Davalynn Spencer's Blog, page 3
February 2, 2025
Was the Message From God?
By Davalynn Spencer @davalynnspencer
A couple of weeks ago, a stomach bug, the flu, or whatever the latest identifier is stopped by for a visit. During its stay, more than my body was affected.
The weakness – or its agent of delivery – made impressions on my groggy mind and dreams.
Those days were dark, and too many times my thoughts circled back to a 15-month-old offense I thought I’d let go of.
Recurring impressions stirred through me of how unjustified the offense was. How wrong and unfair the lie was that had besmirched someone close to me.
I knew both sides of the story and had dealt with “letting go,” trusting Him whose vengeance is greater than mine to handle the situation.
I just hadn’t seen that happen yet.
The need for justification became as oppressive as my stomach ailment. In the sickness, I formulated a perfect case as though I were a prosecuting attorney. The original lie was not only perpetrated by a family member, but it was believed by others even closer who should have known better.
With such a perfect argument, was God talking to me, telling me to approach the person who had wounded me the deepest and lay out the facts? Was He directing me to take action steps, to go after the closest offending party and point out their failure to ferret out the truth?
I justified my argument and myself. After all, someone had been unfairly lied about, and it was my duty to defend them. Right?
But how was I to know who was filling me with this impulse and giving me such perfect points to make? Was the message from God?
Did I have such clarity over the misdeed because God sent the impression? Was this the voice of the Lord giving me direction?
What was God’s will?
How could I tell?
How would I know?
The answer came clearly and simply.
Go to His Word. God’s personal directive will never contradict His written Word.
Scriptures flooded my groggy brain.
~forgive us our sins, as we forgive those who sin against us (Luke 11:4)
~If anyone slaps you on the right cheek, turn to them the other cheek also (Matthew 5:38-40)
~But if you do not forgive others their sins, your Father will not forgive your sins (Matthew 6:15)
Those recorded words of Jesus carried healing. I could rest on them, step back and take them to heart, or I could press on in what I believed to be righteous indignation.
The choice was mine.
I desperately wanted to attack.
I didn’t want to submit to the Lord’s clear command. But when I did, a weight lifted and my spirit lightened.
It was very simple, actually. Not easy, but simple.
And as I recovered, my thinking cleared.
I do not credit the physical illness as either the cause or effect of my spiritual struggle during those dark days. But it plowed up ground for a second sowing of whatever thoughts I allowed.
Bitterness, resentment, and unforgiveness have the ability to poison us if we let them. They can shackle us and tie us up in knots.
I choose freedom. I choose forgiveness.
And that is the kicker. Forgiveness is a choice, not a feeling.
The Lord gives righteousness and justice
to all who are treated unfairly.
Psalm 103:6
~
“People have been very kind to me since I returned, more so than I imagined possible.” Betsy set down her coffee cup and tucked her hands in her lap. “Though I believe my brother is still quietly angry with my independent streak, as he would call it. In that way, I am much like our father.” She frowned at mention of her pa.
“Forgiveness is healing medicine, ” Garrett said. “For both sides.”
She cut a glance across the table, taking in his words. “A couple of people have shown their disapproval, but it seems most have forgiven me,” she said. “I didn’t expect that.”
He could change the subject. Talk about the arsonist. Maggie. The weather, but he didn’t. “Someone hasn’t.”
The idea sent her on a frantic mental search, as clear on her face as if she were lining people up, hunting for that one person until realization hit. “My parents can’t forgive me. They’re gone.”
He shook his head, testing the waters.
“Who?”
“You ran off the last time I mentioned it.”
“I did not.” She drew up. “When?”
“Echo Valley.”
“I did not run off.”
“Well, what do you call getting up and riding away?”
“I call it work. We had things to do.” Another pointed look. “What are you suggesting?”
“I’m suggesting that you haven’t forgiven yourself because you don’t believe you deserve it.” He let the words settle, then lowered his voice. “None of us deserve it, Betsy. It’s a gift.” ~An Unexpected Redemption
Inspirational Western Romance – where the hero is heroic.
#lovingthecowboy
(c) 2025 Davalynn Spencer, all rights reserved.
