Patrick E. Craig's Blog, page 4
February 14, 2014
Dear Jenny: How did you become an Amish writer?
Dear Jenny,
I love your column and look forward to reading it every week. But I have a question. You are the only Amish person I’ve ever seen that actually has a column in a newspaper. Can you share with us how you came to be a writer?
Brenda
Greenville, South Carolina
_________________________
Brenda,
Thank you for your question. Yes it has been a long, strange, journey becoming an author. As you know, I have a book in circulation now which is a compilation of these articles and I am working on my third novel. I haven’t published the novels yet, but I have a friend in the publishing business who presses me every day to let him publish the first one It’s my mama and papa’s story and it’s very personal to me, so I am just waiting on the Lord to see what He has for it.
I first discovered an interest in writing when I was an intern at the Wooster Public Library in 1964 and 1965. I was doing historical research on the Amish in Wayne County and discovered that I really loved the work. So I tried my hand at a little fiction, but after I met and married my husband, Jonathan, I put writing aside for ten years.
Then in the spring of 1978, Jonathan disappeared at sea while he was visiting his parents. I was living in Paradise, Pennsylvania at the time and I was so desolated that I took my daughter, Rachel, and moved back to my mama and papa’s house in Apple Creek, Ohio. It was during this dark and terrible time that the Lord began to speak to me about pouring out my sorrow through writing. I have written about that season in my life and I’d like to share it with you.
________________
Then came a morning when Jenny awoke to a soft dawn that came creeping into her room like a mischievous child, softly kissing her awake with the delicate touch of a rose colored morning. Jenny opened her eyes, and saw the pale colors blushing in the fresh sky. She rose, wrapped a shawl around her shoulders and slipped outside. The day was fresh and clean and warm, and the grass felt cool and damp against her bare feet. Above her head the plum trees were just sending forth the tiny pink buds that would soon burst into brilliant color and paint the world with God’s palette. A single wren twittered its call and stillness lay on the land. Jenny’s heart stirred within her at the unexpected beauty of the morning. An old barn cat came around the side of the house, meowed loudly and bunted her head against Jenny’s leg. Jenny smiled and reached down to scratch the cat behind the ears.
“Hello, Perticket,”
The old cat stayed for a moment, enjoying the attention, and then wandered off. Jenny took a deep breath and the fresh air tasted sweet. The sun began to peek up over the hills to the east and bright rays of sun shining through the trees cast easy shadows across the fields. A little breeze sprang up and the air stirred around her, gently lifting the golden red curls from her face. Above her a vee of Canadian geese flew north, honking as they went. Jenny was touched by the wonder of the day and a thought rose in her heart like a small trout rising for a fly in a still mountain lake.
I’m still alive. This didn’t kill me, and I can still find joy and wonder in a day.
The screen door creaked behind her and she looked around to see her papa coming out on the porch. He was dressed for work and his handsome face broke into a smile. Reuben stepped down from the porch and came over to Jenny.
“You have a glow about you this morning, dochter. It is good for my heart to see life creeping back into you.”
Jenny stepped into the circle of Reuben’s arms.
Yes, I do feel life coming back into me. It’s as though I have been raised from the dead!
“Papa, thank you!”
“For what, Jenny?”
“For not giving up on me, for walking beside me, and for being my rock when the storm raged most fiercely about me.”
Reuben’s arms tightened around her. Then he spoke and she could tell the words were difficult by the way they seemed to be pulled from him, syllable by syllable.
“When Jenna died, I wanted to die. I felt so helpless and I believed that but for my wrong-headedness, Jenna would have lived. If das Vollkennen des Gottes had not sent someone to help me, I would have died by my own hand. And then Gott, in His infinite mercy and grace, sent you to us. I cannot explain to you how it happened, but when I saw you for the first time, I knew that you belonged to me and to your mama forever. I knew that I had been given a second chance and I loved you with every bit of the love that I had for Jenna. And so when I see you suffer, I suffer too.”
Jenny looked into her papa’s eyes; the deep sea-blue eyes with the smile behind them and saw home and safety in them.
