Davalynn Spencer's Blog, page 17

How to Handle Faltering Faith

Davalynn Spencer @davalynnspencer

I am happy to welcome author Susan G. Mathis to my blog on this Memorial Day weekend. She survives her husband, Lt. Col. Dale Mathis who served in the United States Air Force 21 years and was a true officer and gentleman.

Susan is sharing a glimpse of her latest novel, Peyton’s Promise, from her award-winning Thousand Islands series – a collection of books that carries the reader back to the Gilded Age of wealthy island owners and the lives of their servants. Move over Downton Abbey.

Sometimes we find answers to our real-life questions while reading inspirational fiction. It’s the power of story. See what Susan has to say about one such problem.

~

In my latest novel, Peyton’s Promise, faltering faith is a main theme. Here’s an excerpt. I hope you’ll pick up a copy and enjoy the rest of the story.

Rachel smirked. “Back to Patrick. Just because he warns you about things and has opinions different from yours doesn’t mean you’re not a match. Proverbs tells us that iron sharpens iron. That’s what friends—and good marriages—are all about.”

Peyton tossed her a kind smile. “You appear to be too wise for your age, my friend.”

Rachel shrugged, and a comfortable silence filled the room.

Might she broach another topic? Why not? “Are you a person of faith, Rachel?”

Rachel beamed. “I am. It’s what carries me through even the darkest days and toughest times.”

Peyton’s heart raced, and tiny beads of perspiration formed on her brow. She swept them away with her sleeve. “My faith has faltered of late. I still believe, and I love God. But He seems so distant and silent.”

“But He’s always here, as close as your very breath—if you love Him and have given your heart and life to Him. The question is, have you stepped away from Him?”

Yes, she’d distanced herself from the Almighty, but how far? Too far? “When I was in Watertown, I was so busy, and all my friends and acquaintances there were not people of faith, so it just … slipped away. I stopped reading my Bible and only went to church on Christmas and Easter. But now, I’m wondering if that wasn’t folly.”

Rachel slipped out of bed and sat next to her. “We all have our seasons. When Papa died, I was so mad at God that I refused to touch the Bible and pasted my lips shut during church. I wouldn’t talk to Him for over a year. Even when Mother made us go to church, I recited poems in my head rather than hear about the God who took Papa from me. But then, I realized that was also folly. I told Him I was sorry, and He filled me with so much love and peace that I haven’t been the same since. He can do that for you too. You just have to ask.”

Peyton’s throat constricted. Her eyes pooled with sorrowful tears. Could Rachel be right? Could it be that simple?

~

ABOUT PEYTON’S PROMISE: 

Summer 1902

Peyton Quinn is tasked with preparing the grand Calumet Castle ballroom for a spectacular two-hundred-guest summer gala. As she works in a male-dominated position of upholsterer and fights for women’s equality, she’s persecuted for her unorthodox ways. But when her pyrotechnics-engineer father is seriously hurt, she takes over the plans for the fireworks display despite being socially ostracized.

Patrick Taylor, Calumet’s carpenter and Peyton’s childhood chum, hopes to win her heart, but her unconventional undertakings cause a rift. Peyton has to ignore the prejudices and persevere or she could lose her job, forfeit Patrick’s love and respect, and forever become the talk of local gossips.

 

ABOUT SUSAN:

Susan G Mathis is an international award-winning, multi-published author of stories set in the beautiful Thousand Islands, her childhood stomping ground in upstate NY. She has been published more than twenty times in full-length novels, novellas, and non-fiction books. Susan has seven in her fiction line including, The Fabric of Hope: An Irish Family Legacy, Christmas Charity, Katelyn’s Choice, Devyn’s Dilemma, Sara’s Surprise, Reagan’s Reward, and her newest, Colleen’s Confession. Peyton’s Promise and Rachel’s Reunion release in 2022 and she’s working on book ten. Her book awards include two Illumination Book Awards, three American Fiction Awards, two Indie Excellence Book Awards, and two Literary Titan Book Awards. Reagan’s Reward is a Selah Awards finalist.