#WesternRomance #ChristianFiction #FreeBook #HistoricalRomance #ContemporaryCowboyRomance
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January 26, 2025
The Swirling Tempest of Challenge
By Davalynn Spencer @davalynnspencer
Today I welcome fellow award-winning author, Susan G. Mathis, a regular guest on this blog. Her excerpt from Emma’s Engagement, Book 3 of her lighthouse series, shares some important aspects of forgiveness—often a difficult concept to deal with. But first, let’s take a behind-the-scenes look at the story. This is one I highly recommend for a cozy winter read.
About Emma’s Engagement:
Emma Row embarks on a journey that will test her resilience and love. She marries Michael Diepolder, the Rock Island Lightkeeper and widower, a man who seeks a companion for both himself and his eleven-year-old daughter, Ada. But as Emma steps into the role of lightkeeper’s wife with a heart full of hope, little does she know that the idyllic setting conceals challenges that will shake the foundation of her happiness. Isolation creeps in, compounded by Ada’s determination to keep her father all to herself. As a storm looms, Emma must grapple with the difficulties of being a stepmother and lightkeeper’s wife. Will she find her place, or will the tumultuous waves of doubt and isolation tear them apart?
For Michael, Emma is not just a wife but the hope for his future. But the lighthouse life and being a stepmother proves harder for Emma than he ever imagined, and Ada’s animosity only intensifies it. When the lighthouse inspector questions Emma’s place due to her Canadian heritage and Ada becomes deathly ill, the very foundation of their family is shaken. Can their family find solace and unity on this tiny island?
Amid the swirling tempest of challenges, Emma, Michael, and Ada must discover the strength within themselves and each other to weather the storm. Emma’s Engagement is a poignant tale of love, resilience, and the enduring bonds that can form in the most unexpected places. This fictional story is based on the actual lives of Michael and Emma Diepolder.
Excerpt from Emma’s Engagement, Book 3 of the “Love at a Lighthouse” series.
In the days that followed, Emma and Michael engaged Ada in conversations about God. Michael encouraged her to take the lead, for now. He listened attentively, casting supportive and loving glances.
They gathered in the parlor or on the porch—and occasionally strolled around the tiny island—and then they delved into the depths of faith. With passages of Scripture in hand, Emma read passages and offered words of encouragement and reassurance. The ensuing discussions often reached profound depths.
One morning, Emma opened her Bible to the Psalms. “Today, I’d like to share a passage that’s always brought me comfort. It says, ‘The LORD is my strength and my shield; my heart trusted in him, and I am helped; therefore, my heart greatly rejoiceth.’”
As she spoke these words, a sense of peace settled upon the room, embracing them all. Ada sighed. “That’s what the angel said, and this is how I felt when he came to me. I can feel the strength in my body.”
Michael cleared his throat, tears welling up in his eyes. “Faith in God can give us the courage and strength to face any challenge that comes our way. You can take that faith with you to school and into all of your life.”
As their conversations continued, they grew deeper and more poignant. When they explored the mysteries of God’s love and forgiveness, Ada burst into tears. “I’m sorry, Emma. I was so mean to you when you first came here. The ants. The cruel words. The disobedience. And Midnight. Please forgive me.”
Emma took her in her arms and hugged her. “Oh, my sweet girl, I’ve already forgiven you. For all of it. Now let’s put that in the past, okay?”
Ada took the lace handkerchief Emma offered her and blew her nose. “Okay.”
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. Susan has been published more than thirty times in full-length novels, novellas, and non-fiction books. She has thirteen in her Thousand Islands 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, Colleen’s Confession, Peyton’s Promise, Rachel’s Reunion, Mary’s Moment, A Summer at Thousand Island House, Libby’s Lighthouse, and Julia’s Joy, and Emma’s Engagement. Find out more at www.SusanGMathis.com/fiction.
Find Susan and her wonderful stories online at the following:
Susan’s website: https://www.susangmathis.com/fiction-books
Buy links: Amazon | Barnes&Nobles | Wild Heart Books
Social media links: Website |Author Central | Facebook | Twitter | Blog | Instagram| Goodreads l Book Bub| Pinterest |
~
Forgive us our sins,
as we forgive those
who sin against us.
Luke 11:4
Inspirational Western Romance – where the hero is heroic.
#lovingthecowboy
(c) 2025 Davalynn Spencer, all rights reserved.
