Cathy Bryant's Blog: CatBryant.com ~ Journey Blog, page 96

Do You Need Rest?

"Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. Take My yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For My yoke is easy and My burden is light." ~Matthew 11:28-30 (NIV)



We are a nation of stressed-out, anxious, sleep-deprived people, and the problem is getting worse. If it hasn't already reached epidemic proportions, it will soon. We keep ridiculous schedules, yet we wonder why we feel tired all the time and why we get burned out so frequently.



But there is a solution, and one that has been around for thousands of years. We MUST take time to rest.



This is so important that God instituted a Sabbath for that very purpose. The Hebrew word for Sabbath is SHABÀT, meaning 'cessation,' or 'time of rest.'



By the seventh day God had finished the work He had been doing; so on the seventh day He rested from all His work. And God blessed the seventh day and made it holy, because on it He rested from all the work of creating that He had done.     ~Genesis 2:2-3 (NIV)



Remember the Sabbath day by keeping it holy. Six days you shall labor and do all your work, but the seventh day is a Sabbath to the LORD your God. On it you shall not do any work, neither you, nor your son or daughter, nor your manservant or maidservant, nor your animals, nor the aliens within your gates. For in six days the LORD made the heavens and the earth, the sea, and all that is in them, but He rested on the seventh day. Therefore the LORD blessed the Sabbath day and made it holy.     ~Exodus 20:8-11 (NIV)

If Almighty God rested from His work, should we, the finite and limited creatures that we are, do any less?It is so important to God that we rest, that He made it one of ten commandments. We need to rest from work to refresh and to recharge our physical, mental, emotional, and spiritual batteries. God's laws were given to man as protective boundaries because He loves us. He made us and knows better than anyone our human limitations.

God's rest is still available to us today. When we get world-weary and burdened down, the only solution that will bring true rest is Jesus. Our worldly yokes are hard and heavy. They wear us out and often chafe against our souls. We were never meant to shoulder that kind of stress and busy-ness 24/7. When we let Him, Jesus carries the load with us. What an amazing promise from our amazing Savior!

He who dwells in the shelter of the Most High will rest in the shadow of the Almighty. ~ Psalm 91:1 (NIV)

Father God, thank You for loving us so much that You not only created the Sabbath rest, but also commanded that we keep it. Help us not to impose our man-made regulations on Your law, but to keep the spirit of Your law by taking time to rest. Thank You, Lord, for Jesus, our Savior, who willingly shoulders the load with us, and whose yoke is light and not burdensome. Thank You, Lord, for rest. May we use it to draw near to You, so that we might be better prepared to serve You with our lives.

In Jesus' name we pray, Amen 

Book Giveaway Weekly Winner

The winner of Head in the Clouds by Karen Witemeyer is ... Sandee!



Congratulations! (I'll send you an e-mail later this weekend, Sandee. Please reply with your mailing address, and I'll send you your book.)



Thanks to everyone who participated!



Until Monday ...

FWC: "Lady In Waiting" by Susan Meissner (& Book Giveaway!)

It is time for a FIRST Wild Card Tour book review! If you wish to join the FIRST blog alliance, just click the button. We are a group of reviewers who tour Christian books. A Wild Card post includes a brief bio of the author and a full chapter from each book toured. The reason it is called a FIRST Wild Card Tour is that you never know if the book will be fiction, non~fiction, for young, or for old...or for somewhere in between! Enjoy your free peek into the book!



You never know when I might play a wild card on you!





Today's Wild Card author is:

Susan Meissner

and the book:

Lady In Waiting WaterBrook Press; Original edition (September 7, 2010) ***Special thanks to Cindy Brovsky of WaterBrook Press, a division of Random House, Inc., for sending me a review copy.***



ABOUT THE AUTHOR:





Susan Meissner has spent her lifetime as a writer, starting with her first poem at the age of four. She is the award-winning author of The Shape of Mercy, White Picket Fences, and many other novels. When she's not writing, she directs the small groups and connection ministries at her San Diego church. She and her pastor husband are the parents of four young adults.





Visit the author's website.



Product Details:



List Price: $13.99

Paperback: 352 pages

Publisher: WaterBrook Press; Original edition (September 7, 2010)

Language: English

ISBN-10: 0307458830

ISBN-13: 978-0307458834



AND NOW...THE FIRST CHAPTER:





Jane



Upper West Side, Manhattan



ONE



The mantle clock was exquisite even though its hands rested in silence at twenty minutes past two.



Carved—near as I could tell—from a single piece of mahogany, its glimmering patina looked warm to the touch. Rosebuds etched into the swirls of wood grain flanked the sides like two bronzed bridal bouquets. The clock's top was rounded and smooth like the draped head of a Madonna. I ran my palm across the polished surface and it was like touching warm water.



Legend was this clock originally belonged to the young wife of a Southampton doctor and that it stopped keeping time in 1912, the very moment the Titanic sank and its owner became a widow. The grieving woman's only consolation was the clock's apparent prescience of her husband's horrible fate and its kinship with the pain that left her inert in sorrow. She never remarried and she never had the clock fixed.



