Davalynn Spencer's Blog, page 19

Share the Love

By Davalynn Spencer @davalynnspencer

Romantic love is celebrated on Valentine’s Day, February 14, in North America and in many countries around the *world. With unclear *origins, a great deal has been written about the observance.

However, there is much more to love, and other languages, particularly Greek, have different terms for various kinds of love.

Today I am letting love speak for itself through a few famous and not-so-famous quotes. And you are invited to “share the love” as well.

Comment below with your favorite word on love and be entered in a drawing for a signed copy of my best-selling novel, An Improper Proposal.

Love Quotes:

In human beings,
love is a quality, a high-prized virtue:
in God, love is His identity.
-Brennan Manning

Now hope does not disappoint,
because the love of God
has been poured out
in our hearts by the Holy Spirit
who was given to us.
Romans 5:5

In loving me, You made me lovable.
–St. Augustine (fifth century)

God so loved the world
that He gave.
-Jesus

Love is not affectionate feeling,
but a steady wish for the loved person’s ultimate good
as far as it can be obtained.
-C.S. Lewis

Greater love has no man than this –
that a man would lay down his life
for his friends.
-Jesus

Darkness cannot drive out darkness:
only light can do that.
Hate cannot drive out hate:
only love can do that.
-Martin Luther King Jr.

The opposite of love is not hate, it’s indifference.
The opposite of art is not ugliness, it’s indifference.
The opposite of faith is not heresy, it’s indifference.
And the opposite of life is not death, it’s indifference.
-Elie Wiesel

Let your roots go down deep
into the soil of God’s marvelous love.
Ephesians. 3:17

Do not waste time bothering whether
 you “love” your neighbor; act as if you did.
As soon as we do this, we find one of the great secrets.
When you are behaving as if you loved someone
you will presently come to love him.
-C.S. Lewis

You have not chosen me;
 I have chosen you.
-Jesus

All you need is love.
But a little chocolate
now and then doesn’t hurt.
-Charlie Brown

Share the love.
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*Valentine’s Day Around the World

History of *Valentine’s Day

Cade raked through his memory for the exact wording of Mae Ann’s proposition:

If I do not appeal to you, we can live as man and wife in name only.

Appeal to him? Lord have mercy on his stubborn soul. No woman had ever appealed to him like Mae Ann. But he sure enough hadn’t told her in so many words.

He looked down at his feet and wiggled his toes in the soft comfort of his moccasins, recalling other aspects of their agreement. Something about sending her away if he wasn’t satisfied with her help. A groan rolled up from his chest and he let it out on the cool air.

He was a coward. That was all there was to it. He’d given his heart to Alexandra, and she’d tossed it aside as soon as a better option came along. Now he was afraid to make the same mistake again.

A second groan followed the first. Life had become more than just cows and grass and rustlers since Mae Ann came, but what if she wasn’t willing to return his affection?

Confound it all, he’d rather face a rattler bare-handed than be rejected by another woman.

But she’d brought his moccasins.

He plowed through his hair, digging deep for a clear thought as the sun slipped behind the mountains. If he didn’t tell her how he felt, he might lose his mind. And what good was a heart without a mind to follow it? ~An Improper Proposal

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How Small a Whisper

By Davalynn Spencer @davalynnspencer

The man named Job spent a great deal of time observing God through His handiwork and had some interesting things to say about the Creator.

In chapter 26 of his ancient book, we find one of Job’s lists of God’s amazing deeds and attributes (vs 6-13) followed by Job’s understandable awe:

“These are the mere edges of His ways,
and how small a whisper we hear of Him!
But the thunder of His power, who can understand?”
Job 26:14

The “edges of His ways” suggests that we see just the fringe of what God can do. When we marvel over a beautiful sunrise, how much greater a spectacle can He produce?

When we read of the spectrum between His whisper and the “thunder of His power,” we catch a glimpse of strength under control. Might that is managed. Greatness that is gentle.

I’m glad God whispers. What if He spoke to us by the “thunder of His power”?

The prophet Elijah (I Kings 19:9-18) experienced that thunder in crushing wind, a frightful earthquake, and consuming fire. But then came the whisper – a sound he could approach – and he knew it was God.