“And so I would do anything to see you happy again. You make sonnenschein in meinem Herzen and now you have given us Rachel and the joy she brings with her is beyond our understanding. I cannot give Jonathan back to you. If I could, I would give my own life to do so. But that is beyond me, so I give you my love and this place and whatever you need to be happy again. That is my prayer.”
And as the bright spring sun warmed the earth, the winter of Jenny’s great sorrow began to melt away, and the icy stronghold that held her dreams and hopes locked in its frozen fastness crumbled under the warmth of her father’s love, and the river of life began to flow once more in her heart.
_______________
So, Brenda, I remember after the morning I knew I was going to live, I realized I wanted to write about Jonathan – I wanted to capture every memory I had of him and put it down so I would never forget. This was my first attempt and It’s a little rugged, but this is where I started so here goes…
Jonathan. What words can I find that describe him or serve his memory as they should? Kindness? Compassion? Wisdom? Self-sacrifice? Joy, gift, safety… love? Somehow I cannot seem to capture the essence of Jonathan with mere words. He was my true love, my best friend, my companion, my co-worker, my true yoke-fellow…all of these things. And yet, I still have not arrived at the heart of the matter. Maybe I will never be able to describe him or what he meant to me until I, too, have crossed over and my Lord explains it to me…
I hope that answers your question.
Blessings
Jenny
*Jenny Hershberger is a fictional character from the Apple Creek Dream series by Patrick E. Craig. You can find out more about how she came to be a writer by reading her story in Jenny’s Choice, Patrick’s latest novel.
The post Dear Jenny: How did you become an Amish writer? appeared first on Patrick E. Craig.
February 7, 2014
Dear Jenny: A Question About the “Old Days.”
Dear Jenny,
On television I watched a show about Amish kids living in the city and getting all caught up in computers and rock music. It just seemed so out of place and somehow wrong. I felt as though the modern world was slowly robbing the Amish of the qualities that made them Amish and I wondered what it was like to be Amish back in the days when they didn’t have all these modern temptations. Can you tell me about those times?
MaryAnn
___________________________________________________
MaryAnn,
You are right. One of the great challenges for the Amish people today is that there are so many “modern” things tearing us away from our roots in the land and the Plain Way. I believe it was easier to be Amish in the days when many more Americans lived on the farm, and the Amish could live a rural life without having some much attention focused on them. When I was doing research for “A Quilt For Jenna” I sat with my mama for many wonderful hours as she told me what life was like in Apple Creek before World War II. I looked in my notes and found this section. I hope this gives you a better idea of what life in simpler times…
______________
The days of my mama’s childhood were good days, filled with the comfort of a stable family and the practices of her faith. Her family was Old Order Amish and she loved the ways of her people. The Hershbergers lived on one of the largest farms on the outskirts of Apple Creek, Ohio. They had been in America for over two hundred years, since the first “Plain People” accepted William Penn’s offer of religious freedom and came to Pennsylvania from Switzerland in 1720. They came to the village of Apple Creek in 1857. The land was fertile and open and greatly suited the Amish folk and their agricultural ways.
During her childhood, the rest of the nation was suffering through the Great Depression, and the Amish were not sheltered from the turmoil of those years. The difference for the Amish was that they were better at doing more with less. The Hershberger family and their neighbors simply pulled inward, and Mama grew up in an atmosphere of love, self-sufficiency and community. From time to time homeless men would wander through the village. They would be fed, given a place to rest, and then most would move on. Apple Creek remained an island of safety in troubled times.
My mama loved the sense of continuity that pervaded every aspect of her young life. Her family could trace their roots all the way back to Jacob Amman and the original Amish who had broken with the Mennonites in 1693. They took pride in the fact that they still clung to the old ways, and they took great pains to separate themselves from the world and live quiet lives. Mama’s days were filled with the simple tasks of a farm girl, planting in the spring, tending the animals, cooking for her father and brothers as they harvested the corn and wheat. She watched her grandmother and mother can and preserve the garden produce, and put up the fruit for the winter. They filled the root cellar with potatoes, onions and barrels of apples. Her father brought ice from the winter pond and packed it into the cold house, which was dug into the side of a hill behind the house. Then they prepared hams, chickens and sides of beef and stored them away for the festive dinners and holiday celebrations that were the hallmark of her youth.
