Sarah Martin Byrd's Blog, page 12

Modern Day Canning – 101

Can you believe until a few days ago I was still canning green beans in an old fashioned, as in not pressurized canner? Why, because I’m just not one to fix something if it’s not broken. But this year when I gazed out the two long rows of green beans that are climbing their way up the corn stalks, I thought, goodness at the beans. I’ll never get all these canned in one day. You see, canning the old timey way you have to boil the canned beans for three hours. That’s right, three hours and the canner only holds nine quarts. I was looking at four cannings, that’s twelve hours of watching a pot boil, not to mention the time it takes for it to start boiling.

So, with reservations I purchased a brand new 16-quart pressure cooker. I’ll be honest, the reason I haven’t modernized my canning process is that I’m just plain scared of those pressurized time bombs. While growing up my mama had a pressure cooker that she used to cook pinto beans, and tenderize rabbit and squirrel in. I never thought much about it until the day the darn thing blew the pressure valve out and spewed pintos all over the ceiling. That was a pretty scary… and messy day.

I push my fears aside and open the box to unleash the silver monster. I take the instruction manual in hand and read it cover to cover. The first indication that there may be a problem is on page ten of that manual. It says to turn to page fourteen for the cooking timetable for approximate cooking times. I flip to page fourteen to see how long I have to cook my green beans. On page fourteen it tells me how to identify my pressure cooker and where to locate the serial number and info about a one-year warranty, but it doesn’t tell me how long to cook my green beans. Nowhere in the manual does it have that information. The manual also does not tell me how much water to put in the cooker. Luckily I have a canning book I ordered from Ball that tells me to cook my quart jars full of beans for twenty-five minutes under pressure. I finally go on the Internet to see how much water to add. Two to three inches if anyone else needs to know.

There was also a smaller box that held what the manual called selective pressure controls. One was 5 PSI, the other 10 PSI and last but not least there was a 15 PSI. Somewhere in the manual I read that if you live under 1,000 feet elevation you should use the 10 PSI. Okay, I’m ready. I follow the manual step by step; I even do a trial run with only water in the cooker like the manual suggests. Second indication that all might not be going well is when the pressure builds up in the cooker and the 10 PSI selective pressure control does not gently rock, it expels steam exactly the way mama’s cooker did all those years ago when it blew! I quickly turn the burner off and step outside until the selective pressure control stops spitting and spewing.

Now I am anxious. What do I do? Return the cooker defeated or lock horns with the pot of tin? Of course you know what I do. After the silver monster cools, I start all over again, no trial run this time, I’m ready for the real thing. I put my seven filled jars of beans in the cooker, fill it with three inches of water, plus a tablespoon of vinegar to keep the cooker from staining, lock the lid in place and wait for the pot to boil, so to say. The manual says to let steam come from the hole for ten minutes before putting the selective pressure control on top. When ten minutes has elapsed I drop on the 10 PSI and wait for the gentle rocking to begin. In a matter of minutes the selective pressure control is going crazy again. It’s spraying steam and trying to jump off the top of the cooker. Again, I turn the burner off and step outside. By this time I must admit, because the Lord already knows, I have spit out a few bad words and the little man that rides on my shoulder is giving me down the road saying, “I told you so. You should have stuck with the old ways. You never should have bought that thing, you know better.” “Shut up little voice.”

After a few deep breaths I go back inside, pick up the manual and call the toll free number on page seventeen under the heading, Canning Problems. A very nice lady comes on the line and I tell her about my crazy selective pressure control. She proceeds to tell me that some selective pressure controls don’t gently rock, but act exactly like mine is doing. I thank her and go back to the cooker, turning the burner on high again. This time when the steam comes, and the bucking 10 PSI is raging I face it like a champion. I turn the burner down to medium heat and square up eye to eye with the pot. Finally the cooker quits throwing a fit and settles down to erupting every few minutes just like the helpful lady said it would.

Thinking I have mastered the one-eyed 10 PSI monster, confidently I start my second batch. Right away I know something is wrong. There is a loud arcing coming from the burner on the stove, and steam is not only coming from the hole in the top, but also from the safety vent on the handle. I check the burner and don’t see flames so I continue to wait the allotted ten minutes and then sit the 10 PSI selective pressure control on the lid. At once the steam starts coming from all the holes in the selective pressure control. It never stops long enough to build up the correct amount of pressure.