Susan is also a published author of two premarital books, two children’s picture books, stories in a dozen compilations, and hundreds of published articles. Susan makes her home in Colorado Springs and enjoys traveling around the world but returns each summer to enjoy the Thousand Islands. Visit www.SusanGMathis.com/fiction for more.

 

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One Letter Can Make All the Difference

By Davalynn Spencer @davalynnspencer

As a writer, I spend a lot of time looking at words and how similar one can be to another, such as rapid and rabid. One letter can make all the difference.

In my novels, do characters whimper or whisper?

Do they pick up a glove or a globe?

In our daily lives, are we uniformed or uninformed?

Do we inhibit or inhabit?

Words are wiggly little things. The arrangement of letters can create quite a stir:

Compliant, complaint. Untied or united.

You may cringe at the middle school reminder of the “parts of speech,” but if you use a word as a verb (action word) it might also work as a noun (thing) in a different setting:

Time flies like an arrow; fruit flies like a banana.

Those little marks between the letters also have the ability to change the meaning of a sentence:

What do I have left to write? What do I have, left to right?

Woman without her man is nothing.

Woman: without her, man is nothing.

So often, it is the small, seemingly insignificant thing that makes a huge difference in our world.

Do you ever feel that you are small and insignificant in God’s view? Do you see yourself as unimportant in the scheme of life? You may feel inconsequential, but you’re not. You make more of a difference than you think.

How would someone lift food to his mouth without an elbow? How would someone run a race without a knee? Balance without toes?

Never underestimate the call of God on your life. He has a purpose for each and every one of us. Get close enough to Him to find out what it is, quiet enough to hear His voice.

He will tell you.

And remember, it’s a very small mark on the paper that makes the difference between a lie and a life.

He told them another parable:
“The kingdom of heaven is like a mustard seed,
which a man took and planted in his field.
Though it is the smallest of all seeds, yet when it grows,
it is the largest of garden plants and becomes a tree,
so that the birds come and perch in its branches.”
Matthew 13:31-32

Make all the difference.
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“Please forgive my forwardness in light of William’s recent home-going,” the parson said, “but this enquiry came to me early last fall, and ever since William’s service, you have come to mind each time I’ve run across it in my desk.”

He held out the folded paper.

Etta stared at it as if it were a snake coiled to strike. Another debt of William’s?

He inched it closer. “If you don’t mind, I’d like you to read it while I wait so we can discuss it.”

More money lenders or creditors? She could not bear another burden, regardless how small or insignificant. Mindful of the slight tremor in her hand, she took the letter and quickly pressed it against her lap. “If this is another of William’s financial indiscretions, I simply—”

“Please, Mrs. Collier.” The parson leaned forward in his chair, compassion softening his features. “Just read it.” ~Mail-order Misfire

 

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The Seeds of Creation

By Davalynn Spencer @davalynnspencer

It’s so easy to take certain things for granted when we’ve never known anything else. Like creation.

Everything God started “in the beginning” continues today.

The seed from the first tree and flower has reproduced kind after its kind over the millennia.

The light that radiated into the darkness continues to hold back that darkness.

And the breath that first passed from God to man finds its way to the lungs of each newborn child.

As eternal as God’s handiwork, so too are the seeds of His word. Perhaps as children we first heard of Jesus, yet years later, that truth can stir in our heart, springing up with hope, direction, and comfort.

The light of creation still shines.

The seeds of creation still grow.

The breath of God still breathes.

The blood of Jesus still cleanses.

I take great comfort in knowing that God is not changeable, that what He began goes on.

All things continue
just as they were from
the beginning of creation.
2 Peter 3:4

~

The seeds of creation still grow.
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Since boyhood, he’d had a need to see the sun break over the hills, watch it bleed fire across the mountains and leak down into the valleys and parks. But this morning, a flame curled in his chest, flickering stronger as dawn chased the shadows. He rubbed a spot beneath his vest, a familiar burn, the longing he thought he’d broke with for good. ~A Change of Scenery

 

 

 

 

 

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Mom-Care

By Davalynn Spencer @davalynnspencer

What is it about a mother that makes her do things for her children all the time? Even when no one knows—especially her children.