My grossdaadi Hershberger was an Armendiener, a deacon, and Mama told me how she loved to sit quietly while he read from the Bible during the Sunday meetings. His rich, baritone voice soothed her and filled her with a certainty that the God her family served could only be a good and loving God. Mama told me that she used to think that if God were anything like her daed, then God must be wonderful.
When she was old enough, Mama’s father gave her the job of bringing home the milk cows every evening. Sometimes she would have to tramp for miles to find them, but she thoroughly enjoyed it. Like most farm children, she liked being alone. In those days, before World War II, the fields around Apple Creek were open to the horizon and there were many stands of trees with small creeks and ponds. Mama found great comfort in the simplicity of her life as she wandered through the fields and woods. Every so often she would see someone in an automobile far off in the distance driving along State Highway 30, or hear the train chugging along the tracks to parts unknown, its mournful whistle seeming to warn of the dangers and sorrows of a complicated modern world. At these times my mama would kneel down on the earth and touch the grass, or stop by a cold clear brook and dip her hands in the water, feeling the coolness on her skin and letting her thoughts focus on the power of a God who could create such beauty with a spoken word.
________________
… I hope this helps, MaryAnn
*Jenny Hershberger is a fictional character from the Apple Creek Dreams series by Patrick E. Craig. You can read all about her career as a writer in “Jenny’s Choice,” Patrick’s latest Novel from Harvest House.
The post Dear Jenny: A Question About the “Old Days.” appeared first on Patrick E. Craig.
February 2, 2014
Dear Jenny: A Question About Amish Quilts
Dear Jenny,
I’ve heard so much about Amish Quilts and the skilled Amish women who make them. Can you tell me a little about the process of making one?
Annette
********************************************************************************************************
Annette,
I tried my hand at making quilts when I was young, but it was a disaster. Most of my attempts ended up in the rag basket. My mama, Jerusha, however, was a master quilt maker. She made the most beautiful quilts I have ever seen. The most wonderful quilt she ever made was The Rose of Sharon Quilt. I wrote about that in my book, “A Quilt For Jenna.” Mama described the process to me when I was taking notes for the book. So here’s the part of that book where I wrote about quilt making. I hope this is helpful to you.
Before Mama started the quilt she sketched out a rough design and in the following days cut the hundreds of pieces to make the pattern and piece the top. Then she sorted and ironed them, pinned and stitched and ironed every one and then stitched them all into a rectangle measuring approximately eight and one-half feet by nine feet. After that she laid the piece out on the floor and traced the entire quilting design on the fabric with tailor’s chalk. The design unfolded before her eyes like someone else was directing her hand and now she saw it completely.
She used royal blue pieces that made a dark, iridescent backdrop to a beautiful deep red rose-shaped piece in the center. The rose had hundreds of petals, all cut into the flowing shapes of petals instead of the traditional square or diamond-shaped patterns of Amish quilts. The quilting pattern was the most complicated she had ever done, but she traced it out, step by step. Then she laid out the cream-colored backing, placed a double layer of batting on top of it and on top of it all, she placed the ironed patchwork piece that she had developed over the past month. On her hands and knees she carefully basted the layers together, starting from the center and working out to the edges. Once she was finished, she called the neighbor boy for help. He held it while she carefully attached one end to the quilting frame, and then they slowly turned the pole until she could attach the other end. Then she drew the quilt tight until it was stable enough to stitch on and she began to quilt. Delicate tracks of quilting stitches began to make their trails through the surface of the quilt as Jerusha labored day after day at her work.
*Jenny Hershberger is a ficticious character from the Apple Creek Dreams series by Patrick E. Craig. You can read about her writing career in Jenny’s Choice, Patrick’s latest book.