#WesternRomance #ChristianFiction #FreeBook #HistoricalRomance #ContemporaryCowboyRomance
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January 19, 2025
Cultivate a Habit
By Davalynn Spencer @davalynnspencer
When you wake up in the early predawn, what do you do?
If you leave for work at that time of day/night, then I already know what you do and my heart goes out to you.
But if you typically rise at a more humane hour, what do you do if you pop awake at 2 or 3 or 4 a.m.? Do you rehash the day behind you, practice the day ahead, or mentally rearrange the furniture in your living room?
Do you get up and eat a bowl of oatmeal or half a package of cookies?
Or do you see what’s on television or scroll through social media on your phone?
Sleeplessness is an ancient and unwelcome nighttime visitor, but what do you do if it calls on you?
In the Old Testament we read the story of a young boy who keeps waking up thinking that his master, an old priest, is calling him.
Three times the boy goes to the priest saying, “Here I am, what do you want?”
Three times the old priest says, “I didn’t call you, go back to bed.” But the third time the man realizes that God is speaking to the boy, so he tells him, “If it happens again, say, ‘Speak Lord, your servant is listening’.”
It does happen again. The boy obeys, and God tells him troubling news about the old priest’s family. You can read the account in 1 Samuel 3:1-18.
I’ve heard it said that God does indeed sometimes wake us in the night or early morning because that’s when we can hear Him. The world isn’t accosting us with its distractions and noise. However, how many times do we toss and turn or fret and worry about circumstances in our life? What might happen if we simply listened—not to the worries and fear, but to Him?
What if we said, “Speak Lord, Your servant is listening”?
Do our children or grandchildren talk to us if they know we don’t really listen?
Does our spouse talk to us if they know we’re too preoccupied to hear what they have to say?
Would God speak to us if we’re not paying attention?
What if He has comfort or direction for us? What if He wants us to pray for someone else in those quiet hours before dawn? What it we waited for Him to whisper a name or give us an impression?
Scripture is full of the admonition to listen.
God the Father says, “Be still, and know that I am God” (Psalm 46:10).
Jesus says, “My sheep hear my voice …” (John 10:27).
James says, “Be swift to hear …” (James 1:19).
In this new year, let’s cultivate a habit of listening. We may be surprised by what we hear.
~
Speak Lord ...
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“Tell me, dear,” said Dorrie, “what do you think of Dan?”
Grace laid the brush on the dressing table and divided the woman’s hair into three sections, none too surprised that Dorrie had turned the tables on her again, as if she knew the inner workings of Grace’s mind.
“That’s hard to answer.”
Dorrie watched her in the mirror, seeing more than most, but wisely waiting, listening.
“I fear I’ve ridden a teeter-totter in that man’s presence,” Grace admitted. “One minute I don’t trust him, the next I want to know what he thinks and feels. He infuriates me too. Did you know he refused to tell me about the moving picture company looking for a woman stunt rider?”
Unsure how Dorrie would respond, Grace gave her a moment to comment while loosely braiding her hair.
Dorrie merely seamed her lips.
“How dare he not tell me,” Grace fumed, “as if he was in charge of my life!”
Dorrie pulled the finished braid over her shoulder. “How dare he care.” ~Covering Grace
Inspirational Western Romance – where the hero is heroic.
#lovingthecowboy
(c) 2025 Davalynn Spencer, all rights reserved.
#WesternRomance #ChristianFiction #FreeBook #HistoricalRomance #ContemporaryCowboyRomance
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January 12, 2025
Death … or New Direction?
By Davalynn Spencer @davalynnspencer
Death of the human body, a dream, or a goal is not necessarily painless, but it can be easy if one let’s go in faith — like the dying believer who knows His God awaits him. Because death is not the end, but the beginning of a new life, a new dream, or a new goal — a new direction that perhaps we didn’t see before.
But what if death does not come? What if transition tarries, and it’s hard, really hard? Then what? Do we believe God is with us still, in the rehab ward where progress is measured in centimeters? In the cold dark desert where ideas once flourished and only partial thoughts remain? In the bleak job market where no one seems to want our skills?
Will we take God at His word and believe that He is with us even there?
The dilemma is centuries old. We can choose to be Job or we can choose to be his wife.
Perhaps the road God asks us to walk is one of faithfulness in spite of pain, frustration, or defeat.