So why so you suppose God merely whispers to us? Could it be because He is that close?

God wants us to approach Him, so He whispers. That whisper requires that we turn off the noise. Stop talking, fine-tune our hearing, and listen for His voice.

Maybe we’ll hear it in the next sunrise. Or in the falling snow, or in a sleeping baby’s sigh.

Thank God for His intimacy. He knows us, He hears us. He is that close.

So close that if we wait, we might feel His breath on our hair and His whisper in our heart.

~

How small a whisper.
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Elizabeth wrapped her arms around herself to keep from breaking apart and tipped her head back, standing soul-naked in the night.

“Oh, God.” Her voice squeezed up and floated out to the countless stars. “Oh, God, help me. I’ve deceived others and myself as well.”

A light breeze brushed against her, and with it came the aroma of someone’s supper—evidence of home and family and togetherness. All the things she longed for that seemed as far from her reach as the sparkling Dipper.

Slowly, another essence whispered through the cupola. Nearly unnoticeable at first, it grew with soothing warmth, washing over her bare soul, her past mistakes. 

Come, Thou fount…

Not her mother’s voice this time, but her own—small and thin and bleeding. “Oh, to grace how great a debtor, daily I’m constrained to be.”

The words came with new meaning, not just words to a song, but words for her life. Unexpected and full of peace.

“Praise the mount! I’m fixed upon it. Mount of Thy redeeming love.” ~An Unexpected Redemption    Winner of the American Fiction Awards

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The Cat Who Came In From the Cold … for a while

By Davalynn Spencer @davalynnspencer

Imagine my surprise when I walked into my attached garage one morning and found the remains of the mini-blinds on the only window in there.

I didn’t know cats could do such damage.

Apparently, they can. Especially if they are feral and resent the ONE time you blocked their exit after they came in the previous night to eat-and-run.

This particular cat is a pretty little tortie (tortoise-shell markings) who showed up last summer with three kittens. We trapped mama and her babies, changed mama’s mind about having more babies in the future, and found homes for the friendly not-yet-feral kitties.

Mama came back here. I call her Annie. She shows up in the morning and evening for breakfast and dinner, but the rest of the time she is very independent. I can’t touch her, can’t even get close to her. But she “talks” to me and likes to hang around when I’m outside.

At first, I fed her near the blue spruce where she hid from the heat. Over the months, I moved the food dish closer to the garage, and eventually inside the garage and up on top of the dryer.

Next, I started working with her on the kitty door (the raccoons figured it out on their own, but that’s another story). Now she comes and goes when she pleases.

When I blocked her exit, she took her frustration out on the mini blinds, didn’t eat a bite, and sat up by the window “yelling” at me every time I entered the garage.

I was hoping she would see what great accommodations I offer: Unlimited food and water, warmth when it’s cold or snowy, and two soft beds from which to choose, both up high with unobstructed views.

Coyotes lurk in the area. Sub-zero temperatures make for brittle winter nights. Rain is wet and wind is tiring. Always hiding gets old.

I wanted her to realize what a great thing it would be to become my cat. My garage and its easy access could be cat heaven, right?

Wrong. The exit is no longer blocked, but she doesn’t spend the nights or cold days inside. 

I’ve done everything I can to convince her of my affection other than become a cat myself. How else can I explain to her that I like her and want her to have a better life?

But it’s her choice.

Some people – er, cats – just don’t get it, do they?

~

I am the door.
If anyone enters by Me, he will be saved,
and will go in and out and find pasture.
John 10:9

They just don't get it, do they?
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Storm clouds rolled off the mountains, flirting with the rangeland. Clay unsaddled Duster, left the gelding in the barn, and brought the milk cow in as well.

The stallion had worn a path around the inside of the round pen, and Clay slipped through the poles, a cotton lead behind his back. Voice low, he moved toward the center, unhurried but confident. “You want out of here, don’t ya boy?”

Head up, tail flicking, the bay pranced the perimeter, nostrils flaring, one ear swiveling toward Clay and the other toward a sassy white mare a pasture length away. Thunder rolled in the distance.

“Got a big box stall for you and that gal you got your eye on.”