I believe it’s the God-gene in her—not in a scientific, physiological sense, but in a spiritual sense. God’s fingerprint is on His creation. He breathed the breath of life into Adam from whom He created a woman. Adam named her Eve because she was the mother of all living.

Of course it’s a God thing.

Who else would go through pain for our deliverance? Who else would give without thanks and then give again anyway? Who else would say, “I’ll take care of you,” and then do it even when we’re not looking?

There’s a little crossover between Mom-care and God-care. Psalm 121:7 tells me the Lord will keep me safe and watch over me, and He does it all the time. Even when I don’t know it.

The day an auto-service technician called me out to my car to show me the split rubber on the inside of the left front tire, I remembered that verse. The left front tire is the closest to oncoming traffic. All the other tires on my car were in good shape. There was an imbalance somewhere, a misalignment that I didn’t know about.

The fix was easy, but the damages could have been horrific.

This was not the first time the Lord had watched over my life, nor will it be the last. I often see Mom-care in His protection, just as I saw God-care in the mother I remember.

“Love Jesus more than anyone, even me,” she often said.

That’s the best advice I’ve ever been given.

Thanks, Mom.

Thank You, Lord, for a mother who loved You and taught me about Your faithfulness. Help me teach it to my own children and to others with whom I come in contact. Amen.

“The LORD shall preserve your going out and your coming in
from this time forth, and even forevermore.”
Psalm 121:8

      *From Day Forty-Five, MOM-CARE, in Always Before Me – 90 Story-Devotions for Women

 

 

 

 

 

 

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On My Own

By Davalynn Spencer @davalynnspencer

When my youngest granddaughter was a toddler, I watched her one day each week. She slowed me down, thank God.

She drew my focus to tiny hands, the floor I thought was clean, the lower shelves of my bookcase. She forced me to look at things from a different perspective. And she demonstrated a reckless determination.

As a new walker, she fell on her padded bottom countless times. Toddling around the house much faster than she should have, she would trip over a loose throw rug or a toy she didn’t see. And she repeatedly snagged her chubby feet on the corner of the blanket she insisted on dragging, much like the Peanuts’ character, Linus.

But she never gave up. She just kept getting up.

I am a lot like my granddaughter.

How often do I charge straight ahead without looking where I’m going? How many times have I tripped over an unnoticed obstacle and fallen spiritually or emotionally?

I don’t get up as quickly as she did. Sometimes I just lie there for a minute and moan. After all, my landing spot is a little farther away for me than it was for her.

However, I too have someone watching over me, checking things out from my perspective, understanding exactly what it’s like to be in my shoes—or bare feet. And He loves me even more than I love my granddaughter. Hard to imagine, isn’t it?

When I’d pick up that little bundle of wiggles to comfort her or listen to her frustrated, evolving language, I was reminded that the Lord does the same for me. I’m not really *on my own.

Oh God, how faithful You are to pick me up and comfort me, no matter how many times I stumble. Help me always remember to run to You when I fall. Amen.

“As one whom his mother comforts,
so I will comfort you.”
Isaiah 66:13

*From Day Sixty-Nine in Always Before Me – 90 Story-Devotions for Women

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For the Journey – Always Before Me

By Davalynn Spencer @davalynnspencer

The psalmist wrote:

“I have set the Lord always before me;
because He is at my right hand, I will not be moved”
(Psalm 16:8).

With God as his focus and companion, the psalm-singer knew he would not be shaken off his path.

This scripture has been a life verse for me, and it titled a thirty-day devotional book that released ten years ago. Since then, many readers have asked for more of the story-devotions that I love writing in this blog, for The Upper Room, The Quiet Hour, Guideposts publications, and elsewhere.

At last, the second edition of Always Before Me is available with ninety devotions – three months’ worth of brief, daily inspiration that includes the original thirty.

We each walk a path. God knows the many things we do and He is willing to meet us in every situation. Always Before Me is a simple observance of how He does that, and how He speaks to us through our daily circumstances and ordinary surroundings.