Are we called to support and encourage yet see no measurable improvement?
Then encourage we must.
Are we called to pray yet see no answers to our prayers?
Then pray we must.
Are we called to sing, yet no one is around to hear our songs?
Then sing we must.
Christ is with us in the hard way of life. His presence abides. It is a matter of trust, and when we lean into Him through the fog that dims our sight, we feel His warmth, His strength.
He is there. He is faithful.
It is a lesson we learn in the living.
“I will never leave you nor forsake you.” –Jesus
Hebrews 13:5
Christ is with us in the hard way.
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Dan went out the back, locking the door. This was a fine setup for his sick father—living in the back of a store on Main Street. Dan refused to take a room and leave him all day in a hotel with no one to look in on him. He’d given Berkshire’s boarding house some thought, but after this morning’s incident, that option was off the table.
Good God, what am I supposed to do?
Smitty got the mare and buggy up in no time, and Dan drove around to the back of the shop. No wind or breeze to speak of, but he still bundled his father in blankets and a stocking cap as if it were snowing and carried him to the waiting buggy.
His heart bore a much heavier load than his arms as he lifted Pop to the seat. After securing blankets around his father’s ankles and adjusting the muffler at his neck, Dan propped a pillow between the arm rest and the man. The dearest, smartest, strongest man he’d ever known, now with less stamina than a child.
Since his wife’s death, Daniel Waite, Sr. had all but given up.
Dan had moved back into his parents’ Denver home, worked to salvage the hat shop and restore his father’s desire to live. He’d failed at both.
His last hope was Cañon City and the Hot Springs Hotel and bath house. Healing waters, he’d read. Good for all sorts of ailments and diseases. They’d come last year, and Dan bought the long, narrow shop, with living quarters above that they couldn’t use because of the stairs. At least there was a storeroom. ~Covering Grace
Inspirational Western Romance – where the hero is heroic.
#lovingthecowboy
(c) 2025 Davalynn Spencer, all rights reserved.
#WesternRomance #ChristianFiction #FreeBook #HistoricalRomance #ContemporaryCowboyRomance
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January 5, 2025
Seek His Will
By Davalynn Spencer @davalynnspencer
So many people in our society today are mesmerized by the video in their palms. They look down at their phones – not up. Like most of the people I’ve seen waiting in airports, they’re not paying attention to what’s going on around them.
I don’t want to be that person this year. But oh, how entertainingly addictive are those little “reels” on Facebook and other sites that show me clever tricks for the kitchen or with my hair or in my garden. A quick minute or two can slide into an hour before I realize it.
Are those social media posts where I’m going to find direction for my life?
God help me!
Paul writes to the Romans:
“Don’t you realize that you become the slave of whatever you choose to obey?” (Romans 6:16).
Did you catch that little word “slave”? Elsewhere Paul explains that it’s not always something bad that addicts us.
“All things are lawful for me,” but not all things are helpful. “All things are lawful for me, but I will not be dominated by anything” (1 Corinthians 6:12).
I need an antidote that helps me recover from my addiction/slavery, and I believe it’s in what James wrote to early Christians:
“But don’t just listen to God’s word. You must do what it says. Otherwise, you are only fooling yourselves. For if you listen to the word and don’t obey, it is like glancing at your face in a mirror. You see yourself, walk away, and forget what you look like. But if you look carefully into the perfect law that sets you free, and if you do what it says and don’t forget what you heard, then God will bless you for doing it” (James 1:22-25).
I want to look into His perfect law of liberty more than I look at the video in my palm. I want to hear the Speaker of the very first word. Life’s answers really are with Him.
That sounds simplistic because basically, it is. Maybe not easy, but simple.
If we seek God in this new year, we’ll find Him. If we read what He says, we’ll discover direction and help. The clincher is whether we will believe Him and do what He says.
The choice is ours.
~
Seek His will in all you do,
and He will show you which path to take.
Proverbs 3:6
The choice is yours.
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Davalynn’s devotions cut right to the heart and speak God’s truth into women’s lives. Be ready for some laughter in your tears.” -Linda Scholtz, pastor
“… each time I read her devotional, my heart sings and my spirit is at rest. -K Wenthur, reader
Inspirational Western Romance – where the hero is heroic.
#lovingthecowboy
(c) 2025 Davalynn Spencer, all rights reserved.