I bought it sight unseen for my great aunt's antique store, like so many of the items I'd found for the display cases. In the year and half I'd been in charge of the inventory, the best pieces had come from the obscure estate sales that my British friend Emma Downing came upon while tooling around the southeast of England looking for oddities for her costume shop. She found the clock at an estate sale in Felixstowe and the auctioneer, so she told me, had been unimpressed with the clock's sad history. Emma said he'd read the accompanying note about the clock as if reading the rules for rugby.



My mother watched now as I positioned the clock on the lacquered black mantle that rose above a marble fireplace. She held a lead crystal vase of silk daffodils in her hands.



"It should be ticking." She frowned. "People will wonder why it's not ticking." She set the vase down on the hearth and stepped back. Her heels made a clicking sound on the parquet floor beneath our feet. "You know, you probably would've sold it by now if it was working. Did Wilson even look at it? You told me he could fix anything."



I flicked a wisp of fuzz off the clock's face. I hadn't asked the shop's resident and unofficial repairman to fix it. "It wouldn't be the same clock if it was fixed."



"It would be a clock that did what it was supposed to do." My mother leaned in and straightened one of the daffodil blooms.



"This isn't just any clock, Mom." I took a step back too.



My mother folded her arms across the front of her Ann Taylor suit. Pale blue, the color of baby blankets and robins' eggs. Her signature color. "Look, I get all that about the Titanic and the young widow, but you can't prove any of it, Jane," she said. "You could never sell it on that story."



A flicker of sadness wobbled inside me at the thought of parting with the clock. This happens when you work in retail. Sometimes you have a hard time selling what you bought to sell.



"I'm thinking maybe I'll keep it."



"You don't make a profit by hanging onto the inventory." My mother whispered this, but I heard her. She intended for me to hear her. This was her way of saying what she wanted to about her aunt's shop—which she'd inherit when Great Aunt Thea passed—without coming across as interfering.



My mother thinks she tries very hard not to interfere. But it is one of her talents. Interfering when she thinks she's not. It drives my younger sister Leslie nuts.



"Do you want me to take it back to the store?" I asked.



"No! It's perfect for this place. I just wish it were ticking." She nearly pouted.



I reached for the box at my feet that I brought the clock in along with a set of Shakespeare's works, a pair of pewter candlesticks, and a Wedgwood vase. "You could always get a CD of sound effects and run a loop of a ticking clock," I joked.



She turned to me, childlike determination in her eyes. "I wonder how hard it would be to find a CD like that!"



"I was kidding, Mom! Look what you have to work with." I pointed to the simulated stereo system she'd placed into a polished entertainment center behind us. My mother never used real electronics in the houses she staged, although with the clientele she usually worked with—affluent real estate brokers and equally well-off buyers and sellers—she certainly could.



"So I'll bring in a portable player and hide it in the hearth pillows." She shrugged and then turned to the adjoining dining room. A gleaming black dining table had been set with white bone china, pale yellow linen napkins, and mounds of fake chicken salad, mauvey rubber grapes, and plastic croissants and petit fours. An arrangement of pussy willows graced the center of the table. "Do you think the pussy willows are too rustic?" she asked.



She wanted me to say yes so I did.



"I think so, too," she said. "I think we should swap these out for that vase of Gerbera daisies you have on that escritoire in the shop's front window. I don't know what I was thinking when I brought these." She reached for the unlucky pussy willows. "We can put these on the entry table with our business cards."



She turned to me. "You did bring yours this time, didn't you? It's silly for you to go to all this work and then not get any customers out of it." My mother made her way to the entryway with the pussy willows in her hands and intention in her step. I followed her.



This was only the second house I'd helped her stage, and I didn't bring business cards the first time because she hadn't invited me to until we were about to leave. She'd promptly told me then to never go anywhere without business cards. Not even to the ladies room. She'd said it and then waited, like she expected me to take out my BlackBerry and make a note of it.



"I have them right here." I reached into the front pocket of my capris and pulled out a handful of glossy business cards emblazoned with Amsterdam Avenue Antiques and its logo—three As entwined like a Celtic eternity knot. I handed them to her and she placed them in a silver dish next to her own. Sophia Keller Interior Design and Home Staging. The pussy willows actually looked wonderful against the tall jute-colored wall.



"There. That looks better!" she exclaimed as if reading my thoughts. She turned to survey the main floor of the townhouse. The owners had relocated to the Hamptons and were selling off their Manhattan properties to fund a cushy retirement. Half the décor—the books, the vases, the prints—were on loan from Aunt Thea's shop. My mother, who'd been staging real estate for two years, brought me in a few months earlier when she discovered a stately home filled with charming and authentic antiques sold faster than the same home filled with reproductions.



"You and Brad should get out of that teensy apartment on the West Side and buy this place. The owners are practically giving it away."



Her tone suggested she didn't expect me to respond. I easily let the comment evaporate into the sunbeams caressing us. It was a comment for which I had had no response.



My mother's gaze swept across the two large rooms she'd furnished and she frowned when her eyes reached the mantle and the silent clock.



"Well, I'll just have to come back later today," she spoke into the silence. "It's being shown first thing in the morning." She swung back around. "Come on. I'll take you back."



