Davalynn Spencer's Blog, page 4
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
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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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November 24, 2024
Give Up or Give Thanks?
By Davalynn Spencer @davalynnspencer
Eleven years ago at one of my earliest book signings, I sat behind a little table near the front of a Colorado Bible/book store, surrounded by everything Duck Dynasty.
Talk about a duck out of water – that was me. My book had nothing to do with calls, waterfowl blinds, or camouflage clothing.
However, I couldn’t have had a better seat.
From my chair near the front entrance, I had an unavoidable view of a large, artistic rendition of Psalm 37:4 –
Delight yourself in the LORD,
and He will give you
the desires of your heart.
As a fledgling novelist, my heart had been wavering where desire was concerned. Oh, it wasn’t a desire like, “Oooh, I’d really like to have (whatever)!” My desire to write was a heart-longing, and I believed that longing had come from God.
Like most Christians, I was quite familiar with the cause-and-effect promise in Psalm 37, but nothing was happening with my writing. My dream was languishing. Was I to shove it in a drawer behind other unfinished projects and turn to more immediate responsibilities?
Discouragement had me in its crosshairs. However, pinned down near the Dynasty display that Saturday morning, I saw Psalm 37:4 on the wall every time I looked up. My eyes were drawn to it like the gaze of weary hunters to firepit flames.
I began to suspect that the positioning of the artwork was purposeful—as intentional as the placement of my chair.
Keep going, it seemed to urge. Don’t give up.
I had once heard it said that God gives you the desires of your heart so He can give you the desires of your heart.
But what happens when nothing happens? Was I to ignore the desire? Forget about it? Let discouragement win?
Or would I dig in and work at it by educating myself, perfecting my skills, praying, and waiting patiently?
Even duck hunters need to learn, improve, and wait.
I went home that Saturday evening with very few books sold, but the store owners bought several copies for their shelves. A pity-purchase, I felt.
But spending the day facing what God said about our desires somehow encouraged me.
Today, twenty-one books later, I look back on that day at the book store, grateful that I didn’t give up. Now I give thanks.
The Lord planted the desire in me to work with words. Then He helped me develop the skills, tied knots in my ropes so I could hold on over time, and made my dream a reality.
Now my heart sings a song of thanksgiving.
What about you? During this thankful holiday period, consider what God has brought you through, trained you for, or given you over time. And give back to Him your thanks.
The LORD is my strength and shield.
I trust him with all my heart.
He helps me, and my heart
is filled with joy.
I burst out in songs of thanksgiving.
Psalm 28:7
~
Give Up or Give Thanks?
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A tender Thanksgiving tale. Also in audiobook.The room grew quiet, every voice hushed, every hand stilled, and Etta peeked to see every head bowed, even the Eversons’. She’d never attended a church social quite like this, and her heart overflowed with gratitude for the providential hand that led her to Lockton.
At Bern’s “amen,” she realized she’d missed his prayer, so full she’d been of her own thanksgiving.
In a most random yet orderly fashion, families rose from the circle and helped themselves at the serving tables. But never was there a crush of people or a line waiting. People simply flowed in and out of the larger group until everyone was seated again and enjoying the food and those who shared it with them.
Etta became more and more agitated and could not determine why. By the time she’d pushed her fork through sliced ham, sweet yams, and dressing, her hand shook so visibly she was afraid to try Dottie’s pudding for fear she’d splatter her skirt with it. ~Mail-Order Misfire
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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November 17, 2024
Contradiction or Connection?
By Davalynn Spencer @davalynnspencer
Strength and rest have long seemed like contradictory concepts to me. Rest is sedentary and strength is active, right?
Not necessarily.
I’m currently reading a novel, Where Trees Touch the Sky, one of Karen Barnett’s National Park Novels. The quiet strength of the West Coast redwoods stills the soul when one stands in their presence. Their strength seems to inspire a sense of rest in those fortunate enough to experience their grandeur.
Is that contradiction or connection?
What about the biblical hero, Moses, who was tasked with leading hundreds of thousands of Hebrew slaves out of Egypt, across the wilderness, and back to their promised land in Canaan.
Moses begged God to go with them on the journey and basically said, “If You don’t go with us, I’m not going either.”
God said okay, but in a way I wouldn’t have expected.
“My presence will go with you
and I will give you rest.”
Exodus 33:14
Why didn’t God say He would give strength or victory? Wouldn’t that be less contradictory as they traveled through hostile territory?
A verse in Isaiah 30 also mentions rest in an unusual context:
“In returning and rest you shall be saved;
in quietness and confidence shall be your strength.”
Isaiah 30:15
Again, an apparent contradiction that says we are saved by resting.