#WesternRomance #ChristianFiction #FreeBook #HistoricalRomance #ContemporaryCowboyRomance
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December 29, 2024
Celebrate the Light!
By Davalynn Spencer @davalynnspencer
I’m going to miss December’s decorative Christmas lights shining into the night from homes and streets. One of my favorite displays this year was a small farm whose owner outlined the entire peaked barn, farmhouse windows, and pasture fences. What a beautiful thing to see when driving through the dark, cold countryside.
I wonder – if it were not for the biblical nativity story found in Luke 2, would we make such a big deal out of lights at Christmas?
Luke’s account tells us of shepherds guarding their flocks that night, and I imagine they took turns watching the sheep and sleeping around a campfire. They had no lanterns or flashlights, so beyond the circle of firelight, darkness vied with stars and moon.
But then the ultimate glow-in-the-dark extravaganza appeared: Angels, and “the glory of the Lord” shone around them.
These men who could no doubt beat off wild animals and human thieves were terrified by the sudden appearance of light-winged beings in the middle of the night.
What if the angels had come at dawn? Or maybe at high noon. Would their arrival have been as astounding?
Elsewhere we read of magi from the east riding to see the Child predicted to be a king. Much more familiar than we are with celestial navigation, they followed a starry roadmap displayed in the heavens.
Light in the darkness draws us.
As a grown man, Jesus told the people, “I am the light of the world. Whoever follows me will never walk in darkness, but will have the light of life” (John 8:12).
Later He reminded his disciples that they were the light of the world. “A town built on a hill cannot be hidden. Neither do people light a lamp and put it under a bowl. Instead they put it on its stand, and it gives light to everyone in the house. In the same way, let your light shine before others, that they may see your good deeds and glorify your Father in heaven (Matthew 5:14-16).
Jesus’ half-brother records in the book of James that “every good gift and every perfect gift is from above, and comes down from the Father of Lights, with whom there is no variation or shadow of turning” (James 1:17).
John writes: “In him was life, and that life was the light of all mankind. The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it” (John 1:4-5).
The good news about the Light of the World came in the dark. I believe that was by design.
At the darkest moments in our own lives, He will be with us if we ask Him. He will be there with His light. He is the light.
As Christmas lights diminish over the next few weeks, may we not let the Light of Jesus fade from our lives or forget that every good gift we have is from His Father, the Father of Lights.
~
Light in the darkness draws us.
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One of my all-time favorite songs: Celebrate the Light!
“Ready?” Dave started the engine, and warm air blew out from beneath the dashboard.
“Ready as ever.” Georgia shoved her hands in her pockets and hunched her shoulders.
“You cold?”
“No—cozy. It’s nice in here.”
The Boy Scouts’ tree lot covered an entire corner parking lot on Main Street. Last night’s snow dusted the trees, but the walkways were swept clear. Strings of lights crisscrossed overhead, and the whole place filled Dave with childlike anticipation. The last two Christmases had failed to win a second glance, and he had avoided trees and greenery like he would a bad case of measles.
“Oh, look!” Georgia seemed to glow with the Christmas spirit, and she hurried to a display of mistletoe strung overhead beneath a section of lights. Each white-berried bundle was tied with a red ribbon and clipped to the wire. “It’s real mistletoe. I love it!”
Dave’s imagination picked up speed and he steered the conversation elsewhere. “Are you getting a tree this year, or do you have a fake tree?”
Georgia’s enthusiasm cooled and she shoved her hands in her pockets. “You mean an artificial tree?”
Whoa. Okay. “Yeah, an artificial tree.” He still considered them fake and had been disappointed when his late wife had opted for one so she didn’t have to vacuum needles off the carpet. A few weeks later they’d learned about her cancer. He couldn’t help but connect the two.
“I used to insist on a real tree,” Georgia said. “One year, we even bought a living tree and planted it at the church we attended as part of their landscaping project.”
“But . . .”
Her smile wilted. “My heart hasn’t really been in Christmas the last few years, so I put up a small artificial tree in the front room by the window so its lights show outside.” She looked at the bundles behind them. “But for some reason, I’ve always loved mistletoe.” ~A Mistletoe Christmas, from “A Country Christmas Collection.”
Inspirational Western Romance – where the hero is heroic.