We stepped out into the April sunshine and to her Lexus parked across the street along a line of townhouses just like the one we'd left. As we began to drive away, the stillness in the car thickened, and I fished my cell phone out of my purse to see if I'd missed any calls while we were finishing the house. On the drive over I had a purposeful conversation with Emma about a box of old books she found at a jumble sale in Oxfordshire. That lengthy conversation filled the entire commute from the store on the seven-hundred block of Amsterdam to the townhouse on East Ninth, and I found myself wishing I could somehow repeat that providential circumstance. My mother would ask about Brad if the silence continued. There was no missed call, and I started to probe my brain for something to talk about. I suddenly remembered I hadn't told my mother I'd found a new assistant. I opened my mouth to tell her about Stacy but I was too late.



"So what do you hear from Brad?" she asked cheerfully.



"He's doing fine." The answer flew out of my mouth as if I'd rehearsed it. She looked away from the traffic ahead, blinked at me, and then turned her attention back to the road. A taxi pulled in front of her, and she laid on the horn, pronouncing a curse on all taxi drivers.



"Idiot." She turned to me. "How much longer do you think he will stay in New Hampshire?" Her brow was creased. "You aren't going to try to keep two households going forever, are you?"



I exhaled heavily. "It's a really good job, Mom. And he likes the change of pace and the new responsibilities. It's only been two months."



"Yes, but the inconvenience has to be wearing on you both. It must be quite a hassle maintaining two residences, not to mention the expense, and then all that time away from each other." She paused but only for a moment. "I just don't see why he couldn't have found something similar right here in New York. I mean, don't all big hospitals have the same jobs in radiology? That's what your father told me. And he should know."



"Just because there are similar jobs doesn't mean there are similar vacancies, Mom."



She tapped the steering wheel. "Yes, but your father said . . ."



"I know Dad thinks he might've been able to help Brad find something on Long Island but Brad wanted this job. And no offense, Mom, but the head of environmental services doesn't hire radiologists."



She bristled. I shouldn't have said it. She would repeat that comment to my dad, not to hurt him but to vent her frustration at not having been able to convince me she was right and I was wrong. But it would hurt him anyway.



"I'm sorry, Mom," I added. "Don't tell him I said that, okay? I just really don't want to rehash this again."



But she wasn't done. "Your father has been at that hospital for twenty-seven years. He knows a lot of people." She emphasized the last four words with a pointed stare in my direction.



"I know he does. That's really not what I meant. It's just Brad has always wanted this kind of job. He's working with cancer patients. This really matters to him."



"But the job's in New Hampshire!"



"Well, Connor is in New Hampshire!" It sounded irrelevant even to me to mention the current location of Brad's and my college-age son. Connor had nothing to do with any of this. And he was an hour away from where Brad was anyway.



"And you are here," my mother said evenly. "If Brad wanted out of the city, there are plenty of quieter hospitals right around here. And plenty of sick people for that matter."



There was an undercurrent in her tone, subtle and yet obvious, that assured me we really weren't talking about sick people and hospitals and the miles between Manhattan and Manchester. It was as if she'd guessed what I'd tried to keep from my parents the last eight weeks.



My husband didn't want out of the city.



He just wanted out.





My Review:

If you enjoyed Susan Meissner's The Shape of Mercy, then you will love Lady in Waiting. Following the same structure of parallel stories, one set in the present and the other in the past, Lady in Waiting explores the theme of making decisions.



The present-day story involves Jane Lindsay, a woman whose 22-year-old marriage is crumbling. She discovers a ring in the binding of an old prayer book. Inside the band is a Latin inscription followed by the word Jane. Who did the ring belong to? Her journey to find its original owner takes her back to sixteenth century England, during the reign of the Tudors.



Lady Jane Grey, like Jane Lindsay, is a lady in waiting. Her fate lies in the hands of others, and she becomes a pawn in the midst of political and religious upheaval. The two stories and the two women are joined by the ring, as both discover that even when decisions are ripped from their grasp, they still have a choice and a position of influence.



You don't want to miss this wonderful story. Susan Meissner proves once again that she is the undisputed master of parallel stories. I highly recommend Lady in Waiting.



To enter the giveaway for this book, please leave a comment with a way for me to contact you if you're the winner. The winner will be announced on Friday, October 22. If you are reading this post at Facebook or Goodreads and wish to enter the drawing, you'll need to leave your comment at http://WordVessel.blogspot.com.

Enjoy the First Chapter of "A Path Less Traveled"

In spite of the thousands of winking lights surrounding Trish James, a wedding somehow lost its luster in the wake of death. She nudged her shucked shoes out of the way with her big toe and adjusted the tulle on the wedding arch, the soft net-like fabric billowing beneath her fingertips as she encased the twinkle lights. The church sanctuary, with its white pews, stained-glass windows, and smoky blue carpet, served as the perfect backdrop to her design.



"This wedding must be hard on you after Doc's death." Dani spoke the words as if uncertain she should speak at all.



The ache in Trish's heart started afresh, a wound that never healed, but she pushed it aside with practiced expertise. This wedding wasn't about her. "I'm fine. It's not every day my brother marries the most wonderful woman in the world." She forced a bright smile. "I've never seen Steve so happy." Mom would've loved this wedding.