Again I dial the toll free number in the manual and another nice lady picks up. Right away she tells me that I have a problem. She tells me to let this cooking run it’s course, and for the next one make sure the rubber seal in the lid is adjusted properly and that there is a opaque O-ring on the safety vent on the handle. I end up cooking this batch the old timey way, three hours.

To make a long story a little shorter, on the third try the 10 PSI control doesn’t work again. By this time I am about to stroke out and my husband knows it. He suggests I try the 15 PSI selective pressure control. I argue that is not what the manual says, and then I remember some other things that it said was not correct either so I sit the 15 PSI on the lid. It works perfectly. Needless to say I’ll be returning the 10 PSI selective pressure control and asking for a new one like the toll free lady told me I should do.

The worst part of this experience was I let a 16-quart pressure cooker rattle me. I was outside my comfort zone and the thing knew it and acted upon it, just like the devil does. Satan comes at us in all different shapes and sizes. He waits until we are venerable and then he preys upon us. I really feel ashamed that I let the boogieman have his way with me. Fear is one of the devil’s weapons. He uses it so that we doubt our abilities and ourselves. So lesson learned. Don’t let a pressure cooker called Satan stop you from accomplishing whatever you have set your mind to do.

Isaiah 7:4

And say unto him, Take heed, and be quiet; fear not, neither be fainthearted…

Words to Ponder on Your Anniversary

Genesis 2:20

So the man gave names to all the livestock, the birds of the air and all the beasts of the field. But for Adam no suitable helper was found.

This week my husband and I will celebrate thirty-six years of wedded bliss. I might be stretching the bliss part a bit here, but oh well, the number of years is correct. Not everyday has been full of enduring embraces and love taps. Like every other couple there are some days when the spouse and I just don’t gee-haw. We’ve had a few rough spots over the years, but for some reason we’ve hung together, and I am so thankful we did. There were times when I never thought we’d make it this far, but we’ve been blessed because we stayed together.

Being married is kind of like birthing a baby. The pain of labor is intense. Time stops. It takes all the strength a woman has to deliver that babe. During the process you’re thinking: I will never put myself through this again. But you do. When you see the result of your agony, you realize every second of pain was worth it.

When you’re married sometimes you think: I can’t do this. Why should I stick it out? Now I am no authority on marriage but we all need to realize that when troubles arise in a relationship it usually isn’t the fault of one, but both. If you really love and respect each other you discuss your problems, your wants and needs, apologize for whatever you did or didn’t do, and like childbirth, you forget the pain of the ordeal and carry on.

I’m not saying you should stay in an abusive situation. Never, ever let someone belittle you with words or strike you with their hand. Just pray for wisdom if you’re facing a difficult time in your marriage. Make sure you’re doing everything possible to fix your life together. God’s plan is for a married man and woman to live out all their days together.

He also knows we’re human and being human, we’re selfish. Don’t look over the fence and think that the milk is more delicious and the honey sweeter on the other side. On the surface milk looks pure white and is cool and pleasing to the tongue, but it soon spoils. And honey is delectable and tasty, but it attracts bees and we all know bees sting.

Through all the rough spots, the ups and downs of raising children, financial struggles, and just plain old selfishness I am thankful that the good Lord saw fit for Jerry and I to stick together. Even after thirty-six years some days are not perfect. And, I know that if I’m around to celebrate my golden anniversary I’ll still be saying everything is not always great. Perfection exists in only one person, and that is Jesus Christ. Just remember that God made a man and woman to be helpmates. Are you being selfish, or are you uplifting your mate?

On a different note, I hope all you dad’s out there had a blessed Father’s Day. If your daddy is still around, let him know how much you love him, and how much you appreciate the things he’s done for you. Thirty years ago this November the 3rd, on a cool autumn afternoon I told my daddy goodbye for the day, and I never saw him alive again. He was fifty years old.

I Hear Voices, Don’t You?

In a recent episode of Gunsmoke, I heard Festus Haggen say that he had the “second sight.” Miss Kitty, who Festus thought was “looksome” and “thoughty” wasn’t buying into his latest revelation. She was kind to Festus so he often went to the Long Branch to throw down a beer with her, but this time Miss Kitty was sort of making fun of him. And Doc, the “old scudder” well, he just rubbed his chin and shook his head at Festus. Unlike Miss Kitty and Doc I believe old Festus did have a touch of the “second sight.” Festus described his “second sight” as a feeling. He didn’t brag that he could see everything in the future; he just simply had a feeling every now and then about what might be going to happen.

