Margaret McSweeney's Blog, page 33

The Gift of Prayer

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This Mother’s Day marks the one year anniversary of my breast cancer diagnosis or as I call it “my unexpected lump in the road”. With my surgery and radiation treatments behind me, I am so grateful to leave the past behind me and embrace each day ahead. Thank you for your prayers during this time. God heard and healed.

What a delightful blessing to continue to see how God is growing the community of Pearl Girls to connect us in our grit and encourage us with His grace. Thank you for being a special part of this community. As you know, all the proceeds from the Pearl Girls books go in full to help fund a safe house in the Chicago suburbs for Wings www.wingsprogram.com and to build wells for school children in Africa through Hands of Hope www.handsofhopeonline.org

As many of you celebrate Mother’s Day, I want to encourage you. Even though some days feel impossible, God will give you the strength to parent. As you rush from one place to another, remember to take the time to pray. Prayer is one of the most effective ways to parent. My mother was such an inspirational prayer warrior. Engraved on her tombstone is “Pray without ceasing” 1 Thessalonians 5:17. In my latest book Aftermath: Growing in Grace through Grief, I write about the amazing ways in which God ultimately answered my mother’s prayers for my brother Randy who struggled for decades with addiction.

This Mother’s Day, I encourage everyone to give the gift of prayer! Take a moment to thank God for the blessings in life and ask him to guide you. Also pray for others — that is called intercessory prayer. My mother describes this so beautifully in one of her poems:

The Invisible Seesaw

I felt someone prayed for me,

For there came an inner awareness

That someone cared enough to send through God

Remembrance of my heavy burden and special need of Him.

It was as if God’s mercy

Transformed that prayer into an invisible seesaw

Which lifted me while the weight of my burden

Rested briefly on the other end.

And with the lightened load, my tenseness thawed in the warm therapy of love and care

And new strength came now that I was more relaxed and trusting.

I knew that somewhere someone had prayed for me.*

Today you can make a difference in your life and in someone else ‘s life by just praying. What a wonderful gift to give. Share a prayer!

How has God answered prayers in your life?

*Carolyn Rhea, My Heart Kneels Too (New York:Grosset & Dunlap, 1965), 86. (Reverted rights to Carolyn Rhea)

Sometimes I Don’t Get Mothers

Sometimes I don’t get mothers. And yes, that includes me too. We are a complex bunch and sometimes we confuse me.

My oldest is graduating high school on May 30th. I’m so proud of her. She’ll be commuting for her first year. Part of me wants to drive her there everyday. I mean that way I can make sure she’s not late and quiz her about being ready for class and if she has a test and if she studied for it. Plus I’ve been driving longer and won’t take risks she might with driving so she’s more likely to get there in one piece. Less worrying for me.

But that’s illogical for several reasons. First, I despise being the chauffeur. I am looking forward to not having to drive her places all the time. I can get some time back in my schedule. Second, she’ll be in college. If she was going away this year I’d not be escorting her to class. Why should that change just because she’ll still be living just down the hall? And an accident can happen whether I’m driving or she’s driving. Aren’t I supposed to entrust her into Gods hands? She does belong to Him after all.

My youngest got herself a job. When she gets her paycheck, it’s hers. She has her own ideas about what she wants to do with it. Well, there are some parental limitations, but for the most part, she makes the decisions about her money. Part of me wants to write down what should be done with the money and demand she follow that plan. After all, I’m older and wiser. I’ve already made many money mistakes and I can help her avoid doing that same.

This too is illogical. First, I can write down whatever plan I want but at the end of the day she worked for the money. I’ve got some influence but I don’t think it’s okay for me to just run roughshod over her about her hard-earned money. And even though I’ve made some mistakes, that doesn’t mean she’ll make the same ones. Or any for that matter. Anyway, one of the best way to learn is from mistakes.

I wonder if momma birds struggle with wanting an empty nest but not wanting to see the babies leave? Because it is this precise thing that makes me not get mothers sometimes! As a mom I want to still protect and shield my girls. I’ve talked to other moms who feel the same way. We want them to grow up and be wonderful people but we also want to keep them with us, “safe and sound”. But isn’t one of the purposes in parenting to raise young adults who can think through a situation, weigh options and consequences and then make a choice? Shouldn’t one of our goals be to raise young adults who can be responsible, intelligent and independent. Aren’t I, aren’t we, like the momma birds whose job is to nurture their baby birds and then teach them to fly, leave her nest and then have faith they’ll succeed at making their own?