Her sister-in-law-to-be didn't return the smile. Instead, the area above her clear blue eyes creased. "You sure you're okay?"



"Yep." Trish snipped the word and bent low to snag a sprig of silk ivy, then inserted it in the proper place and blinked away tears. In truth, it would be great to have someone to share her concerns with, but within boundaries—not right before the wedding, not with anyone who lived in Miller's Creek, and definitely not with family members. The last thing she wanted was for them to come to her rescue. She'd told Delaine some of the situation, but her best friend since high school now lived the fast-paced, Austin lifestyle, their conversations limited to when Delaine didn't have something else on her agenda.



"I can't imagine how difficult it is to be both mother and father to Little Bo." Dani lowered her head, blonde ringlets framing her face. "And then trying to start a business on top of everything else."



Oh, no. She wasn't going there. Trish clenched her teeth. Steve had already given her this lecture. With his best brotherly concern, he'd told her she didn't have to be Superwoman. Yeah, right. Try telling that to her empty checkbook and refrigerator. She glanced at Dani, who sat atop the piano railing, swinging her legs. "Are you ready for the big day tomorrow?"



A happy glow wreathed her friend's face. "And the day after, and the day after that. I think I've been getting ready to marry Steve my entire life."



"I'm happy for you both." Though it hurt to speak the words, she meant it. It wasn't their fault her life was in the doldrums.



Dani sprang from her perch and trotted down the steps to view the stage. "You have such a gift, Trish. Everything looks magical."



Trish gazed at the curly willow branches she'd ordered and spray-painted white, now wrapped with tiny sparks of light. The fairy tale forest blanketed the stage and meandered down the side aisles in an aura of enchantment. Once the ribbons and flowers were placed, and candles inserted into globes and nestled among the boughs, her vision would be complete. "I hope it's what you wanted."



"It's better than I could've ever imagined." Dani hurried over and draped an arm across her shoulder. "Once everyone in Miller's Creek see this, you're gonna get loads of business."



A heavy sigh whooshed from her before she could contain it. "From your lips to my bank account."



Dani's eyes clouded. "I don't know how to say this, so I'm just going to say it and get it over with. Are you okay? I mean . . . do you need to borrow money or something?"



No. Yes. Yes. She wasn't okay. She needed money. She needed . . . something. "I'm fine." The lie popped out as she stepped to the box perched on the piano bench. With care she lifted two delicate cracked-glass globes and moved to the candle stands. The words "I'm fine" were her constant mantra these days, like saying them made everything all right. Who was she kidding?



She closed her eyes and reopened them with a slow blink, weary of pretending. But what choice did she have? Her brother's wedding wasn't the time or place to air her personal problems. Besides, she was thirty-two years old, more than old enough to handle life on her own. A glance at her wristwatch sent her pulse on a stampede. Still so much to do to make the decorations perfect. God, please let this bring me business.



Dani plopped back onto the railing. "Is Little Bo doing better?"



How could he be? "Sure, if you don't count the nightmares and barely letting me out of his sight." She omitted the fact that he was a hairsbreadth away from flunking kindergarten, unless she could help him catch up before the school year ended.



"So the psychologist is helping?"



Before Trish could respond, the double white doors at the rear of the church burst open. Incessant rain poured from the April sky and silhouetted a person's form. Dani let out a squeal. "Andy!"



The petite blonde flew down the steps toward her friend.



Trish vaguely remembered the man from the time he'd spent in Miller's Creek during the downtown renovation, though she didn't recall ever having met him. Today he wore a lightweight suit with a loosened necktie, and had an easy-going smile that brightened the room. "Hey, girl. How's the bride?"



Dani looked up at him, her face radiant. "Never better."



"Yeah, I can see that."



She tugged his arm. "Come here. I want you to meet someone."



His loose-limbed gait gave the impression of someone always relaxed, like he'd just returned from a vacation at the beach.



"This is Andy Tyler, my friend and attorney from Dallas. Andy, this is Steve's sister."



Sea-green eyes sparkled. "Well, does Steve's sister have a name?" He jogged up the steps and held out a hand, his smile still bright.



Trish laughed and took his hand. "I'm Trish James. Nice to meet you."



Dani's face took on a crimson hue. "Sorry. Guess my mind is elsewhere."



Andy's gaze rested on Trish's bare feet. "Glad to know you have a name. What about shoes?"



She couldn't help but smile. "I got rid of them hours ago."



The hall door squeaked behind them, and Mama Beth, the mother figure of all of Miller's Creek and Dani's biological mother, bustled into the room. Along with her came the smell of fresh-baked bread wafting from the fellowship hall. Trish could almost taste the melt-in-your-mouth rolls. Maybe she could sneak a few leftovers for her and Bo to nibble on next week.



The older woman gazed around the room. "My goodness, Trish, if this isn't the most gorgeous thing I've ever seen." Mama Beth hugged Andy's neck. "Hi, Andy."



A tender gleam lit his eyes as he wrapped his arms around the older woman's shoulders and kissed her cheek. "Hi, sweet lady." He turned raised eyebrows to Trish. "You did all this?"