The stallion blew and tossed his head, made another trip around the corral but in a tighter circle, closer to the center.

Clay waited, murmuring low and steady, showing the horse there was nothing to fear.

A couple more trips, and it stopped beside him, eyeballing him, flicking those ears.

Clay held out his empty hand. “Come on, fella. Let’s get in out of the rain. It’s fixin’ to cut loose here any minute.” He slid his hand along the bay’s neck, and its skin quivered at his touch. He stepped closer, his tone easy and calm as he clipped the lead on the headstall, leaving plenty of slack.

Another head-toss but no fight, for there was no constraint. Within minutes, the stallion followed Clay through the gate and into the barn.

After settling the horse in the biggest stall with hay and water in opposite corners, Clay screwed his hat down and picked up two more leads. The smell of rain hung heavy, and thunder growled closer as the storm crawled toward the ranch … ~An Impossible Price, winner of the American Fiction Awards for best Western novel.

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A Reminder that God is There

By Davalynn Spencer @davalynnspencer

The doorbell rang.

When I answered it, a friendly young man greeted me from a company I have done business with for several years.

After leaving his delivery, he mentioned the deer in my driveway and yard. He had encountered several on the roads in town, as does everyone who lives here, but he hadn’t been close to one.

For some reason, “my” deer gave him pause and we chatted for several minutes about how beautiful they were.

He turned back down the walkway and just as he got to his van said, “I needed to see animals today.”

His comment was one of the strangest I’ve heard.

Why did he need to see animals?

What had his day been like?

Was he battling discouragement? Disappointment, depression?

Did he live so detached from nature that he had forgotten there is more to life than earbuds, downloads, computerized schedules, and delivery routes?

Something about the wildlife touched him and he recognized its affect.

We never know what is going on in someone else’s life – what struggles they face, whether despair dogs their steps. Do they need a reminder that God is there and cares about them? Do they need a reminder that God even exists?

Our choice of words, decision to smile, or determination to look them in the eye and not be in a hurry could make a big difference.

It doesn’t take much to lift someone’s spirit. Let’s not overlook any opportunity.

Even if it’s merely observing one of God’s amazing creatures in our yard.

For You, LORD, have made me glad through Your work;
I will triumph in the works of Your hands.
Psalm 92:4 NKJV 

~

The doorbell rang.
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“Please be seated.” The pastor met Haskell’s eye and tipped his head in acknowledgment. A small russet-haired woman delayed seating herself and looked toward the back where he stood. Her shy smile pinned him to the wall as certain as a sharp shooter’s trigger finger.

The man to his right grunted and slapped his hat against his leg. Haskell hadn’t met him, but something about him felt familiar. His slight frame, an impatient air bordering on disrespect. Haskell ran his hand through his hair and cut a side glance. A smirk curled the younger’s man’s lip. Had he thought Martha smiled at him?

Maybe she had. The idea sobered Haskell and he pushed his shoulders back, straightened his stance.

“What is faith?” The preacher’s voice reached all the way to the back of the cramped room, louder than Haskell had heard him before.

“Some say it’s trust. Others say it’s hogwash.”

Several parishioners tsked and others snickered at the remark. In the few sermons Haskell had heard, the preachers hadn’t used such common language. Maybe he’d been missing out all these years.

“Doesn’t matter what some folks say. It matters what God says. And he’s told us in the letter to the Romans that faith is the essence of what we hope for and evidence of what we can’t see.”

Haskell’s attention homed in on the preacher.

“Faith is knowing. It’s banking on what God tells us. It’s proof of the invisible—like Him. We don’t see God Himself, but we can see His handiwork around us and His love in our families and neighbors. We know He’s with us.” ~ Romancing the Widow

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Just Add Water

By Davalynn Spencer @davalynnspencer

At Christmas I became the hesitant owner of a Paperwhite Narcissus Bulb Kit – Ziva. Hesitant because things looked pretty barren in that mostly empty box. However, it was worth trying if success meant the heady perfume I associate with narcissi.

According to the Growing Instructions, I was to “place the media disc into the pot and add warm water” – between 2 and 2 ½ cups for the media disc to expand.