As I watch my teenage girls begin to spread their wings to fly, I hope I can focus on being thankful they actually paid attention to some of their flight lessons. I hope I see them applying those lessons and beginning to soar. As much as the fear of not knowing exactly what their future holds scares me, I just refuse to let it drive me to holding on too tight and too long. After all, they can’t be independent if they’re never allowed to test their wings. I have adopted following verse to help me through this season in motherhood. Feel free to do the same. “Train a child in the way he should go, and when he is old he will not turn from it.” (Proverbs 22:6 NIV)

Grateful Life Doesn’t Always Go as Planned | Deborah Raney

Oh, how grateful I am that life doesn’t always go as I planned it. I’m a very creative person, but I could never have come up with the things God has brought about in my life. Never. God’s plans are always infinitely better than my own.

For starters, I wanted twelve kids. What was I thinking? God gave us three, and most days, three seemed like 12. Then when those three were 14, 10 and 8, God gave us a baby. We call her our “oops baby” but we know better. There’s nothing “oopsy” about her. And she’s been the joy of our lives—as have her sister and brothers.

The biggest plan of mine that God thwarted was my plan that my sweet husband would work at his job until a ripe, ripe old age and that we would always have his nice salary and a decent savings account to rely on. Just over four years ago—just as that oops baby was headed to college—my husband came home from work at ten o’clock one morning (never a good thing) and informed me that he’d been laid off from his job after 25 faithful years with the company. Ken took me in his arms and said, “God’s been taking care of us for 35 years of marriage. . .there’s no reason to think He’s going to stop now.” I believed that. What I didn’t believe was that my husband would have the audacity to tell me he didn’t plan to look for another job, but instead he thought God was leading him to create the job of his dreams by starting his own business. Was he crazy? And how come God didn’t tell ME?

We struggled mightily with this disagreement. Biggest struggle of our marriage in 35 years. Finally I decided I couldn’t fight my husband, let alone God and my husband in tandem. So I said, “whatever, Lord.” (And yes, I mean that snarky teenage version of “whatever.”) The story is too long to tell in a blog, but let me just skip over the part where I was a whiny, unsupportive brat of a wife, and tell you the ending. . .or the ending so far. Who knows what else God has up His sleeve!

Ken’s graphic design business, Clash Creative, has so much work he can barely keep up. We have managed to pay every bill on time and in full. In the meantime, because we both work from home now, and make our own hours, Ken is free to travel with me. He’s even started teaching workshops at several writers conferences, so we now go on 5 or 6 most-expenses-paid “vacations” every year and enjoy our time together immensely. Yes, they are working vacations, but still. . .

Just after Christmas last year, God’s plan unfolded with a move for us. We sold our home (in a bidding war!) and bought a house in the city that’s perfect for us—and closer to our kids and extended family; closer to the airport (and four minutes from Starbucks!) This farmer’s daughter small-town girl never would have planned to be a city girl. And yet, I love it!

But beyond those plans, God had some even better ones. That I would, through the angst of these life-changing events, come to trust in Him with a depth I never could have plumbed on my own. That Ken and I would have found a new intimacy in our marriage for having gone through these tough times. That I would have grown more sensitive to the needs of others who are walking where we’ve walked. That our story would serve as an encouragement to others. That I would learn to be content with far, far less—and even then, we live in luxury compared to most of the world.

I know my heart well enough to know that I’ll probably fail to trust God’s plans again, probably sooner than I even dream. But I’ve grown in Him so that even when I fail, I’ve learned to come running back to His arms far quicker than I used to. And His arms are a wonderful place to be.

DEBORAH RANEY’s first novel, A Vow to Cherish, inspired the World Wide Pictures film of the same title and launched her writing career after 20 happy years as a stay-at-home mom. Her books have won numerous awards including the RITA, National Readers Choice Award, HOLT Medallion, the Carol Award, and have twice been Christy Award finalists. Deb and her husband, Ken Raney, enjoy life in Kansas, but also love traveling together to teach at conferences, and to visit four children and four small grandchildren who all live much too far away. Visit Deb on the Web at www.deborahraney.com, Twitter, Facebook, Blog

Who Is Your Ray of Light? | Shelley Shepard Gray

Years ago, long before I published my first novel, I went to the Romance Writers of America Conference. I didn’t know much about the publishing industry or about writing. All I knew was that I really wanted to be a published writer one day. I had scheduled some agent and editor appointments. I had circled all the workshops I planned to go to. But I was still there by myself, and didn‘t know anyone. So I volunteered to help at the workshop desk every day.