She ducked her head and pushed a silky strand of hair behind one ear.



"All of it," gushed Dani, "and wait until you see the fellowship hall."



"Speaking of fellowship hall, I could sure use your help in the kitchen." Mama Beth's voice took on a commanding tone as she scuttled to the door. "We've got enough work to do for this rehearsal dinner to keep an entire army busy."



Dani looked torn. "But I can't leave Trish down here to do all this by herself."



Trish wrestled the wieldy greenery in place, longing to comment that she didn't need help. It would suit her just fine if they'd all go away and leave her alone.



Andy rested his hands on his hips in mock protest, his tan jacket pulled back. "What am I? Pork belly? I'll help Trish. You go help Mama Beth." He held up a hand. "Trust me when I say I'll be more help here than in the kitchen."



"Good point. I've had your cooking." Dani grinned and rushed after Mama Beth. "Y'all know where to find us if you need help."



Andy chuckled and shed his jacket, then laid it across the front pew and turned her way. "What can I do to help?"



Trish mentally checked her to-do list. "I was actually waiting for someone with more muscles than me to come around. There's a box full of candles I need brought in from my Suburban." She pointed toward the side door. "It's out there and it's unlocked."



He gave a mock salute that bounced his sandy curls. "Yes ma'am." Andy's stocky frame loped down the steps and disappeared through the doorway.



Her eyebrows rose as she made her way to the pile of greenery on the front pew. Dani's friend was more handsome than she'd remembered. Trish burrowed through the tangled mess, remembering the promise she'd made Dani to help Andy feel welcome. As if she needed a man to take care of along with her other responsibilities.



The door slammed, Andy's eyes and forehead barely visible above the box he white-knuckled. She ran to him. "Let me help. I know that's heavy. I loaded it this morning."



"Nah, I got it." The words wheezed out. "You loaded this by yourself?"



She ignored the question and pointed to the stage. "Can you bring it up the steps?"



He shot her a you've-got-to-be-kidding glare then labored up the steps, his face red, his breath coming in agonized spurts. As he reached the last step, the toe of his leather lace-ups snagged the extension cord snaking along the edge of the stage.



Trish tried to speak, but the words congregated behind her locked lips.



Andy stumbled, and the box flew from his arms, the candles launching like small missiles. He hit the floor with a thud, the box crash-landing at the base of the first tree.



In slow motion, like carefully-placed dominos, the trees rippled to the floor in a sickening staccato of crashes and breaking glass. As if to punctuate the effect, the white metal archway in the center creaked and leaned, as it teetered, then toppled forward with a bang.



Her mouth hinged open, and her hands flew to her cheeks. All her hard work . . . ruined. In her shock, it took a moment to realize Andy still lay face down on the carpet. She hurried over to him. "Are you all right?"



He pushed himself up on all fours and surveyed the devastation.



Assured he was okay, she moved to the top step and slung herself down. The scene replayed in her mind. A giggle gurgled out, and then burst forth in an almost-maniacal laugh.



Andy chuckled and crawled to sit beside her.



Without warning, her laughter turned to sobs. She covered her face with trembling hands, rage surging at yet another unexpected crying jag. Now she'd never be ready on time. No one would be impressed. No one would want her services. No business. No money.



"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." Andy slid a hand down her arm. "I'll fix it, Trish, I promise. I'm so sorry."



Trish fisted her hands, then straightened her spine and swatted at the tears on her cheeks. "Will you please stop apologizing?" There was no controlling her snappish tone. "For Pete's sake, it was an accident. I'm not gonna sue." She clamped her lips, rose to her feet, and waded through the ruins. Fingers against her lips, she knelt to retrieve shattered slivers of glass from the broken globes. These weren't even paid for.



Andy stooped beside her, his eyes boring a hole into her skull. "Here, let me get that. You start putting things back where you want them."



Trish could only nod at his softly-spoken words, a knot wedged in her windpipe. She lifted a tree into position, the light strands dripping from the branches like a child had thrown them in place. So far her determination to prove herself capable had been met with nothing but industrial-strength resistance.



It's all your fault. The familiar words in Andy's head relentlessly accused, ushering forth memories and ghosts from the past. Trish obviously had spent hours on the wedding decorations, and he'd managed to undo her work with one false step. He forced the finger-pointing voice to the back of his mind and attempted to burn off the chill that now hung in the room. "You live here in Miller's Creek?"



"Yes." She pinched off the word. "My son and I live here. At least for now." She didn't look at him while she maneuvered the lights back on the branches with agile fingers.



Son? Now he remembered. Dani had mentioned something about Steve's sister losing her husband in a freak accident. A cow kick—or was it a horse? And how long ago? "You're leaving town?"



"I don't want to, but we don't always get what we want, do we?"



True, but sometimes what you thought you wanted wasn't what you needed. Andy rose to his feet, his hands cupped to contain the glass shards. "No, we don't. You have a trash can?"



Trish's tawny eyes looked his way. She grabbed an empty box and hurried to him. "Here." She glanced around the stage, her face gloomy, her shoulders slumped. "Are they all broken?"



"Don't know." He dumped the pieces in the box, where they pinged against each other. "Is there some place I can buy replacements?"