I’ve wondered about having that “second sight” at times myself. There have been occasions when I have heard voices, or seen a flash of nothing. Now you’re thinking, that girls finally lost what little sense she’s ever had. For all kinds of reasons I agree. But listen. The voices I hear are those of the main characters I write about in my novels. I’ll even admit that when they talk to me, I answer them. For instance, in the novel I’m writing now, Callie Mae McCauley is a thirteen-year-old mountain girl. She’s been orphaned twice and is now facing spending the next several years in an orphanage in Virginia called Abingdon Presbyterian Children’s Home. Her closest kin are two uncles who don’t want to have anything to do with her, except cheat her out of a piece of land her Granny Jane has left to her.

Callie finds out that, “them uncles,” as she calls them, want the land to sell to a fancy hydroelectric power company. Callie’s land sits smack dab in the middle of the location of the projected dam on the New River. Can this orphaned thirteen year listen to her “second sight” and fulfill God’s will for her life? Will this speck of a girl save thousands of acres of land, and the mountain dwellers homes from being flooded? Callie’s got a lot to stand up against, because as Festus would say, them uncles are, “Meaner than a four-headed rattlesnake.”

Callie isn’t aware of the fact that she might have the “second sight.” She just knows that every which way she turns she’s facing bad luck. Inside her head, Callie understands all things happen for a reason, like the Good Book says. But she wonders why? When Callie’s thinking like that, and not sure what’s going to happen to her I step back from the computer and talk to her? Normally our conversation goes something like this.

“Well Callie, what are you going to do now? You’re in a real pickle.” As Festus would say, “Callie, the onliest thing you get from straddlin’ the fence is a sore backside. Make up your mind which way you’re going to go.” In her own time Callie always answers me. Sometimes it takes an hour or two, and sometimes I have to give her space and just wait for days, or maybe even weeks. Not because of writers block, but because Callie is still wandering, trying to find her way.

The River Keeper at just over forty thousand words has taken Callie from Crumpler to Twin Oaks, North Carolina, and then from Twin Oaks to Foster Falls, Virginia. One of the most fun parts of being a writer is you can take your characters anywhere you want to. If Callie decides to travel to the State Capitol, then I simply take her there. If Callie wants to marry and have children, well then so be it, she has a fine, handsome husband and three rambunctious kids. But then again Callie might decide to stay single and travel the world. Okay, what ever you say Callie, it’s your life!

When I write a story I can make my characters as mean as I want them to be or as sweet as a cherry soda. I can led them on a path of adventure and discovery or settle them in to a ho-hum life of the same old, same old mundane stuff every day. I can make them skinny or chubby, tall or short, black or white. All I’ve got to do is listen to their voices and let them tell me what they want to become.

In The River Keeper, Callie is speaking in first person telling her own story. Somehow this just seems to fit. With my last novel I found I love writing in first person. So maybe I am a little selfish and do things my way, instead of letting those characters have all the say. I am however letting Callie speak in her natural mountain dialect. I’m not sure about writing style or the correct way to do a lot of things, but I’m pretty sure I’m breaking all the rules of basic English with this work. My editor is going to have a hay day with The River Keeper, because I have thrown grammar to the hogs just like Festus Haggen did. I’m letting Callie Mae and my “second sight” finish this story. I might not be able to conjure a wart off of somebody’s finger, but I know when somebody’s talking to me in my head. Out of the mouth of Festus, “If I’m lyin’, I’m dyin’.”

The Calm After the Storm

Last week we loaded up the old RV, and I do mean, “loaded” and took off for a few days of fun and sun at Emerald Isle, North Carolina. When we left on Tuesday it was hot and sunny. I couldn’t wrap my mind around the weather forecast for the next day saying there would be wind gusts up to thirty-five miles per hour with heavy rain.

Upon arrival we found our campsite on the first row right in front of the ocean. I was sort of sad that a big sand dune hid our view of the Atlantic, but Wednesday morning I was thankful for that mountain of earth, grass, and bushes that sort of blocked the howling blasts of air.

The afternoon was beautiful, not a cloud in the sky. However, you could tell the upcoming tropical storm was churning up a mighty big assault on the coastline. The undercurrent was fearsome, and the thrust of the water against the ocean floor was slinging jellyfish on shore left and right. We even saw dozens of tiny purple ones. A Google search told us that they are really rare. But fearful of the sting of one of those beauties we retired to the pool. And, don’t let anyone persuade you to let him or her pee on you if you get stung by one of those things. That cure does not work! Use vinegar, it takes the burn out.