When God’s presence accompanied Moses and the Israelites, His strength was impressively attendant. They could rest in the confidence that He “had their back,” so to speak.
Isaiah reminds us of this idea. When we return to the Lord (after doing everything our way) and rest in His presence and provision, we are saved. We are safe. We are strong.
A quiet confidence gives us the strength to say, “God’s got this,” whatever this may be.
I want that.
When I rest body, soul, and spirit in His presence, I find strength. When I listen to what God is saying to my heart, I realize it isn’t so much a contradiction as it is a connection. Cause and effect, if you will.
How about you? Have you ever found God’s answer in an apparent contradiction?
~
Contradiction or connection?
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A tender Thanksgiving tale. Also in audiobook.Etta regretted not making room for her winter boots when she left Independence, for this morning the yard was a lake. It had
rained steadily all night, and a trip to the cellar would soak her feet through unless she found something to cover them.
A thorough search of the kitchen netted a length of oil cloth that she cut in half and wrapped around her high-top shoes. Twine at
her ankles tied them in place. Then she slipped into an old coat of Bern’s hanging by the back door, and with a small pail in hand, set
out for the cellar.
Even against the sharp morning air, she smelled Bern in the canvas that encased her. His scent suggested warmth and strength—twin enticements she’d packed away with her late husband’s clothes.
Lord help her, she had to stop thinking of Bern Stidham in such terms. Especially now. As much as she wanted to belong, she resisted any hope of permanence in Lockton. In a matter of weeks, she’d be gone. Departure wouldn’t hurt so much if she didn’t think of town and the frame house at the end of Main Street as home. ~Mail-Order Misfire, prequel to the beloved Front Range Brides series.
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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November 10, 2024
When the Leaves Let Go
By Davalynn Spencer @davalynnspencer
I wish I had known my grandmother when she was a young woman with long russet hair and ankle-brushing skirts. I wish I could have seen her dreams, her daily struggles, and heard the defiance in her voice when she said, “I will not marry until I am eighteen.”
An old maid, others warned. She’d be an old maid by then.
I wish I could have seen her in San Francisco the night her father didn’t come home. What sense of loss must she have felt—she, her sister, and their mother. Papa had been carrying the payroll, someone told them, and he’d been shanghaied.
Such a fate caught many men unaware in those lusty years. Fathers, brothers, husbands, and sons awoke kidnapped and beaten, drugged, or drunk on the decks of great sailing ships bound for ports unknown.
Forced labor ended their lives if they didn’t manage to escape like the characters of a Louis L’Amour title, Cross Fire Trail. Perhaps my great-grandfather’s fate is why I’m so fond of the movie of that same name. No one knew what happened to him.
I wish I had known my grandmother’s reasons for marrying Benjamin Ferris Chamberlain. Did she love the red-headed carpenter? Did she fear for him as he fought in the fiery aftermath of the Great San Francisco earthquake of 1906?
Did she believe they would find a new life together when they left for the San Joaquin Valley? Did hope purchase their farmland and raise a three-walled cabin with only a blanket to serve as the fourth?
Did she envy her sister who stayed in San Francisco and married a wealthy lawyer but had no children? And did she boast of her own little ones when old friends stopped by her new farmhouse—unmarried sisters who had survived the Titanic.
Arriving decades behind her other grandchildren, I knew her only as a little woman stooped by hard work who wore her long gray hair in a bun and her wide wedding band on a chain around her neck. It had worn through over the years, so she flattened it, punched a hole in one end, and hung it on a delicate chain. “I’ll be buried with it,” she told me.
I know she believed she was visited one night by the spirit of a little girl she had cared for. “Look, I washed my hands,” the child said, as if proud to have been obedient even on her way to heaven.
And I know my grandmother believed that she herself would die in the fall, when the leaves let go their grasp.
When they fell six weeks after Benjamin breathed his last, she indeed let go and flew away with them as they danced from the trees.
Each fall I think of my grandmother and her sugar-dusted apple fritters and how she simply knew certain things.
And I wonder if, like her, I will dance on an autumn breeze someday with leaves awhirl as I catch my ride to heaven.
~
“How beautifully leaves grow old. How full of light and color are their last days.” -John Burroughs
~
The LORD shall preserve your going out and your coming in
From this time forth, and even forevermore.
Psalm 121:8
~
When leaves let go ...
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Dusty images stirred in Grace’s memory—a snowy graveside service for her grandfather years before. Grandmother’s mention of a boarding house, though at the time Grace didn’t know what that meant.
The widow paused a moment before addressing her again, an added depth of tone in her voice. “I see your grandmother’s fearlessness in you. The only thing different is your hair. You have more than your share, as did she. but hers was fiery red to match her spirit.”