She rubbed one arm and shook her head. "No. I had them shipped. I'll drive to Morganville tonight after the rehearsal to see if I can find something that'll work."



The sadness on her face made his breath stick in his throat. He'd been in Miller's Creek less than an hour and had already goofed things up. "I'll go with you and pay for them since it's my fault."



Trish's shoulders rose, then fell. "It's no one's fault. It's just something that happened." Her tone was flat and lifeless. She returned to the branches and hoisted another one back into position.



Just something that happened. A shaft of light streamed through the stained glass windows and rested on her, and she slumped over like she couldn't bear the weight of the world any longer. Was she remembering the accident? He removed a pack of peppermint gum from his shirt pocket and popped a piece in his mouth. Her problems made the mess with Sheila seem trivial in comparison. What could he do to make things better?



She turned her gaze his way. "Dani told me you're engaged. When's the big day?" Trish strung lights along a tree branch. Perfectly.



He shifted his weight to the other leg, then squatted to pluck glass from the carpet. "Uh, we're not . . . I mean . . . well, it's over between us."



She raised her head, and her brown hair shimmered under the light. "I'm sorry. I didn't know."



"Don't be." He stood. "It's for the best."



"How so?"



Andy let out a half-laugh. "Turns out she still had a thing for her ex-boyfriend." Thank the Lord he'd found out in time. A wife would be wonderful, but not the wrong wife.



For a moment she didn't speak, but her face took on a knowing look. "That must've been painful."



He nodded, his lips pressed together. "It was hard, but God can bring good from hurt."



Trish stared at him like she was trying to get a read on him, and then turned back to the lights. "So neither one of us is really in the mood to celebrate—especially a wedding." Her expression matched her cynical tone.



Out in the hallway, muffled voices grew closer. The hall door swung open, and the smell of Mama Beth's home-cooking made his mouth water. A little boy who looked like Trish raced toward them, then stopped, his dark eyes round. "Whoa! What happened here?"



Dani and Mama Beth followed, their mouths ajar. After them came Steve Miller, the mayor of Miller's Creek, and Dani's soon-to-be husband.



"It's all right. Don't worry." Trish rushed to the two women and laid a hand on each of their arms. "It's nothing that can't be fixed, I promise. We just had a little accident."



Andy watched through narrowed eyes at how Trish comforted the two women, when just a few minutes before she'd been in tears. A good way to get a severe case of whiplash.



Steve sauntered toward him, his boots scuffing against the carpet, a friendly grin on his face.



He shook Steve's hand. "How you doing, Mayor?"



The other man's grin expanded as he tucked his fingers in his jean pockets. "I'll be doing a lot better in a couple of days." The little boy streaked by. Lightning fast, Steve untucked one hand and grabbed his arm. "Hold on, tiger. I don't think you have any business up there. Have you met Aunt Dani's friend?"



The boy skewed his lips in a thoughtful pose and shook his head.



"This is my nephew, Bo."



Andy stretched out a palm. "Give me five, buddy."



Bo reared back and delivered a hearty slap.



"Ouch!" Andy pretended to shake off the sting. "Man, I'll bet you can throw a baseball really far with that kind of muscle power."



The boy nodded, his face creased with a grin. "Yep, but I can't catch so good."



"Well," corrected Trish as she came to stand with them. "You can't catch well."



Andy assumed a catcher's position beside him. The little guy had to be missing his daddy. Maybe he could help. "I used to be a catcher, so I can give you some pointers later. Would you like that?"



Bo's eyes lit. "Yeah."



"Yes, sir." Trish's tone held a warning.



"I mean, yes, sir." He looked toward his Mama. "Is it okay if we play catch, Mom?"



She sent Andy a tight-lipped smile, her expression cloaked with reserve, but when she turned toward her son her face softened, and she tousled her son's hair. "Of course, but it might be tomorrow since Mr. Tyler's already promised to help me clean up this mess."



"Almost looks like a tornado touched down in here." Steve rocked back on his heels and jangled the coins in his pocket.



"A tornado named Andy." Trish gave a play-by-play account.



Steve laughed at the story, but Mama Beth and Dani still fussed about like a couple of hens. "That's one way to get out of carrying more boxes." Steve winked. "I'll have to remember that move."



"Hey, look at me!" Little Bo perched on the piano railing, one foot in front of the other, his arms out to balance.



Andy's heart moved to his throat. One wrong step would hurdle him toward the slivers of glass still embedded in the carpet.



All of them raced for the railing, but Andy arrived first. He grabbed Bo by the waist and slung him over one shoulder, amused at the boy's contagious belly laugh. "Come here, buddy, before you fall and hurt that amazing pitching arm."



Trish joined them, eyes wide with panic, her face pale and strained. She gripped Little Bo's arms. "How many times do I have to tell you not to pull stunts like that?" Her voice shook as she knelt, her face inches from his.



The boy said nothing, and his lips stuck out in a pout.



Steve laid a hand on her shoulder. "Sis."



Volumes passed between the brother and sister before Little Bo bolted for the door. Trish raced after him, her dark eyes full of hurt.



Both men faced the door, an awkward silence between them. Steve cleared his throat and turned, his eyes fixed on the floor. "Sorry about that. Trish is . . . uh . . . going through a rough time."