The book’s subtitle addresses women, but men have also enjoyed the writings. However, with Mother’s Day approaching, this devotional could offer encouragement to a mother, grandmother, aunt, or daughter. Think about the women in your life who have given you motherly treasures. They may not be your mom, but you can thank them for their encouragement, council, and direction by giving them a timely companion for the journey.

Always Before Me is perfect for personal quiet time. If you are interested in securing a copy, do so now while it is offered at a special release discount. The price increases May 1.

I pray that you will set the Lord always before you. And may all that you read be uplifting.

~

For the Journey
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Always Before Me – 90 Story Devotions for Women

When my husband and I were first married, we had a two-in-one flashlight. It was equipped with the standard high-beam light that shone from one end like most models, but it also had a softer, more radiant light that spread from a second bulb along the top.

One evening I took the flashlight outside for a trek to the barn. The standard beam lit the path ahead, punching through the dark toward my destination. I switched to the second light and it illuminated my steps and the area right around me, spreading into the shadows on either side. But I couldn’t have both lights on at the same time. I had to choose one or the other.

As I walked, a familiar verse from the Psalms came to mind: “Your word is a lamp to my feet and a light for my path” (Psalm 119:105). Suddenly, I understood the metaphor.

God’s wisdom shows me the path ahead as well as the ground beneath my feet. It is not limited like my hand-held flashlight that required an either-or choice. His Word sheds the light of understanding in both ways at the same time. His Word is indeed a lamp to my feet and a light to my path.

The Psalms also tell us, “You, LORD, keep my lamp burning; my God turns my darkness into light” (Psalm 18:28 NIV).

That’s exactly what I need in this life of unforeseen obstacles and sudden shadows—a never-failing power source that faithfully shows me the way to go and how to get there.

The Lord’s light cuts through my darkness, and the lamp of His love envelops me with the comfort of His presence.

Thank You, Lord, that there is no darkness in You, that Your light directs our steps. Amen. 

From Always Before Me, Day Six

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WANTED: Jesus of Nazareth

By Davalynn Spencer @davalynnspencer

Slip out of time with me—more than 2,000 years back—and consider:

Jesus was dead. Crucifixion will do that to a person.

But all things are possible, right? Isn’t that what the angel told Jesus’ mother thirty-three years earlier? Clearly, she believed and proved it to be true when she conceived the Word and bore a child.

So imagine how thrilled she must have been when her boy made wine spill from water jars, and blind men blink at the light, and crippled children dance. She must have thought, Yes! when he rode into town through cheering crowds spreading cloaks and palm branches in his path. 

All things really are possible!

Yet, what did she think a week later on a hill outside Jerusalem where a Roman cross bore her babe, and his hands spilled blood, and demons danced? 

Oh God, this can’t be happening!

Was his death the finale of her faith?

What of the promise?

What of the miracles?

What of that great, cheering crowd?

So now—today, in this century—will we accuse this woman of weak and trembling faith while we raise the same complaint during our darkest days of entombment?

“Everything was going so well.”

“I was so close to victory!”

“Did I miss God?”

For his mother, the third day dawned. Morning, men, and Mary Magdalene found the tomb empty. Jesus’s body was gone—walking gone. Instilled anew with breathing life.

Those who saw him would not have risked their reputations to promote a hoax.

They would not have risked their lives for a fable.

They would not have risked the faith of their Jewish forefathers for anything less than the promised Messiah—the risen Savior of all who believe.

Neither would his mother, the one who believed before his birth. Before his conception.

Jesus lives and because of that, so can we. Death is not the final word. Death does not win.

Indeed, all things are possible.

And we, like his mother and others across the ages, cry, “Jesus is alive!”

Crucifixion will do that.
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Like every sunrise before, it drew him. They always had, though he didn’t know why. He dipped his head until his hat brim cut the line where sky met land. And at the moment white light broke the edge, the blister in his soul split open with the sound of his mother’s voice.

He’s faithful, Clay. Look at that sunrise, so fresh and perfect. It’s His mercy, brand new every morning.

The pain sent Clay to his knees, and he clutched at his chest. Lanced by forgotten words, the blister drained through every pore and ran down his face like acid.