Let me tell you, media disc is not what it sounds like. This was not a DVD or CD, but a 1-inch-thick, hard-packed dry piece of something that looked like dirt but wasn’t.

I wish I had photographed it before and after. I placed the disc in the pot, added water, turned around to do something else, and turned back around to see the five-inch pot full of … *media.

Full, as in over the top. Nearly miraculous. I felt like someone had sneaked up behind me when I wasn’t looking and filled the pot.

For many of you, this kit procedure is a common occurrence. You’ve done this every year for decades. For me, however it was a new experience.

Next, I planted the bulbs, left the tops showing, put the pot in a cool place (the back bedroom) for ten days and let it root. After ten days, I moved it to the dining room and watered it with the rest of my plants.

Five days later, I took the picture on the left. Three days after that, I took the picture on the right. By next week, it may reach the ceiling.

The point is, I just added water.

It doesn’t get much easier than that.

The phrase “just add water” has been used for years as a selling point for packaged mixes, soups, and other “instant” foods. But seeing this sudden transformation helped me realize the same can be said of us.

When we “just add water” that Jesus offers, our dry dormant selves expand and grow into what they were created to be.

And if we continue to add His water of Life, we’ll bloom into perfume-bearing believers that will bless others.

Sweet!

~

But those who drink the water I give
will never be thirsty again.
It becomes a fresh, bubbling spring within them,
giving them eternal life.”
John 4:14 NLT

Now he uses us to spread the knowledge of Christ everywhere,
like a sweet perfume. 
2 Corinthians 2:14

Just add water.
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That evening, Ella sank into the copper tub until her shoulders slipped beneath the silky water and her bobbed hair teased its surface. She had not expected such luxury so far from Denver, particularly the Hotel Denton’s running cold and hot water. Steam coated the gilded mirror on the wall next to the tub, obscuring her reflected image and confirming her over-indulgence.

She toed the lever, sighing as warmth swirled beneath her legs and back. After a day of stumbling around boulders at Grape Creek and tripping on loose, flaky rock the locals called shale, she wanted nothing more than to stay in the tub all night.

Her leg ached. Her heart ached. All of her ached, but the heat was helping—exactly what she’d heard about the Hot Springs Hotel. Evidently people came from far and wide for the springs’ curative powers. But if she wanted to take the waters there, she’d have to hire a hack or entrust herself to an unknown local automobile driver.

Her shudder sent ripples dancing across the water. ~A Change of Scenery

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For more about the narcissi, click on this fragrance link.

*media   2. the intervening substance through which impressions are conveyed to the senses or a force that acts on objects at a distance; the substance in which an organism lives or is cultured.

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Live at the Speed of Life

By Davalynn Spencer @davalynnspencer

A new year. A new month. A new week.

Do you ever get the feeling that you have to gear up and get a jump on things? Get a head start?

But a head start on what? Anxiety, stress, over-achieving? Completing that to-do list at the speed of light?

Our lives are fast paced, weighed down, and packed with expectations, demands, and duties. Yet God says, “Be still.”

Why does He say that?

And how can we do it?

I find help when I look at nature. The birds aren’t in a hurry. Neither is the buck that lingers around my home because a certain doe beds down here at night.

The sun doesn’t race across the sky. The stars and moon hang still against the inky night. Yes, they appear to move as our earth spins and orbits, but at a nearly imperceptible speed.

Consider the common phrases “slow down” and “speed up.” Do we subconsciously prefer the metaphorical up over down?

Lately I have heard the Lord’s whisper, “Live at the speed of life.”

That concept appeals to me. Hurry has become a habit. I wasn’t created to live at the speed of light, which is what I habitually try to do.

When I ask, the Lord helps me gear down and draw a calm breath. He helps me find the pace that keeps me in step with Him.

Even if that step is one upon which I sit and wait.

Be still, and know that I am God;
I will be exalted among the nations,
I will be exalted in the earth.
Psalm 46:10

~

Live at the speed of life.
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By midafternoon they were home, Ara’s arms full of bundled fabric and ribbon as she stepped through the front door of the sprawling log house.