The post Dear Jenny: A Question About Amish Quilts appeared first on Patrick E. Craig.
February 1, 2014
Jenny’s Here! – Jenny’s Choice by Patrick E. Craig
Jenny’s Choice – final book in the Apple Creek Dreams series by Patrick E. Craig – from Harvest House Publishers.
The post Jenny’s Here! – Jenny’s Choice by Patrick E. Craig appeared first on Patrick E. Craig.
January 31, 2014
Welcome JENNY’S CHOICE – We Have Winners!!!
~Tenney Singer~
Jenny has arrived!
I am pleased to announce the release of JENNY’S CHOICE, the third and final book in the Apple Creek Dreams series. In honor of the event I will be giving away a GRAND PRIZE: A complete signed set of the Apple Creek Dreams books – A QUILT FOR JENNA, THE ROAD HOME, and JENNY’S CHOICE.
I will also be giving away THREE signed copies of JENNY’S CHOICE!
Just LEAVE A COMMENT on this post and I will pick a winner next week.
And a grateful THANKS to everyone who has helped to make Apple Creek Dreams a success!
Patrick E. Craig
Sometimes I think that life is like a rushing river that begins its journey high in the mountains, tumbles down over jagged rocks, rushes headlong over cliffs, and pours booming through the portals of nameless chasms until at last it breaks free of the confines of harsh stone walls and finds a broad plain spread before it – and then the once chaotic millrace flows deep and quiet through lush, verdant meadows, between banks that hold it tenderly.
The choices we make on the way to this place are usually made quickly and without thinking, like the one a boatman makes as his vessel poises on the brink before it plunges headlong into the rushing maelstrom of the rapids. These are the choices we formulate in an instant that, if we live, we look back on and understand, with a quiet shudder in our soul, the eternal enormity of a moment.
But even so, I think the choices we make as we drift in the place of safety and security are those that can be the most consequential. For every soldier knows that it is in the lush growth beside a quiet river, or beneath the deep underbrush of a peaceful forest that the enemy is most likely to be hidden.
Choices – From The Journals of Jenny Hershberger – Jenny’s Choice
Jenny’s Choice by Patrick E. Craig – February 1, 2014
The post Welcome JENNY’S CHOICE – We Have Winners!!! appeared first on Patrick E. Craig.
Welcome JENNY’S CHOICE – Win a complete set of the Apple Creek Dreams series
~Tenney Singer~
Jenny has arrived!
I am pleased to announce the release of JENNY’S CHOICE, the third and final book in the Apple Creek Dreams series. In honor of the event I will be giving away a GRAND PRIZE: A complete signed set of the Apple Creek Dreams books – A QUILT FOR JENNA, THE ROAD HOME, and JENNY’S CHOICE.
I will also be giving away THREE signed copies of JENNY’S CHOICE!
Just LEAVE A COMMENT on this post and I will pick a winner next week.
And a grateful THANKS to everyone who has helped to make Apple Creek Dreams a success!
Patrick E. Craig
Sometimes I think that life is like a rushing river that begins its journey high in the mountains, tumbles down over jagged rocks, rushes headlong over cliffs, and pours booming through the portals of nameless chasms until at last it breaks free of the confines of harsh stone walls and finds a broad plain spread before it – and then the once chaotic millrace flows deep and quiet through lush, verdant meadows, between banks that hold it tenderly.
The choices we make on the way to this place are usually made quickly and without thinking, like the one a boatman makes as his vessel poises on the brink before it plunges headlong into the rushing maelstrom of the rapids. These are the choices we formulate in an instant that, if we live, we look back on and understand, with a quiet shudder in our soul, the eternal enormity of a moment.
But even so, I think the choices we make as we drift in the place of safety and security are those that can be the most consequential. For every soldier knows that it is in the lush growth beside a quiet river, or beneath the deep underbrush of a peaceful forest that the enemy is most likely to be hidden.