On Wednesday morning around 7 a.m. rain pinging off the top of the camper woke me for the second time. The first awakening was before 6 a.m. by my dear husband. Who in their right mind gets up before 6 in the morning on vacation? Before long the wind picked up and started rocking our dwelling on wheels. I got up to look out the window and it was a sight. Trees swaying, trashcan lids flying, rain blowing sideways. I wondered if a camper floats? I was a bit concerned and asked the hubby did he think we should move inland. He didn’t seem to think so. So, we rode tropical storm Beryl out, in a twenty-eight foot camper, parked oceanfront, with an eight-year old to entertain.

Around eleven o’clock the rain slacked off and Emma persuaded her pappy and I to take a stroll up to the top of the sand dune to look at the ocean. We could hear the waves crashing against the shore, beating pellets of sand and shell against each other making more sand. We donned our raincoats and struck out on a walk-in-the-rain adventure. The ocean was everything we expected. The waves were ten feet high, and fierce enough that surfers were wise not to tempt those waters.

Up the beach we saw the Bogue Inlet Pier. Could we make the mile or so hike without the heavens opening up again? Well, we made it to the pier, but three hours later after a nice lunch at Rucker John’s a steady rain began as we were making our way back to the camper. You should have seen Emma’s face. It was glowing. What could be more fun than walking in the rain? By the time we arrived back at the campground we were drenched. But you know what? Our wet clothes were soon dried and forgotten, but the memory of our adventure will last a lifetime.

The afternoon brought more rain and wind from Beryl. Worn out from the walk we all settled in for a nice afternoon nap. The next morning dawned bright and clear. The ocean was once again tamed: The calm after the storm. How could there be such a drastic change from one day till the next?

You know our life is sometimes like a bad storm. Right before I left for our beach vacation one of my best friends mother passed away. While on our trip, a church members dad died unexpectedly, and another close friend’s father had a heart attack. All of a sudden my friends were caught in one of life’s many storms. Adrift, with the ocean churning all around them. The same has happened to me many times, burdens dragging me down deep into the depths of the dark waters. Swallowing me up with pity and sadness. Washing in through every pore in my body, drowning my heart with grief.

When these troubled times blow into our lives we have to remember that tomorrow is a new day. The clouds of doom will be overshadowed by the glow of the sun. When sorrow threatens to bury us in it’s depths, we must remember that God makes no mistakes. His plans are not always our plans, but He is always with us to comfort and gather us up in His embrace. Hold on my dear friends, there is always a calm after the storm. If the Great Comforter could calm the sea, rest assured He can handle our struggles. God’s love, and eternal promise delivers the calm before, during and after the storm.

Psalm 107: 29

He maketh the storm a calm, so that the waves thereof are still.

Thank You, Memorial Day 2012

During the Memorial Day Weekend I started wondering about all the men and women who had lost their lives in the eleven wars Americans have fought in. Each person who lost his, or her life was a unique individual. A person God created with a face, personality and soul like none other. Each fallen soldier was someone’s son, brother, dad, sister, wife or mother. They should not be a forgotten memory. They were real flesh and blood with the same wants and needs of you and me. The only difference, they choose to shield and defend our right to life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness.

As we celebrate our freedom during this holiday, let us not forget those who gave their own lives, so I would be free to write these words. This blog is in honor of all who have died defending our country.

*The Revolutionary War – 1775 to 1783

Nearly 5000 men lost.

*The War of 1812 – 1812 to 1815

Over 2000 lost.

*The Mexican War – 1846 to 1848

Over 13,000 lost.

*The American Civil War – 1861 to 1865

In the bloodiest conflict in the history of America, nearly 700,000 lives were lost.

*The Spanish-American War – 1898

Over 2000 lost.

*World War 1 – 1917 to 1918

Over 116,000 lost.

*World War 11 – 1941 to 1945

Nearly 400,000 lost.

*The Korean Conflict – 1950 to 1953

Over 36,000 lost

*The Vietnam Conflict – 1964 to 1973

Nearly 60,000 men and women lost their lives.

*The Gulf War – 1990 to 1991

The U.S. lost 382 lives.

*The Iraq War – 2003 to present

So far nearly 4500 lives have been lost.