#lovingthecowboy
(c) 2024 Davalynn Spencer, all rights reserved.
#WesternRomance #ChristianFiction #FreeBook #HistoricalRomance #ContemporaryCowboyRomance
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December 22, 2024
Love … at its most vulnerable …
By Davalynn Spencer @davalynnspencer
Today is the fourth and final Sunday of Advent, a four-week tradition that marks the coming of Christ. We have looked at the themes of Hope, Peace, and Joy. This week’s celebration focuses on Love.
The Bible says much about love.
It is the greatest.
Without it we are mere noise-makers.
It’s what we are to give those who hate us.
It should temper everything we say.
It could cost us our life.
It cost Jesus His.
God loved the world so much that He gave His only son (John 3:16).
That’s a lot of love. It’s a love we can’t fully comprehend because we are flesh and blood mortals with limited mental capacity and vision. We cannot fathom how deep and wide the love of God is.
I like the clarity of The Message paraphrase when quoting the familiar reference of John 3:16-18:
This is how much God loved the world: He gave his Son, his one and only Son.
And this is why: so that no one need be destroyed; by believing in him,
anyone can have a whole and lasting life. God didn’t go to all the trouble
of sending his Son merely to point an accusing finger, telling the world how
bad it was. He came to help, to put the world right again. Anyone who trusts
in him is acquitted; anyone who refuses to trust him has long since been under
the death sentence without knowing it. And why? Because of that person’s failure
to believe in the one-of-a-kind Son of God when introduced to him.
Our celebration of Christ’s birth is my favorite holiday because it flaunts the defeat of our enemy by the small, pudgy fist of a newborn. Love at its most vulnerable point could not be bested by Satan.
This fact reminds me that in spite of what the enemy or circumstances hurl at my life, God’s love is still in control.
~
Love at its most vulnerable
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Georgia took a slow swallow, watching him over the rim of her cup.
Now or never, cowboy. “Georgia, may I speak candidly?” Dave said.
She dipped her head. “I thought you always did.”
Just take me now, Lord, before I bungle the whole thing.
When nothing happened, Dave took a deep breath. “I enjoy spending time with you, and I’d like to continue doing so. Aside from Sunday at church. How about you?”
Her eyes said little. Guarded, holding him at bay, unlike her demeanor at Stan’s, in the meadow, and in her backyard. But the sigh that floated from her parted lips raised his hopes.
“I’d like that.”
Forgiven.
She stretched her hand out, palm up.
He enclosed it in his. “Good.” If he wasn’t careful, he’d melt down right there on her kitchen floor.
“My sudden exit from our day at the ranch was not entirely your fault. Your words caught me off guard, that’s all.” She looked at their hands. “Things seem to be moving so quickly.”
Her cheeks reddened and the blush endeared her to him. He squeezed her fingers. “I agree with you, they are. But I don’t want to change that. I want to get to know you even more. Share the bits and pieces of my life with you and hear about yours.”
Her shy smile nearly did him in. He wasn’t this vulnerable when he was a seventeen-year-old high school junior with acne.
She slipped her hand from beneath his. “On one condition.”
His throat tightened.
“That we pray when we get together. That we keep the Lord front and center. Because I really don’t have time in my life for anything less.”
If he kissed her right there at the kitchen table, she might change her mind and kick him out. He settled for retrieving her hand. “You got it.” ~A Mistletoe Christmas from “A Country Christmas Collection”
Inspirational Western Romance – where the hero is heroic.
#lovingthecowboy
(c) 2024 Davalynn Spencer, all rights reserved.
#WesternRomance #ChristianFiction #FreeBook #HistoricalRomance #ContemporaryCowboyRomance
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December 15, 2024
Joy to the World …
By Davalynn Spencer @davalynnspencer
Eight hundred years ago near Greccio, Italy, St. Francis of Assisi celebrated Christmas by assembling a living nativity or creche. He used live animals for a depiction of Christ’s birth, hoping to draw attention to the advent and away from secular materialism of the day.
What a concept.
My husband and I have a donkey and goats in the barn this year, even a feed trough. But our nativity scene is indoors and quite unlike that of St. Francis. No bundled newborn lies in the tiny manger. Just a child with wavy hair, graceful arms lifted as if in blessing, and an angelic smile kissing his features.