Choices – From The Journals of Jenny Hershberger – Jenny’s Choice
Jenny’s Choice by Patrick E. Craig – February 1, 2014
January 19, 2014
The Departure, From Jenny’s Choice – Coming February 1st, 2014
Jenny sighed again as Jonathan crowded back into her thoughts. She stood up, grabbed an empty box and quickly put the letterbox and the rest of the items from the dresser top into it. Then she folded up the linen piece, placed it on top of her other belongings and closed up the box. She set it with the others, piled the clothing on a chair by the door, and then pulled the quilt and the linens from the bed. She folded them and put them into the last remaining empty box. She surveyed the stack of boxes and then went to the closet and took out her suitcase. Carefully she packed her clothing in it and snapped the latches shut. The click of the latches echoed in the room like tiny gunshots. Finished. Ended. She took a deep breath.
There! I’m done! That wasn’t so bad. Cousin Borntraeger can carry all this out for me and take it to the storage place. Mama said to just bring our clothes for now.
She heard boots on the front porch and her heart leaped. Then just as quickly reality smashed her down. Another deep sigh was torn from her. How many times had she heard Jonathan coming up the front stoop and walking across the porch to the door? It was always such a comforting sound at the end of the day. And now…
There was a knock at the door and then a voice calling.
“Jenny? Are you ready, then?”
“I’m here, Cousin, in the bedroom. Can you help me with these boxes?”
Lem Borntraeger walked down the hall and into the room. He glanced around at the emptiness and pulled his black hat from his head.
“Jenny, are you sure this is what you want? We all want you to stay. I know it won’t be the same without Jonathan, but you have family here.”
Jenny looked at her tall cousin. He had been one of the blessings God bestowed on them when they had come to Paradise ten years before. He had taken her into his heart from the first day they met, and after she and Jonathan married, he became their good friend and helper. She reached over and patted his arm.
“I have to go home, Lem. I just need to be with my mama and papa. You will run the farm and it will prosper in your care. For me, there are too many memories. Sometimes it feels like my remembrances of Jonathan and our days here are like cobwebs that stick to me and hold me fast. They keep me from going on with my life. And I need to go on now or I will die inside.”
“Will you ever come back?” Lem asked.
“Right now I would say no,” Jenny answered. “But who knows the road ahead? We may come back someday, when I can be in this house without weeping every time I turn around.”
Jenny managed a weak smile.
“I need to go, Lem.”
“All right, then,” Lem said, “I understand.”
He stood for a moment with his hat in his hands.
“Jonathan was a good man and he was my friend. I will miss him deeply.”
Then Lem put his hat back on and smiled.
“It’s enough. Now let me load these boxes.”
Jenny watched him as he picked up two boxes and went out. She took one last look at the room and then turned to go.
“Jenny!”
She stopped and turned, thinking she had heard Jonathan’s voice. But it was only the echoes of unspoken longings that filled her aching heart. She went one last time to the bed and touched it softly.
“Jonathan, oh, Jonathan. You are my true love. There will never be anyone like you for me. Thank you, my dearest, for loving me so deeply. Thank you for being a good man, a wonderful husband and a loving father to Rachel. May God be with you on your journey.”
Jenny stood silent for a moment and then picked up her suitcase, turned, and left the room. She went into Rachel’s room, gathered up the few things that were still out and packed them in her daughter’s suitcase. Then she took Rachel’s hand and together they walked down the hall through the empty front room and out onto the porch. A carriage waited for them in the driveway. She boosted Rachel up as Lem put the suitcases in the back and then she climbed in. She nodded to the driver who clicked his tongue and set the horse in motion. The carriage rolled slowly down the driveway. Jenny looked straight ahead. She would not look back, she was going, it was done. But then just as the horse turned onto the main road, her resolve crumbled and she looked back. The blue, two-story house stood in the middle of the now harvested fields. As she looked she could see Jonathan behind the plow, waving to her as the rich soil turned and broke beneath the sharp blade. She could see his smile and his wonderful eyes. She could feel his strong arms around her as they stood together on the porch, looking out over the land – their land – in awe of the blessings of God. She put her face into her hands and silently began to weep. The clopping hooves beat out a slow and mournful cadence –
“…He’s gone, he’s gone, he’s gone.”