If you total the causalities in all the above wars these past 237 years, then add the other conflicts in Grenada, Panama, Mogadishu, and the Balkans the total is over 1,346,000+ men and women who have perished to protect the freedom of each and every man, woman and child in this great United States of America.

Saying thank you to the families who are left behind without a son, daughter, dad or mom seems so small. But if we all remember these fallen warriors, then the thank you will grow and increase in meaning. We should never take our freedom for granted, because over one million, three hundred forty six men and women were thinking of us when they laid down their lives. May God bless our service men and women, and their families who sacrifice so much.

Isaiah 65:25

The wolf and the lamb shall feed together, and the lion shall eat straw like the bullock: And dust shall be the serpent’s meat. They shall not hurt nor destroy in all my holy mountain, saith the Lord.

Sweet Summer Time

Summer has officially begun at my house. No, it isn’t June 20th. But, it is the day my granddaughter, Emma gets out of school for the summer. I cannot believe another school year is over. And, in only eleven weeks it will all start over again.

When I was a youngster summer vacation began sometime in mid May and lasted until after Labor Day. Now kids are going back to school as early as August 9th. In my day that would never have worked. The bottom leaves of the tobacco crop had barely been pulled by then. My grandpa’s goal was to always have his last barn of tobacco curing by the time school started. If poor old grandpa was still around, he’d be hard pressed to accept the shortening of summer vacation.

What will you be doing this summer? I, for one will be enjoying every minute of it. Fishing on the banks of the New River. Fishing in my husbands new, second-hand 14-foot aluminum boat at Lake Norman. Cat fishing in the Yadkin River, and maybe even fishing a bit in the big old Atlantic Ocean. You don’t have to wonder if I like fishing or not, do you?

I’m not sure if it’s the fishing, or the water that is the draw factor for me. Needless to say I love water, especially rivers. I can simply float the days away in an old canoe, or just sit on the bank and watch the water flow. Yesterday my husband and I took his aluminum boat down to Lake Norman. We launched, and then just rode around for a couple of hours. There are some gigantic houses on that lake. I don’t think my little eleven hundred square foot house would fit in down there, but who cares, my 14-foot water vessel didn’t either, but I had a load of fun anyway.

I guess I’ve never been one to have to keep up with the Jones’. When you’re raised poor, you learn to appreciate what you have, and it doesn’t have to be the finest either. Who cares if shiny motorboats and party pontoons surround you? There will always be people who have bigger houses and boats than I do. But, at the end of the day the peace that my simple life brings makes me one of the luckiest people in the world.

This summer, I’m going to spend time with my family. I’ll enjoy the sunshine, the water, read a few good books, can some vegetables and finish writing my next novel. If you don’t see this blog every Monday you’ll know I’m fishin’.

I’d love to know how you’re planning to spend your summer. Hopefully you’ll enjoy some of the simple things God has given you. Don’t take for granted the things that are right in front of you. Family, the outdoors, a small fishing boat, a cooler filled with Mountain Dew, and a good book. And, if you get a chance to take a boat ride… go for it!

Rain. God’s Gift or Curse?

It’s raining, it’s pouring the old man is snoring. Yes, really. I woke this morning to my husband Jerry snoring, and the rain pitter-pattering on my window. What a glorious day to be alive.

I love rain. For me it is God’s way of telling me to slow down, to sit back and listen. Have you ever heard the rain talking to you? Of course you have. All kinds of things run through my head as the rain bounces off the tin roof of my camper. Or, when it blows sideways and tings off the windows of my house. Rain has a language all of it’s own.

When I was a little girl nothing made me happier than to go out and play in the rain. Now as an older lady I must admit I like to listen, and watch the rain from the comforts of inside. I can almost feel the rain on my skin as I think back to my childhood. Cool, wet, sometimes stinging when it came down really fast. Precious memories.

For me rain is a gift. But then there are days like today when it has been pouring for hours and I begin to wonder about flooding. Having grown up near the Big Elkin Creek, I’ve seen it out of its banks many times. I’ve also watched the New River creep up until finally it swallows the riverbank, and oozes out, wider, and wider onto the land.

In my new novel, The River Keeper, by the way this title is not set in stone. I’ve had two other titles popping into my head. Which one do you like? The River Keeper, Children of the River, or The River Children? Please let me know.

Anyway, in the book, my main character, a little girl named Callie is left alone after her family is swept away by a terrible ice damn break on the New River. She goes to live with her grandma, a lady she barely knows. Callie loves her Granny Jane, but she didn’t know she’d ever have to love her enough to live with her. In the story, the river and her missing family haunt Callie. But, she never blames the river.