All these years he’d hidden from the memory, the loss, the tenderness of his mother’s voice. It wasn’t worth the impossible price it cost him to remember. Yet she’d drawn him without his knowledge. He could no more break his connection to her than he could his connection to dawn.

“Oh, God.” His voice came strange, strangled. Breath burned his lungs as if it were his first and last. He suddenly understood the source of earlier thoughts—of the dog, the knoll.

The recognition of God’s presence in that storm shattered Clay to the core.

“You told me where to look.”

Another gasp, tight and searing. “You found the boy. Because You love him.”

He dropped back on his boot heels, squinting against the blinding light reflecting from every ice crystal for miles around, stunned by the beauty, but more so by a truth that far out-weighed all the unanswered whys of his life.

“You found me.”

~An Impossible Price    Winner of 2021 American Fiction Award for Best Western Book

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Would Jesus Have Social Media Accounts?

By Davalynn Spencer @davalynnspencer

Would Jesus have social media accounts?

I believe He would.

In first-century Palestine, Jesus participated in the social medium of the day: itinerant teaching. From hillsides, roadsides, tables, and wells He met the people where they were, where they were looking, and where they needed Him—face to face.

Were there other traveling teachers doing the same thing with, perhaps, less than the purest of motives? Of course. There have always been counterfeits, knockoffs, and wannabes, but they have never kept the Real Deal from being the Real Deal.

From the Road to Emmaus to the Information Highway, Jesus has been there and still is. He has truth to give to those who are hungry, thirsty, and looking. He is that truth.

Log on. I’m sure He’d like to meet you.

And by the way, I’ve heard He thinks you’re to die for.

~

For more information about Jesus, who He is and who He could be to you, see a little book in the New Testament called John, chapter 8, verse 12.

Would Jesus have social media accounts?
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He thinks you're to die for.
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On the last day, the climax of the festival, Jesus stood and shouted to the crowds,

“Anyone who is thirsty may come to me! Anyone who believes in me may come and drink!

For the Scriptures declare, ‘Rivers of living water will flow from his heart.'” ~John 7:37-38 NLT

 

 

 

 

 

 

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Many Happy Returns – 10 Tips for A Happy Birthday

By Davalynn Spencer @davalynnspencer

I thought “returns” were things you took back to a store because they weren’t what you expected or because they were defective. Even online marketing mentions “free returns.”

But that’s not what “many happy returns” is talking about. The short phrase derives from a longer expression originating in the 1700s – “Many happy returns of the day.” Essentially it meant, “Hope this day comes around for you again and again.”

Modern usage of  “many happy returns” has been reserved for birthdays – those mile markers you can’t return or exchange.

Along the way, I’ve picked up a few tips for enjoying a happy birthday, and since this is my month to celebrate, I’m sharing those tips with you. Here’s hoping your “many happy returns” will be truly happy, regardless of how many you’d like to return.

10 Tips for A Happy Birthday

1. Don’t weigh yourself on your birthday. It’s depressing and you shouldn’t be depressed on your birthday.

2. Do not shop for a swimsuit on your birthday. See number 1.

3. Do not diet. Never eat diet food on your birthday. Eat whatever you are hungry for, which is usually cake and ice cream.

4. Do not eat the candles on the cake (if you get one). Wax sticks between your teeth and makes it look like you ate the candles on your cake.                                          

5. Do not expect people to remember your birthday. You are not Viggo Mortensen, a former first lady, or a prime minister. This means your spouse, children, parents, siblings, and co-workers may not remember. Yes, it is wonderful if they do, but don’t let their forgetfulness grab you by the throat, because when they forget (and some or all of them will) the unmet expectation will drag you down. Instead try one of the remaining five tips.

6. Send a card to someone you know with the same birth month.

7. Find someone with a need that you can meet and meet it – like a stay-at-home mother of small children who could use an afternoon off. Deliver groceries or do a chore for someone who has trouble getting around.

8. Donate your age in food by weight or dollar value to a local shelter.                   

9. Donate your age in money to the pregnancy center or other charitable organization.

10. Smile. Be grateful that you are under the sky and above the grass. Thank God for another year, day, hour, and breath. Some people would have given anything for just one more.