From Jenny’s Choice, The Final Book in the Apple Creek Dreams Series – Coming February 1, 2013
From Patrick E. Craig and Harvest House Publishers
December 28, 2013
The Secret Revealed – The Amish Heiress: from The Paradise Chronicles
When Rachel came home she stood in the hallway thinking about the man she had just met.
Augusta St. Clair. Mama told me that she was a bad woman. Why is she trying to be friendly now?
Rachel heard the soft sound of voices from the front room. It was her mama and papa, talking quietly. Rachel started to walk in when she heard something that made her stop and listen. Her mama was speaking.
“… and he’s looking for someone who holds the Key.”
Jonathan’s low voice answered Jenny.
“What is the key, Jenny?”
“It’s the St. Clair Birthmark. It’s a key-shaped red stain right above the heart. It has been the main way that the trustees of the St. Clair estate have decided who inherits the fortune.”
Rachel’s heart leaped. She couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Her mama went on.
“My birth father, Robert St. Clair, was the heir to the St. Clair money. When he died the money was put in trust until a new heir could be determined. Obviously Augusta is having trouble laying her hands on the bulk of the money or she wouldn’t be sending out agents. There’s something going on and it does not bode well for us, Husband.”
“And this key – is it the same one that Rachel has on her chest?”
“It seems so, Jonathan. The man, Randall, showed me a picture of one of the St. Clairs from around 1200 A.D. He had exactly the same mark above his heart.”
“And the holder of the Key is the heir to all the St. Clair money?”
“Yes Jonathan, but there is a catch.”
“What’s that, Jenny”
“Rachel would have to marry a suitable St. Clair male in order to inherit. That would keep the money in the family.”
“How does that affect Rachel?”
“Augusta St. Clair has a grandson, Gerald. From what Randall said, actually didn’t say, Gerald would be a suitable male St. Clair.”
“So if Rachel married him, she would become fabulously wealthy?”
“Yes, Jonathan. And that is why we must not tell her.”
As she stood outside, listening to her parents, Rachel started to feel angry. She was about to open her mouth and say something, but in that moment she felt the card in her hand. She walked quietly back down the hallway and held it up in the light.
Gordon Randall
Investigations and Security
12 Plaza Way,
New, York, NY 213-342-1200
Rachel felt something else rise up in her. It was a mixture of hope and fear. This was her way out! She was the heiress to a vast fortune. She could come forward and claim it and then she could do anything she wanted with her life. No more Papa yelling at her, no more elders of the church telling her what she could or couldn’t do. She could pay her own way through school and set up her practice wherever she wanted. It was like a miracle…
And yet there had been something about the man’s eyes that troubled Rachel. But still… As the prospects opened before her, something in Rachel’s heart hardened. She would leave here, she would leave this Amish life, with all it’s rules and regulations, the hateful Ordnung that bound her with fetters of steel. She would escape from her papa’s insanity, his moods and rages. This was her way out. As she stood there in the hallway, a great battle begin to rage in Rachel’s soul. She thought of her mama, and her home, all the things that she loved… and… Daniel.
Daniel? He’s just a friend. I could never marry Daniel…
And yet there was something, like a light trying to force its way into a very dark place.
Daniel! He loves me. He loves me with all his heart… Daniel…
For just another moment she hesitated. And then Rachel shut the door of her heart and walked up the stairs to her room, clutching Gordon Randall’s business card.
Excerpt from The Amish Heiress – Book one in The Paradise Chronicles by Patrick E. Craig. Coming Soon!
December 15, 2013
We Have A Winner! “A Candlelight Christmas Memory” – Guest Blog by Kathi Macias – Book Giveaway
The Winner of our book giveaway is: Josephinelynn Rigle
It was Christmas Eve. I’d been a Christian for ten years, but each day since I’d received Jesus as my Savior, I’d prayed for my dad’s salvation. My stubborn German father, though raised by a praying mother, had rejected his childhood faith and insisted he was an atheist.