Callie says, “I don’t know why people hate the river for flooding? Don’t reckon’ it’s the rivers fault. The rain and them frozen chunks of ice is what’s done made this river so raging mad.”

You know, Callie’s right. A river just rolls along peaceful as can be. Then one day the rain starts pouring and before the poor river knows it, it is out of its banks consuming everything it comes in contact with. Life is sort of like that. One day we are coasting along, not a bother in the world. The sun is shining. The birds are singing their song of joy. Then all of a sudden we get a bad report from a medical test, or hear of a loved one who is ill. Or maybe a terrible accident has claimed the life of a child.

In life there are no guarantees. Never once in all the pages of God’s Word does He tell us that living on this earth will be great all the time. I suppose I am kind of sad today. A schoolmate told me yesterday that Hospice told him he has from three to six weeks to live. Then I have a close friend whose sister is deathly ill. Plus, another friend is battling a mental issue that could be fatal, while yet another friend is trying to raise her nine-month-old grandson. Then, there is my dear friend that is plagued with the rigors of MS everyday.

Are these burdens that we feel for others like the rain, a gift or a curse? To be honest, for me they are a little of both. My heart aches for hurting people. Their misery sometimes creeps out of the confines of my being and floods my soul with sorrow. Most of the time I feel so helpless. Don’t you know Noah felt this way too? As God closed the door to the ark and all of mankind was shut out, don’t you wonder if Noah felt helpless? Don’t you think he felt sorry for those who were not allowed to enter the ark?

In this sad world of unbelievers I can only say to you: I am not a very righteous person like Noah was. I am just a pitiful sinner, washed in the blood of Christ. Saved by Grace. I will never live up to the standards of Jesus, but while I try, I’ll be praying for God’s mercy to wrap all of my friends and family up in His arms of comfort. To heal the ones that is in His will to heal, and to hold the others in His loving arms of peace and comfort.

On this side of Heaven we’ll never know how powerful our prayers are. Just like the mighty river cannot contain all the rain that sometimes pours into its banks, I too am filled. Prayers for the sick, suffering, and un-saved flow from me. No matter what we endure on this earth, the most important thing to be concerned about is at the end of your life will the door be slammed in your face? Or, will you be welcomed into eternity?

Genesis 7:1, 16

And the Lord said unto Noah, Come thou and all thy house into the ark; for thee have I seen righteous before me in this generation.

And they that went in, went in male and female of all flesh, as God had commanded him: and the Lord shut him in.

Picture note: The banks of the New River were running full this weekend, but my Granddaughter Emma caught two fish anyway. However she didn’t want to hold it, so her friend Kayli helped her out.

Friends and Festivals

This past weekend kicked off another fun-filled season of festivals in, and around my hometown of Elkin, North Carolina. After being mostly inside all winter, snuggled up to my computer it felt so, so, good to get out into the world. I felt like a caterpillar bursting forth from its cocoon. Now free to once again socialize, visit old friends, and meet new ones. If you know me you appreciate the fact that I’ve never met a stranger. I just simply love people. Though I must admit, some I can do without after the first encounter. For the most part I just enjoy getting to know a person.

At the Jonesville Jubilee in Jonesville, North Carolina, I was thrilled when some of my old friends dropped by to see me: Gloria and her mom, Tammy, Hal and Bonnie, and Billy and Lori, to mention a few. My very dear friend Dare would have been there, but she’s in the hospital. Please say a prayer for her.

Yes, it is hard work standing up all day attending festivals. Most of the time you’re either too hot or too cold. The wind is blowing all your stuff off the table, or the dark clouds overhead are threatening to poor out their bounty. At the end of the day I am hoarse from talking too much. And, my back and legs ache, but it is all worth it.

This year I am especially looking forward to seeing all my friends at the festivals. I finally have an answer when you ask me, when I’ll have a new book coming out. This fall! I’m also pretty excited about a children’s Christmas picture book that I’ve been working on for a few years.  Lord willing, and my illustrator comes through, I should be able to release it this fall also. I think I am more excited about this second and third book release than I was with my first one. I was scared to death a year and a half ago when I first held, Guardian Spirit in my hand. I thought, well, here it is. Now what do I do with it?