I didn’t know it at the time, but this was the absolutely right thing to do. I met other volunteers, kept busy with all kinds of tasks, and basically got to see how the conference was run-the workshop desk was right in the middle of it all. I also met everyone who stopped by and asked for help or directions.

For a long-time reader-want-to-be-writer, this was amazing. I met all kinds of famous authors as they stepped forward to get their packets for workshops they were presenting.

And then, on the fourth day, I met Mary Balogh. The Mary Balogh, aka, my favorite author. Mary is from Wales, lives in Canada, and has a very proper British accent. Years ago she wrote Signet Regency Romances, and I fell in love with the settings and stories she created. Since then I think I’ve bought every book she’s written. Anyway, Ms. Balogh stopped by the workshop desk to ask where the bathroom was. I took one look at her nametag and became star struck.

Instead of answering her question and letting her go on her way, I began to tell her about how much I loved her books. She looked delighted, said thank you, and handed me a bookmark.

That was my cue to leave her alone, right?

Oh, no. I proceeded to tell her how I’d combed used bookstores looking for her books that were out of print. I told her which of her books were my favorites, and then decided to tell her all about my favorite characters in those books. Because, well, why wouldn’t she want to hear about that?

Once again, she very sweetly thanked me, dug in her tote bag, and gave me a pen.

And still I gushed. By the time she finally left the workshop desk, I had a leather bookmark too…one that she signed right in front of me. I was grinning like a fool. Poor Ms. Balogh was probably making a mental note to Avoid Shelley At All Costs for the rest of the week!

I’ve saved those bookmarks all this time, just like I’ve cherished that memory. What’s funny is I probably remember more about that conference than the 10 or 12 conferences I’ve attended since. It was such an exciting and scary time for me. I had a hope and a dream and absolutely no idea if it was ever going to come true. All I knew was that I had to try.

I thought about that chance meeting with Mary (yes, in my mind we’re on a first name basis now) a lot when I was writing Ray of Light, the second book in my Days of Redemption series. In the novel, the characters realize that there are many rays of hope and promise in their lives. Some come from the Lord. Others? From family members…and yes, even the kindness of a stranger. Meeting Mary Balogh made a huge impression on me. She was thankful that I liked her books. She was patient while I took up her time. And most of all, she made me think that maybe-just maybe-one day I, too, could be a published author.

So, I guess my hope is that we each realize that a kind smile or a little bit of patience will always be remembered…and sometimes it might make all the difference in the world to someone. For whom are you a Ray of Light? Who has been a Ray of Light for you?

With my blessings to you.

Shelley Shepard Gray

Shelley Shepard Gray is the New York Times and USA Today bestselling author of the “Sisters of the Heart”, “Seasons of Sugarcreek”, “Secrets of Crittenden County”, and Families of Honor series. She lives in southern Ohio, where she writes full-time, bakes too much, and can often be found walking her dachshunds on her town’s bike trail.

Get A Life!

I’m often tempted to say that!

• When things aren’t going my way I think, “Wow, if I could just get a life!”

• When frustrated, I sometimes say, “This is life?”

• As a young mom changing diapers I’d catch myself thinking, “This is not what I thought children were going to be all about. I wonder when I’ll get a life.”

• When our son wasn’t developing on schedule and we’d be doing the same therapy for the trillionth time, I’d sometimes say, “I just wish someday he’d get this, and get a life.”

• When others don’t get in line with our wishes we sometime say, “I wish they would get a life!”

I guess it’s true that the grass is greener in someone else’s yard, but do you ever feel stuck in yours?

It would be such fun to be able to pick up and take off – to the other side of town for dinner – without calling on someone to care for our 29 year old with special needs. It’s not an easy task to find someone to “fill that bill.” A teenage (boy or girl) would not be appropriate to watch our grown son. A “service” to bring a stranger to care for our son (who would not be able to tell us if anything went wrong), is not a comfortable option.

I’d love to be able to travel with my husband like we had dreamed when we were younger. But if a night out is hard to accomplish, a week is not much easier. And it would be such a treat to say “yes” to friends who are going to see a movie or go to a play – last minute!

Oh…If I could just “Get a LIFE!”

But, while the grass is often greener on the other side, I face the fact that life is different for us than for some of those around us and that we have choices to make. And for us (and you) choosing what we feel is right means choosing what we value. It’s that simple and it’s that complicated.