“Back here.” Lilly called from her room—a room Ara had never entered. She stopped at the threshold, awed by the paintings. In one, a woman and child stood in a meadow, and in another a small dark-haired girl sat in a swing beneath a large tree. Ara’s heart broke with sudden memories of hushed words and shadowed smiles. Swallowing an ache, she stepped into the room.

Lilly looked up from her treadle sewing machine and caught Ara’s expression. “Her name was Emily. Such a delicate thing.” She set aside her sewing. “These paintings are how I imagine she would have looked had she survived that first hard winter.”

“I’m so sorry,” Ara whispered.

Lilly pressed her palm to her heart. “We loved Emily for the time she was with us, and I love her still.” She rose and went to her bedside table and picked up a small, fabric-covered box. “Like so many parents who have buried their children in this vast land, I’ve entrusted her to the Lord’s care.”

Ara set her purchases aside and shrugged out of the heavy coat. Lilly reached for her hand and wrapped Ara’s fingers around the box. “This is for you. I can’t wait.” ~The Snowbound Bride

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More Than Those Who Watch for the Morning

By Davalynn Spencer @davalynnspencer

I like to walk just before dawn. I don’t always make it, but when I do, I am awed each time by the moment night becomes day.

Many verses in the Bible speak of it, and one of my favorites is Psalm 130:5-6. 

I wait for the Lord, my soul waits,
and in His word I do hope.
My soul waits for the Lord more than those
who watch for the morning–

Different versions of this verse suggest that the watchers were guards on night duty or ancient priestly servants who signaled the dawn for those making the daily sacrifice.

However, I have found other watchers in that early in-between hour. They sit quietly tucked among branches, voices silent beneath their wings, waiting for the exact moment.

And I wonder – do I wait like that? Do I watch for the Lord in confident expectancy of His intervention? Do I hope in His word with the same certainty of knowing the sun will rise?

I want to.

May this new year, regardless of what comes with it, be one of prayer and faith and expectancy. I want to watch for the Lord’s involvement in my life, for I know He will be working, healing, revealing, liberating.

I don’t want to miss it.

So I watch.

~

More than those who watch for the morning.
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The wind shifted, ruffled through the ridge-top grass, and trailed Cale’s face like a woman’s fingers. His saddle creaked beneath him, and he tilted his hat brim to the lip of land where the sky burned gold.

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.

Doc tossed his head and nickered, and the rumble traveled through Cale’s legs and up into his gut. Morning’s breath licked around behind him and whispered against his neck – she’s close.  ~A Change of Scenery

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Three Simple Resolutions for a Changed Life

By Davalynn Spencer @davalynnspencer

How often do our New Year’s Resolutions involve denying ourselves something in order to improve our life?

Stop over-eating.Stop smoking.Give up sugar.Don’t criticize my spouse/siblings/in-laws.

These are admirable aspirations and well worth our efforts. But typically, such resolutions fall by the wayside after a few days or weeks. Okay, hours.

Maybe if we added something to our routines rather than taking something away, we’d see better results. Some people might add things like:

Learn a foreign language.Learn to paint (not just my fingernails)Take up crocheting, knitting, golf.Go to the gym.Get up earlier to go to the gym.Scratch the gym – walk instead.Buy a cool outfit so I look good walking.

Fun ideas, but most likely short-lived, except for number 7.

This year I have three recommendations that I guarantee will impact your life.

Read a verse, passage, or chapter of the Bible every day. I prefer mornings, before the world comes knocking at my door.Pray every day. Pray throughout the day. You don’t have to bow your head or close your eyes (especially if you’re driving or pushing a shopping cart), just talk to God. The more we talk (and listen) to Him, the better we get to know Him.Listen to worship music every day. Have it playing in the background in your home. Tune in when you’re driving. There is something soothing and filling about worship music, and our technologically advanced society provides access to various avenues of listening. Many people have music going non-stop to fill the empty spaces in their lives. Why not fill those spaces with music that uplifts and sets the mind on positive attitudes rather than on discouragement, agitation, or frustration?

These three simple practices have made a huge difference in my life when it comes to peace, strength for difficult times, and the calmness of mind to think through a challenge.

I worry less, I am reminded of what our God can do, and my faith grows. My focus shifts from what is going wrong in the world around me to what God is doing.