Andy nodded. An understatement if he'd ever heard one. Based on what he'd seen, he was pretty sure not even Steve knew exactly how rough.

BOOK SPOTLIGHT & REVIEW: "Head in the Clouds" by Karen Witemeyer (& Book Giveaway!)

About the Book:



When a recovering romantic goes to work for a handsome ranch owner, her heart's not the only thing in danger!

ADELAIDE PROCTOR longs to find a real-life storybook hero to claim as her own. But when a husband-hunting debacle leaves her humiliated, she interviews for a governess position on a remote Texas sheep ranch and vows to leave her silly romantic yearnings behind.

GIDEON WESTCOTT left his privileged life in England to make a name for himself in America's wool industry, never expecting to end up with a child. To his dismay, five-year-old Isabella hasn't uttered a word since she lost her mother. The unconventionality of the new governess concerns Gideon--and intrigues him at the same time. But he can't afford distractions.

When Isabella's uncle comes to claim the girl--and her inheritance--Gideon and Adelaide must work together to protect Isabella from the man's evil schemes. Soon neither can deny their growing attraction. But after so many heartbreaks, will Adelaide be willing to get her head out of the clouds and put her heart on the line?

About the Author:Karen Witemeyer is a deacon's wife and mother of three who believes the world needs more happily-ever-afters. To that end, she combines her love of bygone eras with her passion for helping women mature in Christ to craft historical romance novels that lift the spirit and nurture the soul.

After growing up in California, Karen moved to Texas to attend Abilene Christian University where she earned bachelor and master's degrees in Psychology. It was also there that she met and married her own Texas hero. He roped her in good, for she has lived in Texas ever since. In fact, she fell so in love with this rugged land of sweeping sunsets and enduring pioneer spirit, that she incorporates it into the pages of her novels, setting her stories in the small towns of a state that burgeoned into greatness in the mid- to late1800s.



Karen is living her dream by writing Christian historical romance novels for Bethany House.



My Review:

I thoroughly enjoyed this marvelous story by new author, Karen Witemeyer. As a Texas gal myself, I especially loved re-living early Texas life in some places that are near and dear to my Texas heart. The story begins in Cisco, Texas, where Adelaide Proctor is finishing up her tenure as an unmarried school teacher. Bound and determined to find happily-ever-after, she chases a man to Ft. Worth, only to be greeted with really bad news.



But God isn't finished with her, and she finds herself applying for the position of governess to a handsome sheep rancher's mute daughter, Isabella. It isn't long before interest between Adelaide and Gideon blossoms into attraction. But just as things start to look up, Isabella's pathological uncle shows up, bent on destroying those that stand in between him and what he wants.



Great suspense, great storytelling, great characters--all in the great state of Texas! I highly recommend Head in the Clouds by Karen Witemeyer.



*DISCLOSURE: This book was provided to me by Bethany House publishers. The opinion expressed is my own.



   

MONDAY MEDITATION: Always Just

"Yet your countrymen say, 'The way of the Lord is not just.' But it is their way that is not just. If a righteous man turns from his righteousness and does evil, he will die for it. And if a wicked man turns away from his wickedness and does what is just and right, he will live by doing so. Yet, O house of Israel, you say, 'The way of the Lord is not just.' But I will judge each of you according to his own ways."

                                                      ~Ezekiel 33:17-20 (NIV)





It doesn't take much living on this planet to recognize that life isn't fair. The Psalms cry out against injustice time and time again, noting that the wicked seem to prosper while the righteous struggle.



But everything God does is just. He's never wrong. Never partial. Never unfair. Only He is qualified to judge the world. To judge us.



Sin brings death. That's the way it's been since the beginning of creation. Adam and Eve's choices made them die spiritually. But the opposite is also true. Righteousness brings life.



We have a choice. We can be righteous and then turn away from righteousness. We can be evil and repent. God knows our hearts, our motives, our intentions. He'll make the final call. And the right call.



Dear Sovereign Lord,



We praise You because You are always just. You see all, know all, and will judge all. Help us, Father, to choose righteousness over evil. When we turn away from righteousness--either willfully or through omission--help us repent and turn back to You. Help us realize and remember that the wages of sin is death. Thank You for the sacrifice made on our behalf to exchange our sins for Your righteousness. May we never take it for granted.



In Jesus' Name,

Amen 

Special Pre-Order Price Now Available on "A Path Less Traveled" (& Giveaway Winner!)

YEE-HAW! I'm on the downhill side of proof edits to A Path Less Traveled!



In celebration of the launch of A Path Less Traveled (Book 2 in the Miller's Creek series), I'm offering a special pre-release price. November 1 is the official launch date, at which time the cost of the book will be $12.99 plus tax and shipping. For every order postmarked before November 1, autographed copies of the book will be $10.00 plus tax and shipping.



So if you'd like an autographed copy of A Path Less Traveled at the special pre-release price, send a check or money order to Cathy Bryant at P.O. Box 971; New Boston, TX 75570. (TOTAL COST: $14)



In November, I'll offer a special bundle price for Texas Roads/A Path Less Traveled (Books 1 & 2 in the series), so keep a look-out!!