In everything give thanks;
for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus for you.
1 Thessalonians 5:18

10 tips for a happy birthday
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   Her offer became more appealing as he tallied all the things he did himself besides work the ranch.
   “Can you ride?”
   She blinked up at him. Then again.
   His answer, but he asked again anyway. “Can you horseback?”
   Her chin rose higher. “I can learn.”
   He held in a snort. She’d not answered him directly, but she’d not lied either. “This business proposition—what’s in it for you?”
   At that she stood, and he noticed for the first time that she had no lady’s handbag. No satchel.    Her hands smoothed the sides of her suit, dark brown like his bay gelding tied near Reiker’s old wagon. A rip in her collar bore witness to the brooch she’d thrown at the gunman.
   He saw it now—her desperation.
   “A home and respectability. Safety.” Her color heightened and she lowered her gaze and her voice. “I have seen my twentieth birthday—plus a few—so if I do not appeal to you, we can live as man and wife in name only.”
   Plus a few? He’d wager one, maybe two. Nearly a decade stood between them, a surprising discovery since her dead groom had been closer to forty.
   “I have no expectations,” she added, “other than if you are not satisfied with my help and companionship, you send me away with enough funds for lodging until I can find employment elsewhere. You have my word that I shall repay you every penny.” ~An Improper Proposal

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Getting from Here to There

By Davalynn Spencer @davalynnspencer

“Transition” is not one of my favorite words. It implies hard work, change, letting go of the familiar, and heading into the unknown. It takes a person from what was to what will be and often involves pain. Biological mothers everywhere know exactly what I’m talking about.

So do daddies watching daughters glide down the aisle in white dresses, and employees leaving the nest of comfort on the wings of promotion.

As a novelist, I face transition in nearly every scene. How does Fernando get from his Ford and into his front room? How does Paula get from dinners for one to picnics in the park for two? Transition.

And how do winter cookie-eaters get from their sweatpants into their summer swimsuits? They call a personal trainer.

My son worked as a personal trainer for several years. He helped people change. He taught them how to go from pudgy to perfect, and he even used special exercises called—you guessed it—transitional exercises.

For example, if a client was working muscle set A, and wanted to move to muscle set B, my son took them from an exercise for set A, into an exercise that used both set A and B, and then into one that used only set B. Sounds logical, but it’s hard work

Transition is everywhere. We can’t get away from it, and we shouldn’t want to. The push from here to there keeps us moving forward. It squeezes life from boney winter branches into new spring buds and strengthens the flabby muscles of inactive dessert lovers.

Spiritual transition isn’t easy either, but we have Someone who promises to get us through it. As we take those first steps toward peace and balance, we can look to the God who knows what’s coming and trust Him to take care of us along the way.

It’s never too late for a new you.

Behold, I make all things new.
Rev. 21:5

~

Getting from here to there.
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She peeked around the horse’s muzzle. Perceptive, this earthy rancher. Unexpectedly so, in light of their first frenzied meeting. Hope and doubt nibbled two corners of her heart. In this setting, with this gentle horse, dare she reach again for what had once been a passion? She could certainly testify to the animal’s faithfulness. And to its owner’s.

She drew her hand back and folded her arms. It’d been nearly a year and a half since she’d ridden. And fifteen long, frustrating months of fighting pain and sorrow in equal portions. She’d endured countless doctor’s visits and recuperative exercises, yet her strength had not returned to its former proportions. She’d be a fool to try.

More than her thigh muscle had torn. More than her femur had broken. She’d lost a great portion of her heart as well. The dread of losing her bearings if she remained an invalid in her father’s home had driven her to this job with Selig Polyscope. The bold move was her bid for freedom and forgetfulness.

But a third, uninvited element quashed her hope. Stark fear shot to her throat with a twist. She couldn’t take such a chance in spite of this cowboy’s proven ability and offer to help her ride. Regardless of his sky-blue promise to—again—keep her from harm, how could she trust him? ~A Change of Scenery

 

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