I’m not much wiser than I was then, but at least I’m not as scared. One of the biggest reasons is because I’ve got so many readers, friends, and family who encourage me and lift me up every day in one way or the other. You don’t know what a blessing you are when you come and want to talk to me, to share a thought or two about my writing, or, to ask my advice about something. Like I said before: I’m not much wiser, or smarter, than I was about all this book writing, publishing, editing stuff, but, if I can help in any way I’m more than happy to. Why? Because that’s what friends are for. If one falls down, a friend should be there to help him up.

Then there are the new friends I made this weekend, like Ann Black. I felt so privileged that she would share the details of her soon to be released novel with me. The story is about a woman in Yadkin County who had a lawsuit brought up against her in 1955 for practicing medicine without a license. There is so much more to her story, but I won’t spoil it for you. I will however let you know when it is released.

I also met another local author, Dr. S. Jason Couch. He has recently written and published a historical book called, Images of America, Elkin. He and his wife is such a nice couple. I enjoyed swapping publishing stories with Jason. If you haven’t seen Jason’s book, look it up on Amazon. You can purchase it online, or if you’re in Elkin, I’m sure Diana’s Bookstore stocks it, as well as Elk Pharmacy. If you’re from in or around Elkin the book is a must have.

As I wonder back through the years of my life I remember childhood chums. Some, who were once close, are now distant. And others who were only acquaintances are now cherished friends. I have found that some friends, are friends for life, and others are fair weather friends. But, a true friend is closer than a brother.

When I think of the word friend, so many faces flash through my mind. To try and name you all would be impossible. But, if you are one of the truly special people in my life you know who you are. And, I just want you to know how very blessed you make me feel. I pity the man who falls and has no one to help him up. And I also pity the man who has no one to share his joy, or sorrow with. Blessings to you all.

Ecclesiastes 4:9-10

Two are better than one, because they have a good return for their work; If one falls down, his friend can help him up. But pity the man who falls and has no one to help him up!

Footnote: You never know who might show up at a festival. Virginia Foxx attended The Jonesville Jubilee on May 5. I’m not much into politics, but Mrs. Foxx was nice enough to send me a congratulations letter when my first novel was released, and I really appreciate that.

Miracles?

Are miracles still taking place in this crazy, topsy-turvy world we live in? Yes, I believe they are.

What about the ability to get up in the mornings? Isn’t it a miracle the way blood pumps through our bodies, and our lungs retract and expand, pulling life-giving air into our being? Man can do lots of things, but he cannot create a living, breathing, spirit filled man, woman or child. If you still don’t believe in miracles think about this.

How did you feel the first time you held your newborn son or daughter? Amazed, scared, humbled? I know I was scared to death. Don’t you think the ability to bear children is a miracle in its self? Not to mention when grandchildren come along and they snuggle up to you during naptime or wrap their fist around your finger. At eight-years old my granddaughter Emma is all grown up. But, sometimes she forgets how big she is and will grab my hand as we are walking side by side. And when she spends the night, in sleep she’ll still snuggle up to me. These are the miracles that go unnoticed by many.

I also believe God is still in the healing business. Not just our sick, broken bodies, but also our spirit. God has given scientists and doctors the ability to transplant organs, to develop cancer fighting drugs, and medicine to prevent polio. Do you honestly think without God, our feeble minds could do all of that? A broken spirit can also be easily healed. All you have to do is pray and ask The Lord, and you’ll be soaring with the eagles. A spirit at peace is worth more than any material thing you’ll ever possess.

The above are some pretty profound miracles in my life. Then there are the miracles that happen when we selfishly pray for things that we really don’t need, but desperately want. A little over two years ago a publishing company contacted me about my novel, Guardian Spirit. I had sent them a query and they were asking me if they could publish my book. This was something I had prayed about for years, and now it was really going to happen. A miracle.

For those of you who know the publishing business you realize getting published by a traditional publishing house (that’s a publishing company that you don’t have to pay to get your book published) is pretty rare. That is unless you are already famous, or know somebody high up in one of the big New York City literary agencies. For me it seemed impossible.

Could this miracle happen twice in my lifetime? Yes, it could. This past Saturday I received a signed contract from, Ambassador International Publishing. The contract says that my next work, The Color of My Heart will be published sometime late this fall. A miracle? Yes it is.

We never know why some things happen. For lots of reasons, my first publisher, Lucky Press will not be publishing any more books, but God provided, and along came Ambassador International. I will forever be thankful to Lucky Press for believing in me and giving my work that first chance to be read by the world. I truly believe all things happen for a reason. Even when we think things are going badly, God has a plan.