Now on to our winner!



The winner of Mirrored Image by A. K. Arenz is ... Jan Marie! (If you happen to read this, Jan Marie, you can send me your mailing address at catbry1 (at) yahoo (dot) com. If not, I'll send you an e-mail later this weekend.)



Thanks to everyone who entered, and a special thanks to A. K. Arenz for her generous giveaway!



Wishing you all a blessed weekend! Until Monday...

Introducing the Characters of "A Path Less Traveled"

As A Path Less Traveled, the second book in the Miller's Creek series, nears completion, I wanted to take this time to introduce you to the characters in the story. I'm a visual person, so I always try to find pics of people who resemble my story people (usually actors and actresses). So here they are!



TRISH JAMES

The heroine of A Path Less Traveled is Trish James. (She's the sister of Mayor Steve Miller, for those of you who have read Book One in the series, Texas Roads .) With an olive complexion and dark hair and eyes, the actress who most closely resembles Trish is Sandra Bullock.



Still reeling from a devastating accident which claimed the life of her husband, she's determined to make a way for her son. A noble goal, but has she stopped to consider that God might have another plan? Trish is an artist and interior designer in the career world, but at her core, she's a mother who is fiercely protective of her son. She would sacrifice anything for him, including her beloved hometown of Miller's Creek.



Her fatal flaw? Pride. Will she realize the price her pride costs those she loves before it's too late?



ANDY TYLER

The hero of A Path Less Traveled is Andy Tyler. (Andy was also in Texas Roads as Dani's attorney and friend. I had so many people say that they liked this character that I had to include him in Book Two. Besides, I kind of liked him myself!) With sandy curls and ocean-colored eyes, the actor who most resembles Andy is Matthew McConaughey.



Andy grew up in small town where he suffered through the brunt of people's judgment against his father. To escape his past, he becomes a high-powered attorney in Dallas. He continues to come up empty-handed in his search for a wife and decides to move his practice to Miller's Creek, where a beautiful widow and her daddy-starved little boy capture his heart.



His fatal flaw? He has a hard time letting go of old hurts and wounds, especially when it concerns his father.



LITTLE BO

Trish's son, Little Bo (named after his grandfather, Bo Miller), plays an integral part in the storyline. With dark hair and eyes like his mother, the actor who most closely resembles Little Bo is Joey Lawrence (many years ago).



Little Bo suffers from PTSD (post-traumatic stress disorder), after witnessing the horrific horse accident that claimed his dad's life. Some of his symptoms are regressive in nature, such as sucking his thumb. He also struggles with being separated from Trish, poor grades in school, anger, volatility, and getting along with other kids.



Trish, in an effort to protect him, keeps him away from horses, but Andy realizes that Bo won't get well until he's able to let go of his fears.



Then, of course, it wouldn't be Miller's Creek without the beloved characters from Texas Roads --Dani, Steve, Mama Beth, Bo Miller, J.C., Coot, and even the town grouch, Otis Thacker. (And to whet your appetite, there's a couple of weddings you won't want to miss!)



I'd love to hear your thoughts!

BOOK SPOTLIGHT: "First Love" by Michelle Sutton

About the Book:



Josiah and Tara had enjoyed acting in their high school plays. They had also been each others first lover... in fact; most of the time they'd spent together had been in Tara's bed. When Josiah became a Christian, he left Tara to go to college and didn't look back.



Four years later, Josiah is back in town when his father has a near-fatal heart attack. When they meet up again they realize how much their separation had hurt each of them. But now Tara is a Christian and is trying to live a life that is pleasing to God.



Josiah wants Tara back, but neither knows how to relate to each other without the physical intimacy they once shared. They are determined to do things right this time, but find it more challenging than they'd anticipated. 





About the Author:

Michelle has been writing for seven years and is a member of ACFW, as well as an avid book reviewer and blogger. She and her husband just celebrated twenty years of marriage and their two sons began college this fall. She is the author of over a dozen novels releasing through 2012.

Author A.K. Arenz Has A New Book Out!

Wow! What an amazing cover! It raises all kinds of questions in your mind, doesn't it? We've been privileged to have author A.K. Arenz with us here at WordVessel before. In case you missed it, here's our interview with her.



Here's the book blurb for Mirrored Image:

Eccentric newspaper columnist Cassandra Chase and by-the-book Detective Jeff McMichaels clash over the murder investigation of Lynette Sandler - a woman who looks eerily like the popular columnist.



The uncanny similarities of the two women's lives and a rash of attacks on Cassie, lead her to the conclusion that she, not Lynette Sandler, was the murderer's original mark.



For McMichaels, the Sandler case becomes more than just a test of his mental acumen. Despite departmental regulations and his own common sense, he finds himself drawn to a woman he was determined to dislike. But can he keep her alive long enough for their relationship to grow?

You can learn more about the author at www.akawriter.com.



Here's a link to purchase Mirrored Image:



Readers, the author has graciously agreed to give away a copy of "Mirrored Image" to one of you (US residents only). Please leave a comment (with a way for me to contact you if you're the winner) to be entered in the drawing. I'll announce the winner in Saturday's post.