Troubled times are nothing new, but my response to them can be.

These three simple steps will change you from the inside out, and in turn, change your life and your outlook.

~

Your word is a lamp to my feet
and a light to my path.
Psalm 119:105

Three simple steps will change you.
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Read. Pray. Listen.
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Troubled times are nothing new, but my response to them can be.
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Once over the ridge that bordered the Rafter-H on the southwest, the high park opened up like a mountain prairie, and Doc took easy to the level, grassy land. Cale’s mind opened as well. His thoughts didn’t crowd each other but spread out like grazing cattle with room to roam. And the Lord Himself seemed to ride herd on those thoughts, turning one this way and another that.

A heavy sigh rolled out, and Cale’s gaze ran along the distant line of jagged peaks. “I could sure use some help, Lord.”

Doc swiveled his ears at the low prayer.

“With my brother and his hard-edged ways. The cattle and whatever’s gettin’ after them.

“With Ella.” Her name slipped out on a whisper with a rope attached and dallied to his heart. ~ A Change of Scenery

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Christmas and the Brokenhearted

By Davalynn Spencer @davalynnspencer

I have never thought of Christmas as a time of gratitude for those who grieve.

However, I’ve had a closer look lately.

Long ago, the prophet Isaiah foretold that God would send One to bind up the brokenhearted and comfort those who mourned.

That doesn’t sound much like the messages we hear blaring from print and social media this time of year, yet it is a priceless promise.

Jesus was the One sent, the One Isaiah spoke of, and whether He arrived two thousand years ago in the spring, fall, or winter isn’t as important as the fact that He came. This is the season we celebrate His arrival – and we call it Christmas.

In recent months, many have lost loved ones, or know friends who have. This will be the first Christmas without that special person.

Those of us who walk around broken and bleeding on the inside need that One Isaiah spoke of to bind our wounds. The rest of us may want to gather those mourning friends into our home during the holiday season, but let’s first seek the Lord’s guidance in our invitations.

Everyone grieves differently, and some may not want to join a cheerful crowd of people they don’t know well. They may want to spend a quiet Christmas remembering.

There is nothing wrong with remembering and being away from the noise and clamor makes it easier. It’s one of the ways people grieve, and according to my pastor, grieving is one of the ways we show our love.

Holidays, by their very nature, often magnify the grief. When that is the case, we can still bring comfort. If an invitation to dinner or festivities is what our friend would enjoy, then by all means, extend it. Feeling included and loved is a boundless blessing.

But if they don’t want or need that, try a simple gift as a reminder that you are there for them and aware of their pain. It could be:

A
good book.
Homemade fudge.
A small bag of cookies.
A hand-written letter or card.
A loaf of pumpkin or banana bread.
A wreath for their door (and the hanger).
Colorful handmade cards from your children.
A simple note sharing what you like about them.
A Christmas mug stuffed with packets of hot cocoa.
A sampling of what you enjoyed at your celebration feast,
enough to make two meals.
Mittens, gloves, or a scarf.
A hug, a carol, a prayer.

Too many people neglect prayer because they think it doesn’t do any good. What a tragic loss.

Prayer wraps a loved one’s heart in the richest of robes and lifts it to the Father’s attention. It also has a way of touching our own harried soul, for when we listen as well as speak, we place ourselves close enough to hear His whisper. 

In your celebrations this year, look around and see who needs a simple gift, a tender touch, or a heartfelt prayer.

And may the Peace of Jesus and His radiant Joy permeate your own home this Christmas and beyond.

~

Isaiah 61:1-3

The Spirit of the Sovereign Lord is upon me because the Lord has
anointed me to preach good news to the poor. He has sent me to bind up the
brokenhearted, to proclaim freedom for the captives and release from darkness
for the prisoners, to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor and the day of vengeance
of our God, to comfort all who mourn, and provide for those who grieve in
Zion—to bestow on them a crown of beauty instead of ashes, the oil of gladness
instead of mourning, and a garment of praise instead of a spirit of despair.

Christmas and the brokenhearted.
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Wil considered the mysterious package for a moment, then offered it to Lena. “This is your Christmas gift. Now might not be the right time, but I didn’t see any other opportunity.”