In our society we want to fix things so life is not interrupted or inconvenienced. If we could take a pill to make everything perfect, we would. Because no pill can cure us from challenges and struggles, we have to decide what we value because that’s how we’ll decide what we’ll do. For us the reality and choice was valuing and caring for our son, and the knowledge that doing so would last a lifetime-either his or ours!

So how does that look today? As a woman who now has grown children and one grandchild, I thought I’d have outgrown this saying, but sometimes I find myself seeing others in retirement doing what we’d hoped, and hear myself saying, “I wish I could get a life!” But on good days – and most of them are, I realize that all of us have times when things don’t go our way, and we all have to “grow up” and learn to go with the flow. I occasionally get frustrated, or feel sorry for myself, but see many of my friends do too – their frustrations are just a different flavor. And, we all look back on those mundane days of child rearing – doing the same thing over and over again with much fondness, and sometimes with a secret wish to return to or re-do a few of them!

I realize I do have a life. It’s one that includes caring for our son who has brought so much to our marriage, family, and life. It’s about being tethered to home more than we thought we would, but being able to look out over our beautiful wooded back yard and say, “I’m pretending to be on vacation today,” while reading a book and sipping my Café Vienna, or actually traveling somewhere but keeping in mind the pace will be very slow with Joey at our side. It’s about being thankful for a sweet handful of family and friends who stand in the gap to care for our son when we have opportunities to speak at conferences or for ministry. It’s about recognizing we’ve met wonderful people that we wouldn’t have, had Joey not been given to us. It’s a romantic dinner for 3 which still means I don’t have to cook!

Yes, I’ve come to realize that while we all want to “get a life,” we wind up finding that the phrase just needs to be reworked: “This IS our life!”And it’s really pretty special.

Three Keys to a Mom’s Heart

AFFECTION

“. . . let us not love with words or tongue but with actions and in truth” (1 John 3:18).

Everyone craves affection: children, animals, adults––especially the elderly who may feel overlooked and misunderstood. One of the most important things we can do to honor our mothers is to show affection. My friend Ruth often mentions her regret over her visits to her mother before she died. “I wish I had held her hand more often. She was nearly blind and deaf during the final weeks. My touch would have meant so much––even more than my words.”

Even when it feels unnatural or awkward to express affection for someone who has been abusive or distant, God can provide the grace we need to take the high road, and to be a vessel of His love. A touch, a kiss, a warm embrace—even for a second––can melt the coldest heart. Ask the Lord for His love and then dispense it freely to your mother and watch it come back to you, if not from her, certainly from God Himself.

ATTENTION

“A cheerful heart is good medicine . . .” (Proverbs 17:22).

I remember when my mother was in a nursing home in California, one of the things she most enjoyed was a little bag of French fries from a nearby fast food restaurant. My sister and I would wheel her across the parking lot and into the side door. She woke up to the fragrance of the sizzling food, and though she couldn’t speak intelligibly anymore she responded well to sensory details—sights, sounds, smells, tastes and touch. She thrived on bits of attention so we did everything we could to keep her going. We massaged her hands with lavender lotion, painted her nails a pretty pink, made sure she enjoyed a shampoo and hair set each week. Small actions that showed her we loved and cared about her even though we could no longer carry on a conversation.

APPRECIATION

“. . . do not despise your mother when she is old” (Proverbs 23:22).

Our mothers also long for two simple words––thank you. For that matter, who doesn’t? We all want to be appreciated for who we are and what we do. Elderly mothers, often feeling unimportant and even useless after years of productive living, crave a few well-chosen words of gratitude for all they did.But if your mother is among those who didn’t do much of anything for you, you can still send her a card with a line or two that tells her you are thankful for the gift of life. Honoring our mothers includes giving thanks. When it’s difficult to muster those words, once again, turn your heart and mind to God and thank Him for giving you life—through your mother.

 

 

Wisdom At Any Age

Help! I can’t do this! My friend Annie needed extra hands last weekend. She had volunteered to teach a knitting class at the school where she works. She thought maybe 6 folks would show up. 13 signed up! I was happy to join them for the morning. I love sharing knit knowledge with anyone.

Annie works at an elementary school. She runs an after school program teaching the kids to knit. They make cat sized mats to donate to the humane society. The kitties get a cozy blanket they can cuddle on in their pen and take to a new home when adopted. It’s the perfect project for little girls. They each get a specific cat to knit for and even visit them at the humane society.

The girls were so excited all year about knitting. They asked Annie if she could teach their moms too. They wanted to be able to knit at home not just at school. The idea was born to have a Saturday class so the moms could join the fun.