Those of us who have seen newborns know this is not an accurate portrayal. Nor is it necessarily biblical.
Scripture tells us that Mary “wrapped him in swaddling clothes …” which means she wrapped baby Jesus snuggly in cloths, a technique still used around the world to comfort a newborn.
Today’s Advent candle signifies Joy. We sing, “Joy to the world, the Lord is come,” and rightly so, for that was the angels’ message. Hope, at last, was born. Peace was promised, and people should rejoice.
But not everyone did.
Tragedy accompanied the first Christmas two thousand years ago when a mentally-deranged leader ordered the murder of baby boys in his kingdom. He feared the one Babe predicted to be King, and so he killed all he could find.
It’s a side of the nativity we rarely consider—the wails of women who lost their innocent children to a maniacal murderer named Herod.
Maybe our sanitized crèches should have a scowling man lurking in the shadows beyond the star’s light.
How can eternal joy coexist with such crushing sorrow?
We may not understand how, but we can be assured that it does.
When Mary and her husband, Joseph, dedicated Jesus at the temple, a devout man there name Simeon praised God and said of Jesus, “… He is a light to reveal God to the nations, and he is the glory of your people Israel.”
And to Mary, Simeon said, “This child is destined to cause many in Israel to fall, but he will be a joy to many others. He has been sent as a sign from God, but many will oppose him. As a result, the deepest thoughts of many hearts will be revealed. And a sword will pierce your very soul” (Luke 2:25-35).
No doubt Mary recalled those words the day she watched her son die on a Roman cross. And no doubt the joy of His resurrection outshone her sorrow.
The gift of God’s light to the world conquered the darkness of sin.
And so we light the Advent candle declaring that Joy has come.
Joy that, even in our sorrow, God will hold us close, swaddling us in His incomparable love.
May we consider those who grieve this Christmas for whatever reason. And may we bring them comfort and hope as we “rejoice with those who rejoice and weep with those who weep.”
Joy to the world
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On Christmas Eve’s eve, Buck replaced the New Haven clock on the mantel with his hand-carved figures and arranged the pieces just so. Ara scattered cedar twigs and pinecones among them. When she finished, he pulled a handful of sweet grass hay from his pocket, gently lifted the sleeping figure, and filled the manger before returning the Babe to His bed. Ara linked her arm through Buck’s and gave it a squeeze. “It’s perfect. What a wonderful talent you have.”
His whiskers puffed out, and his eyes twinkled. “That’s not all I’ve got.” From his shirt pocket he pulled a mistletoe sprig with red yarn tied round the end. Then he tacked it to the low beam between the parlor and the entryway and gave Ara a wink. ~The Snowbound Bride
Inspirational Western Romance – where the hero is heroic.
#lovingthecowboy
(c) 2024 Davalynn Spencer, all rights reserved.
#WesternRomance #ChristianFiction #FreeBook #HistoricalRomance #CowboyRomance
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December 8, 2024
Peace on earth …
By Davalynn Spencer @davalynnspencer
An advent wreath was not part of our Christmas traditions when I was growing up. We didn’t light advent candles during the holidays or talk about what they meant, so learning about advent as an adult became one more thing on my to-do list.
I had trouble keeping track of what color candle went where, why some people used only white or red candles, and the correct order of observance for each day. Is it Hope, Peace, Joy, and Love, or Hope, Love, Joy, and Peace?
I suspect the order and candle color are not as important to God as our embracing of those four priceless gifts.
Today, my church acknowledges Peace, yet I feel like a peaceless hypocrite hurrying around trying to get ready for holiday demands. Is that how it’s supposed to be at Christmas?
No.
We have made it what it wasn’t.
The word advent refers to the coming of Christ, not the coming of chaos. In fact, Christ has the power to conquer the chaos if we let Him.
And what would the absence of chaos look like?
Peace in my demeanor and tone of voice?
Or Peace while searching for a space in the parking lot?
How about Peace in the midst of confusion?
That’s exactly what I need during the holiday crush.
“Peace on earth, good will to men,” the heralding angels told shepherds in the Judean hills a couple thousand years ago.
Yes, peace with God. I can’t be good enough to make the cut where He is concerned. So He did it for me and sent His son to carry my debt and give me a clean record.