She gently pulled free of him and immediately felt the loss, the absence of his warmth and strength, his silent promise of protection.

The crude wrapping bore evidence of a man’s attempt, quite unlike the wonderfully crafted cookie cutter he had made. She loosed the mercantile twine and unfolded the brown paper to reveal a delicate pair of embroidery scissors, decorated with tiny blossoms and perfect for snipping yarn.

Amazed once more by his keen perception of what was important to her, she pressed them against her heart. “Thank you.”

A dog barked.

Wil stiffened and looked over his shoulder.

Lena rose from her chair and went to the window. Daylight was fading, but she caught a figure crossing the field in front of the cabin.

The dog barked a second time.

And she knew. “It’s him.”  ~Snow Angel

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Favorite Christmas Carols – and a giveaway!

By Davalynn Spencer @davalynnspencer

Christmas carols – I love them. That’s because I don’t sing them year-round or even in November. I wait until December and then savor them at church, in my home, and in the car on the radio.

Many of the carols have roots in very old traditions, and their background stories are interesting to read. But it’s the words, the phrases that reach down into my heart.

One of my favorite carols is “O Come, O Come, Emmanuel” (Latin hymn, 12th century). I sang it as a child, in high school choirs, at church, and at home by myself – just me and my piano.

The chorus of this song captures my heart as it shifts from minor chords of mourning into major chords of joy and declaration:

          “Rejoice! Rejoice! Emmanuel shall come to thee, O Israel!”

Some hymns tell stories, recounting biblical accounts of the birth of Christ, such as “The First Noel” (1833) and “It Came Upon the Midnight Clear” (1849).

“Joy to the World” declares the good news that “the Lord is come” (1719).

Another of my favorites, “O Come, All Ye Faithful,” calls us to adore (worship and praise) Christ the Lord.

And the classic “O Holy Night” (1800s) reminds us that “He knows our need – to our weakness is no stranger.” It also encourages us to “praise His name forever! His power and glory ever more proclaim!”

I’d love to hear what your favorite Christmas Carol is – there are so many. Include a line or phrase from the song that speaks to your heart.

Comment below with your answer, and I will add your name to a random drawing for an e-book copy of The Snowbound Bride.

~

I will sing to the LORD as long as I live.
I will praise my God to my last breath!
Psalm 104:33

Giveaway - What is your favorite Christmas Carol?
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The Snowbound Bride by Davalynn Spencer giveaway

The dog clamped upon the handle of Ara’s carpetbag and dragged it to the center of the wagon bed, sitting protectively beside it.

“Well, I never!” Narrowing her eyes, Ara drew herself up. “I’ll not be had by a dog.”

A slight woof puffed from the pointed snout.

“We’ll just see about that.” She marched around to the wheel, yanked her skirts above her knees, and climbed the spokes. The dog looked away as if scandalized.

Ara stepped into the wagon bed and froze as mangled strains of a Christmas carol rose from the alley, coming her way. She glared at the dog, who again seized the handle in its jaws. With no other recourse but to leave her belongings and risk running into the man who was following her, she dove to the rough boards, flattened against the outer edge, and jerked a loose tarp over her feet and head.

“God rest ye merry, gentlemen, let nothing you dismay—”

She clapped her hands over her ears. Dismay, indeed. Have mercy!

The dog howled then shook the wagon as it bounded to the edge.

“That bad, ol’ boy? I don’t sing any worse than you.”

A muffled woof and exuberant wiggling indicated its master had returned. A decided tilt as the man climbed to the seat threatened to roll Ara like a Yule log from her hiding place. Whoever he was, he was either rotund or robust. At least he wasn’t the man in the brown bowler.

With a light slap and a hearty “giddyap, ol’ girl,” the mare took to the road. Ara sucked in a dusty breath. Should she rise and call out? Demand the driver take her to the hotel—where there may be no rooms? What if the stranger was watching?

With a drawn-out groan, the dog settled its warm body against her.

O Lord, what had she gotten herself into? ~The Snowbound Bride

Inspirational Western Romance – where the hero is heroic.FREE book and Newsletter!

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(c) 2021 Davalynn Spencer, all rights reserved.

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