Saturday morning we set out bright colored worsted weight yarn and size 10 knitting needles. All the moms and daughters arrived and sat around big tables. Knitting is a very hands-on skill to learn. Individual attention helps get the beginner over the learning curve. But with only 2 teachers and 13 students it would be difficult to get around to everyone quickly.

Annie had a secret weapon. Six-year-old Rosie was already a knitting pro. She was very excited about showing her mom how to knit but a little nervous. Annie assured her, “You know how to knit so well, you can show your mom how to do it. And if you get stuck I’ll be right here to help out.”

Annie and I circulated the room and got others started. The two hours flew by. There was much giggling. A few calls of distress when the yarn got tangled or a new knitter lost her way but everyone picked up the skill. A couple moms were surprised they remembered how to knit. And a few more were surprised by how easy it was to learn.

But the biggest smile of the day was on Wendy, Rosie’s mom. While the little girls went out to play on the jungle gym Wendy came over to say good-bye to Annie and me. “I want to thank you for this morning. Rosie is only 6 and this is the first time she’s been able to teach me something. I will remember this day forever. It was a beautiful gift. Thank you so much.”

I was touched by Wendy’s words. She is a mom who will learn a lot from her daughter over their lives together. For Wendy is open to what Rosie has to offer, even at age 6.

Whatever age you are there are wonderful things you can offer those around you. A baby in a crib smiles up at the world and it is the sweetest offering to a new mom. A teen has a perspective a mother may have lost. An older gal may feel all used up, but there are things she knows that no one else may remember. You see things the way no other person on earth does. From tiny details to big life lessons we all have much to learn from each other. So if you are feeling like you have nothing to offer because of your age, fear not, there is someone who needs the very thing you know. Share it with a smile today.

Blessed Are Those Who Mourn

I’ve heard it said there’s a point in time when we become a parent to our parents. I know this in my head. My heart doesn’t want to accept this role reversal. I’m only too aware that we’re all aging. Years have passed by in a blink. I’m resisting. I want to be the child, not the responsible grown-up.

My parents, in their mid-80s, are both facing health issues. My father was diagnosed with Pick’s Syndrome (a form of dementia) about six years ago. The disease has progressed slowly, but steadily, without compromise. My self-assured dad whom I’ve loved and always counted on is slipping away. I came across a letter he wrote me before dementia took its toll. Dad, I miss you!

Mom has been his primary caregiver and she’s understandably exhausted. Taking care of dad has been grueling. Once there was a season to focus on marriage, children, careers, social events, being part of a church family. Then one day you wake up to a parade of doctor’s appointments, pill-taking, cleaning up incontinence messes and washing soiled linens and clothing. It’s painful to watch your parents struggling. We’ve asked the typical questions: What should we do? How can we help? Is it time for Dad to be in a nursing facility? Lord, please give us wisdom, strength, courage.

My friend Sue lost both her parents during the past two years. She has been a source of comfort and strength. Last weekend, we enjoyed an oasis of rest and refreshment. A new friend I met recently at a writers conference invited me to come visit and bring a friend. So I did. Little did I know how Divinely appointed our weekend would be.

Sue asked if I minded visiting her parents’ grave with her. The cemetery was located in a nearby town. First we stopped at Joanne Fabrics to pick out silk flowers. We found the perfect bouquet of pink azaleas—60% off. Sue commented on how her parents always liked a good bargain. It felt good to laugh.

We stood together looking at the simple headstone with two names carved in granite. A photo of a young obviously-in-love couple made me smile and cry at the same time. I cried for myself, pre-grieving the loss of my parents. But feeling more strength to step into the caring role God has for me in this season of life.

I can do everything through Him who gives me strength. Philippians 4:13

Motherhood and Writing | Sibella Giorello

A dear friend is expecting her first baby, while writing her first novel.

The baby news filled me with joy, the kind that put tears in my eyes. But the news also led me to think about threading that needle known as Motherhood and Writing.

I want my friend to cherish motherhood, and I want her to finish her novel.

With two kids, six years homeschooling, five published novels, and ten-thousand readings of “Mr. Brown Can Moo, Can You?,” I almost feel qualified to offer some advice.

So here’s my humble five-point offering to every mom serving in the happy trenches while trying to write.

1. Don’t quit writing.

There will never — never — be a good time to write. Never. Ever. Stop thinking the world will someday agree with your compulsion to put words on paper. The world doesn’t care. But YOU care and frankly, God cares because God made you a writer.