My dad sat stoically beside my mother that night as the service progressed, showing no signs of being ready to turn his life over to Christ. Though it was nothing short of a miracle that he had agreed to accompany us that evening, I still fought discouragement as I struggled to pray.
Then the lights went down and ushers made their way down the aisle to light the candles of the first parishioner in each row. Those parishioners then turned and lit the candle of the next person in the row, and so on until everyone held a lit candle.
As I waited, I glanced toward my parents and realized my ever-practical father must have decided the process was going much too slowly, for he suddenly fished his cigarette lighter out of his pocket and started lighting candles. Within minutes he had lit every candle at his end of the pew and was reaching over to the people in the pew in front of us to start on theirs.
Fighting humiliation, I closed my eyes and felt the sting of unexpected tears as I realized he was simply trying to be helpful. I heard a couple of chuckles in nearby rows, but no one said anything until the usher arrived at our pew. With the glow from his candle illuminating his face, the smiling man thanked my father for his assistance. Dad returned his smile and assured him he was glad to be of help, and the gracious usher moved on.
It was nearly fifteen years later before the last “holdout” in our family responded to the loving call of his heavenly Father. At eighty-eight years of age, less than one week before his death in October 1999, my beloved father received Jesus as his Savior—and then promptly went home to be with Him.
I have thought of that Christmas Eve so many times over the last couple of decades, and both marveled and rejoiced at God’s mercy and faithfulness. That candlelit evening—though several of those candles were lit with a cigarette lighter—will always be one of my fondest memories.
***Kathi Macias ( http://www.kathimacias.com ) is the author of more than 40 books, including The Doctor’s Christmas Quilt, Unexpected Christmas Hero, and A Christmas Journey Home.
Christmas Giveaway – The Doctor’s Christmas Quilt by Kathi Macias
Just add a comment and we’ll pick a winner by Christmas!!
“A Candlelight Christmas Memory” – Guest Blog by Kathi Macias – Book Giveaway
It was Christmas Eve. I’d been a Christian for ten years, but each day since I’d received Jesus as my Savior, I’d prayed for my dad’s salvation. My stubborn German father, though raised by a praying mother, had rejected his childhood faith and insisted he was an atheist.
My dad sat stoically beside my mother that night as the service progressed, showing no signs of being ready to turn his life over to Christ. Though it was nothing short of a miracle that he had agreed to accompany us that evening, I still fought discouragement as I struggled to pray.
Then the lights went down and ushers made their way down the aisle to light the candles of the first parishioner in each row. Those parishioners then turned and lit the candle of the next person in the row, and so on until everyone held a lit candle.
As I waited, I glanced toward my parents and realized my ever-practical father must have decided the process was going much too slowly, for he suddenly fished his cigarette lighter out of his pocket and started lighting candles. Within minutes he had lit every candle at his end of the pew and was reaching over to the people in the pew in front of us to start on theirs.
Fighting humiliation, I closed my eyes and felt the sting of unexpected tears as I realized he was simply trying to be helpful. I heard a couple of chuckles in nearby rows, but no one said anything until the usher arrived at our pew. With the glow from his candle illuminating his face, the smiling man thanked my father for his assistance. Dad returned his smile and assured him he was glad to be of help, and the gracious usher moved on.
It was nearly fifteen years later before the last “holdout” in our family responded to the loving call of his heavenly Father. At eighty-eight years of age, less than one week before his death in October 1999, my beloved father received Jesus as his Savior—and then promptly went home to be with Him.
I have thought of that Christmas Eve so many times over the last couple of decades, and both marveled and rejoiced at God’s mercy and faithfulness. That candlelit evening—though several of those candles were lit with a cigarette lighter—will always be one of my fondest memories.
***Kathi Macias ( http://www.kathimacias.com ) is the author of more than 40 books, including The Doctor’s Christmas Quilt, Unexpected Christmas Hero, and A Christmas Journey Home.
Christmas Giveaway – The Doctor’s Christmas Quilt by Kathi Macias
Just add a comment and we’ll pick a winner by Christmas!!