That’s what I acknowledge in my heart this week. That’s the candle I light and quiet myself as I stand before it in gratitude.
Peace. His peace.
“Glory to God in the highest heaven,
and on earth peace to those
on whom his favor rests.”
Luke 2:14
~
We have made it what it wasn't.
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*If you are one who likes to give books or stuff stockings with them at Christmas, may I suggest a book by Alan Arnold, Chaos Can’t.
Inspirational Western Romance – where the hero is heroic.
#lovingthecowboy
(c) 2024 Davalynn Spencer, all rights reserved.
#WesternRomance #ChristianFiction #FreeBook #HistoricalRomance #CowboyRomance
The post Peace on earth … appeared first on Davalynn Spencer.
December 1, 2024
Hope Interrupting
By Davalynn Spencer @davalynnspencer
The young Jewish woman we think of each Christmas must have been an equestrian of the highest order, riding full-term over rough ground on a donkey. Twenty miles a day for more than seventy miles she and her fiancé traveled so they could be counted in his home town by Roman record keepers.
But that wasn’t the hard part.
The hard part was being with child by someone other than him.
People no doubt looked down on her, sneering behind her back, whispering behind their hands.
“Unheard of,” they may have hissed. Or maybe they didn’t know about the angel’s appearance. Maybe she and her fiancé kept the sacred to themselves, choosing to bear the scorn. After all, every Jew in the neighborhood knew the prophets’ promise that Messiah would come. Surely He wouldn’t come through such a poor and disreputable couple.
And yet He did.
He came as Hope Interrupting and most people didn’t recognize Him.
How inconvenient He was.
“Excuse me, God,” the young woman could have said. “You’re interrupting my plans.”
What of her expectations for the future, similar to those of her friends?
Find an honorable Jewish man
who also had plans and the
means to carry them out.
Someone who could provide for
her and their future family.
Promises were made. Vows kept. A baby wasn’t supposed to come first.
But God interrupted.
It wasn’t what the young woman expected. Not what the guy wanted.
God does that. He interrupts our plans, our expectations.
Just like He interrupted the darkness and called it Light.
Interrupted death and called it Life.
Apparently, that historic couple trusted Him enough to take Him at his word.
What might happen if we let God interrupt our lives with His plan?
The people walking in darkness
have seen a great light;
on those living in the land of
deep darkness a light has dawned.
… For to us a child is born,
to us a son is given,
and the government will be on
his shoulders. And he will be
called Wonderful Counselor,
Mighty God, Everlasting Father,
Prince of Peace.
~
*Today is the first Sunday of Advent. Worshippers around the world will honor the day by lighting a candle of Hope.
Hope Interrupting
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Anticipation hung in Ara’s heart like diamond icicles, sparkling and pure. Cradled as the family was on the breast of the mountain, glitter and glamour didn’t fill the house. Instead, the special care given to selected recipes and homemade gifts graced this home. The scent of cider, cinnamon and cloves curtained the kitchen, and star-shaped cookies winked from red yarn on the popcorn-and cranberry-laced spruce.
She shrugged into the sheepskin coat and tucked the denims into her boot tops before making her way to the barn with the scrap can. Another snowfall had chased her out of the calico and into the borrowed britches.
Just inside the barn’s wide door, she paused by a new wooden manger filled with fresh hay as if awaiting a heavenly guest. Bending to breathe in the grassy perfume, she closed her eyes and marveled at the simple pleasure. A scuffling step said Buck was near.
“It’s an offering.” He stopped beside her and fluffed the hay with his large, rough hands. “He came to stockmen, you know. Like us. And His ma made His bed in a barn.”
Ara’s heart warmed at Buck’s uncharacteristic tenderness. “It’s a wonderful gift. Exactly what the Christ child would need.”
His thick brows rose with hope. “You really think so?”
“Of course. Warmth and shelter and love. The same things we all need. I’m sure He would have been most comfortable in this crib you’ve made.”
A smile puffed out Buck’s whiskers, and Ara swallowed a laugh. Such pleasure in a modest gift made from what one had at hand. ~The Snowbound Bride
Inspirational Western Romance – where the hero is heroic.
#lovingthecowboy
(c) 2024 Davalynn Spencer, all rights reserved.
#WesternRomance #ChristianFiction #FreeBook #HistoricalRomance #CowboyRomance
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