This past year and a half has been some of the most challenging months of my life, but also the most rewarding. Why, because many years ago, God created a girl named Sarah. He had plans for her. Plans to prosper and do well. He had a plan to use her to spread His word.

Yes, God has preformed many miracles in my life. He lifted me up out of the churning waters of the Atlantic Ocean in 1978 and saved me from drowning. Why, because He had things for me to do. In my own strength I am no more than a weak kitten. But, with God’s grace anything is possible. All you have to do is believe and live in the shadow of the cross. Don’t let the miracles all around you go un-noticed and un-appreciated.

John 3:2

The same came to Jesus by night, and said unto him, Rabbi, we know that thou art a teacher come from God: for no man can do these miracles that thou doest, except God be with him.

Create. Is That All There Is To It?

I love the 1998 movie, Field of Dreams, which stars Kevin Costner. It has been a long time favorite of mine. It inspires a feeling of hope in me. Even after fourteen years the quote from the movie, “Build it, and they will come,” often rivets through my mind.

I have a tin ornament that hangs in front of me at my desk that my editor gave me for Christmas this past year. It has a picture painted on it of a lady with curled red hair, red lips, flashy dress and beads around her neck. It’s not really a true replica of me except for the red hair, because there’s not much flash in me. But, the words on the ornament say a lot about who I am. They read, “create” and “tell it.”

Our lives are sort of like the saying in that movie. If we don’t build it, or create it, they won’t come. If we never write the story, then there’s nothing for anyone to read. We all have hopes and dreams. Some of our visions are more far-fetched than others. But no matter how old we become we should keep the fires of creativity ignited within ourselves. As a writer I need to put words down on paper. I long to think of plots that have never been written, and put an unexpected twist to the tale.

I just finished a pretty good novel, but it was so predictable. I knew exactly what was going to happen from about a quarter of the way in, all the way to the finish. I suppose some would be disappointed without the expected; boy gets girl ending. I for one know love does not always have a rosy outcome. Life is not a fairy tale with a prince charming waiting to kiss away our tears. Even though I’ve been blessed in that department, it took a long time for my toad to turn into a prince.

One of the great parts of being an author is other writers ask you to read their work. In the past year or so I’ve had the opportunity to read three new manuscripts from locals. One was a how-to book, which was very entertaining because it was filled with humor. The next one was written by an old acquaintance. It was a pretty far out story about UFO’s and microchips implanted into fingers, giving people the capability to transfer themselves anywhere in the world. I’m not into that sort of thing, but here again, many people are. I saw a lot of potential in the man’s story.

This weekend I read another newly written book by a local. This man’s memoirs are hilarious. With all the mishaps he’s encountered in his life it’s a miracle he survived with only one missing toe. The book is really good, and hopefully he’ll find a market for it.

Each of these authors has asked me the same question: I’ve written this book, now what do I do with it? Great question. The first author decided to self-publish his how-to book. The second UFO guy is working with an editor, trying to polish his work and get it ready to send out to publishing companies. The third fellow will soon be stopping by to pick up his manuscript, and what will I tell him? First I’ll say: “You need an editor.”

No publishing company is going to take any of us seriously if we don’t send them a cleaned up product. It’s sort of like trying to sell a used car. Who wants to buy a vehicle that has visible defects? The windshield is cracked. The back bumper crushed. The battery is dead, and it needs new tires. The same goes for a manuscript. Are you going to send a publisher a story that is filled with mis-spelled words, punctuation errors, and run-on sentences and paragraphs? You might try, but you won’t get very far.

In this competitive business of publishing you have to shine yourself up. Polish the exterior and make sure the guts are running smoothly. A good story is the bottom line, but there are literally thousands of great stories being sent to publishing houses and agents every day. If an editor is turned off right away by errors, then they’ll never wade through the mistakes to read the end. There’s too much competition out there to just write your story and think: Since it’s written, they’ll come. Not going to happen.

Being an author starts with creating. Then, you refine the story. Take it up a notch or two during several re-writes. When you think spell check has caught all your errors you send it to your editor and then she’ll tear it to pieces.

If writing the story was all there was to it, then I’d have at least a dozen written by now. The whole process is time consuming and tedious. You have to have the patience of Job and the skin of an alligator. But there is one thing for sure: If you don’t write it, they won’t come. And if you don’t polish it, then it won’t shine.