’m getting my swords reforged. Oh, sorry, my mother-in-law’s birthday is Friday and I promised the little woman we’d go this year.’ What do you think this is, a tea party? We’ve got everyone assembled here, just waiting to go out and massacre our enemies, and for you, it’s not a good day to die?”

“Oh, all right. Give me a few minutes to wash up, groom my horse, put on my armor, and then I’ll go. It’s not a good day to die for me, but heaven forbid I ruin everyone’s plans. Geez.”

They never show that part in those movies, though. The other thing they never show is good personal hygiene. All those warriors look like they could really use a bath. Their hair is stringy, their faces caked with dirt, their arms covered with mud. I can’t even begin to imagine how much grime is under their fingernails. The very idea makes me shudder in disgust.

Yes, I know, personal cleanliness was not a priority when Braveheart and friends were camping out in the wilds waiting to go to war, and I also realize they didn’t have the convenience of antiseptic hand gel that we have in our modern times. But in the movies, all these manly men could at least go jump in a stream and clean up a little, couldn’t they? I mean, really, how hard would it be for the filmmakers to just hose the whole cast down now and then, and have someone say in a scripted line, “aye, that dip in the river felt good, didn’t it? Now I’m really ready to ride out to war.”

Then maybe I could watch one of those movies without sitting there thinking, “Man, these guys really need a bath. I wish they’d go wash their hair first.”

Seriously, my cat has better grooming than these guys.

Whether it’s a good day or not.

Off the leash (and out of my mind)

http://creativecommons.org/licenses/b...

It’s gotten to the point where I need a checklist for taking our dog Gracie to the off-leash park.

Park pass? Check.

Ball cap? Check.

Sunglasses? Check.

Car keys? Check.

Clean-up bags? Check.

Filled water jug and bowl? Check.

Leash? Check.

Driver’s license? Check. Dog? Check. Short-term memory?

Short-term memory?

Where was I going?

Oh, yeah. The dog park.

 

This morning, because it was so hot, we swung by the lake after the dog park. I wanted Gracie to get a cooling swim, which she did. Except that I put the leash back on her when we left the dog park, and forgot to remove it before she jumped in the water.

She was doing fine until she saw the leash trailing behind her in the water. It must have looked deadly, because she yelped and scampered out of the lake. I caught up to her and detached the soaked leash.

Then I put the leash across the top of the car to dry out while she swam some more, which at the time, I knew full well was stupid, because sure enough, I forgot it was on the roof when we drove away from the lake. Luckily, the leash banged the back window as it flew off the car, so I realized my mistake.  I hit the brakes, saw the leash laying on the road behind me, got out, grabbed the leash, and hopped back in.

“Good work,” I told myself. I left nothing behind…this time.

It reminded me of the crazy day twenty years ago when I took two toddlers and an infant with me to pick up my computer after it had been repaired. With my two toddlers holding on to the stroller that contained the baby, I pushed the stroller with one hand and balanced the computer on my hip as we walked back to the mini-van.

I put the computer on the curb and slid open the back passenger seat door so my two mobile children could climb in.  I strapped the baby into the infant seat in the middle row, then strapped in his brother beside him. I climbed partially into the van to check the seatbelt on my daughter in the back. It was secure. I backed myself out, collapsed the stroller, stashed it on the floor next to the baby, shut the door, walked around the car to get in the driver’s seat, and drove home.

It wasn’t till I got home that I remembered I’d forgotten to put the repaired computer into the car.

When my husband came home from work that night, I began my tale with the good news first.

“I didn’t leave one of the kids on the curb at the computer store,” I said…