If that last statement strikes you as pretentious, congratulations. Feel free to pick up your glue-gun and complete all those Martha Stewart projects. You’re not a writer.

Meanwhile, we blessed wretches will continue to comb through our minds, searching for meaning and wrestling with words.

Writers need to write. Need, not want. The same way some birds were designed to fly south every winter whether they feel like it or not, writers were designed to translate thoughts into words. You will know if you’re among that flock if deep down inside, you feel like you might suffer some kind of death if you don’t write. Soul, spirit, emotion. Maybe even physical death. Frank McCourt once said that he wrote “Angela’s Ashes” because if he didn’t, he would “die howling.”

The sooner a writer recognizes this built-in need, the sooner they become a productive person rather than a garden-variety dysfunctional oddity understood by precisely nobody.

2. You’re a mom. Make it manageable.

Motherhood comes first.

Scratch that.

Your husband comes first, even after baby arrives. Then baby. Then writing. Break that order and you’ll build an idol.

But because of where it stands on the totem pole, mom-writing needs manageable goals. When my kids were toddlers and took naps, I placed a note card over my computer that read “500 words an hour.” My daily goal. With a background in newspapers, my five hundred words seemed like a cake walk. Some days I was surprised by 1000 words. Other days I could squeak out six. (Yes, six: “My brain has turned into Jello.”)

But on those difficult days — both in motherhood and writing — remind yourself that this glorious gift of life will only make you a better writer, eventually. If you don’t quit. I guarantee this. With motherhood, a heart grows new chambers of understanding. It only improves your writing.

If you don’t quit.

3. If somebody understands your blessing/affliction, cherish them.

My first novel,”The Stones Cry Out,” arrived like a thunderclap. The story came complete with a cast of characters, a setting, and a plot.

Unfortunately, the timing couldn’t have been worse: I was seven months pregnant with my first child.

But God’s timing doesn’t resemble man’s timing. And the gift seemed perishable. So, despite the gasps of horror from polite ladies who probably had good intentions, I waddled into the FBI’s forensic mineralogy department, asking questions about murder and mayhem.

Only a handful of people understood why I was starting a novel when it looked like my water was about to break. My husband. My dad who was battling stage-four throat cancer. My mom who was also a writer. And an elderly uncle who once attempted to write a novel but quit — he really understood.

The rest of the world treated me as though the novel was a betrayal of the child in my womb.

Fourteen years later, not much has changed. The other day, a homeschool mom asked me in a baffled tone of voice: “Why do you even feel the need to write these books — I mean, are you making a ton of money or something?”

4. You can answer those questions, but it probably won’t help.

Any explanation will make you sound like a televangelist who can’t afford glittery clothes (“God called me”), or just plain weird (“The day doesn’t seem quite real until I write about it.”)

Most people won’t understand. But writers don’t live an either-or existence. They live two lives. Here, and not here. Experiencing life, and imagining it.

Yes, I know. I just described a dual personality.

But as Dorothea Brande writes in her essential little book “Becoming a Writer,” the writer’s double existence is not a bad thing:

A dual personality, to the reader who has a number of half-digested notions about the constitution of the mind, is an unlucky fellow who should be in a psychopathic ward; or, at the happiest, a flighty hysterical creature. Nevertheless, every author is a very fortunate sort of dual personality, and it is this very fact that makes him such a bewildering, tantalizing, irritating figure to the plain man of affairs who flatters himself that he, at least, is all of a piece.

5. All interruptions come from God.

As though stating the case for me, my kids just knocked on my office door. They want pancakes. They want to start their school work. They want me.

And I am happy to go.

Very happy to go.

I can always write about it later.

***

Sibella Giorello grew up in Alaska and majored in geology at Mount Holyoke College. After riding a motorcycle across the country, she worked as a features writer for the Richmond Times-Dispatch.

Her stories have won state and national awards, including two nominations for the Pulitzer Prize. She now lives in Washington state with her husband and sons. Find out more about Sibella at http://sibellagiorello.com.

Mother of Pearl 2013 Winners

We hope you enjoyed the Mother of Pearl blog series. And now the moment you’ve all been waiting for . . .

The winners from this year’s Mother of Pearl:

Victoria Gaudette Brinius – Pearl necklace

Georgia Hatheway Beckman – JOYN India bag

Be sure to join us in December for our 12 Pearls of Christmas blogging series! You’ll be able to post great blog posts on your blog as well as sign up for some wonderful prizes!

Thank you again for entering the contest and to all the authors who tithed their talents! All God’s best to you!