Grace’s eyes welled, spilling first across her soul with the healing of home she’d not found when she returned to the ranch three weeks ago. Her brothers and their wives had welcomed her. So had Helen and the boys. But she didn’t fit there. Just like she hadn’t fit before she left with the Wild West Show.
But here? In her grandmother’s home with a woman who had known her so well? ~Covering Grace
Inspirational Western Romance – where the hero is heroic.
#lovingthecowboy
(c) 2024 Davalynn Spencer, all rights reserved.
#ChristmasRomance #WesternRomance #ChristianFiction #FreeBook #HistoricalRomance #CowboyRomance
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November 3, 2024
FAITH, HOPE & LOVE – Weight of the Past, Hope for Renewal
By Davalynn Spencer @davalynnspencer
Today I’m happy to introduce friend and fellow author Susan G Mathis with her latest release, Julia’s Joy. I hope you’re blessed.
Weight of the Past – Hope for Renewal
with Faith, Hope, and Love
By Susan G Mathis
In 1 Corinthians 13:12-13 we read, “For now we see only a reflection as in a mirror; then we shall see face to face. Now I know in part; then I shall know fully, even as I am fully known. And now these three remain: faith, hope and love. But the greatest of these is love.”
Sometimes, a story can help us see a little more clearly what the Scriptures are trying to say.
In Julia’s Joy, Julia Collins embarks on a profound journey that serves as a reflection of healing from personal loss and the discovery of hope in unexpected places. Her emotional struggles, intertwined with the vibrant yet isolated setting of Sister Island and her relationship with William, create a rich narrative that resonates with themes of resilience and transformation.
Like us, Julia grapples with the weight of her past. The deaths of her parents, and later her grandmother, leave her with profound grief and feelings of abandonment. This loss shapes her spiritual identity and influences her decisions as she arrives on Sister Island with the intent of claiming her inheritance. However, beneath her practical exterior lies a questioning heart burdened by unresolved pain.
As the story unfolds, Julia’s emotional struggles become increasingly apparent. She battles feelings of isolation, questioning her worth and the direction of her life. Her spiritual journey is marked by the challenge of confronting this grief head-on, rather than merely attempting to move on. This internal spiritual conflict is a central theme, illustrating the complex nature of healing—it’s not just about letting go; it’s about facing the past to make room for God to mold the future.
Sister Island serves as more than just a physical setting; it becomes a catalyst for Julia’s healing. The island’s serene beauty and faith-filled atmosphere provide a stark contrast to the turmoil in her heart. As Julia immerses herself in the island’s community and its natural surroundings, she begins to experience spiritual moments of peace and clarity.
The isolation of the island forces Julia to slow down, reflect, and truly engage with her emotions. Nature often acts as a healing balm, and for Julia, the tranquil waters and lush landscapes symbolize hope and renewal. This environment encourages her to confront her grief, allowing her to process her feelings and gradually open her heart to the possibilities of life beyond her loss.
We can learn to see our brokenness and the need for God’s help a little more clearly as we explore the stories of others, whether in the Bible or in another book. My prayer is that you’ll see the journey of faith, hope, and love through the mirror of Julia’s Joy.
Julia's Joy
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About Julia’s Joy:
She came to claim her inheritance, but the mysterious scarred lighthouse keeper makes her question all her plans.
When Julia Collins reluctantly sets foot on Sister Island, compelled by her wealthy grandmother’s will, she is intent on claiming her inheritance and moving on. But when she experiences the peaceful, faith-filled island life, and connects with the handsome lightkeeper, William, Julia finds herself confronting her open wounds from her parents’ deaths.
William Dodge, lightkeeper of Sister Island, harbors a heart hardened by a past betrayal. Between that and his chronic pleurisy, he wants nothing to do with love. But when Julia arrives on the island bursting with vitality and unconventional notions, William’s world is turned upside down. As she chips away at the walls William has built for himself, he finds his reluctance waning.
But just as love begins to blossom between them, Julia is faced with a tempting proposal from a prominent Brockville family. Will she succumb to societal expectations or choose the richness of her island life and the love of the steadfast lightkeeper?
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 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, the second in her three-book lighthouse series. Her book awards include three Illumination Book Awards, four American Fiction Awards, three Indie Excellence Book Awards, five Literary Titan Book Awards, two Golden Scroll Awards, and a Selah Award. 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 Northern Virginia and enjoys traveling around the world but returns each summer to enjoy the Thousand Islands. Visit www.SusanGMathis.com/fiction for more.
Find Susan online:
Website: https://www.susangmathis.com/fiction-books
Book buy-links: Amazon | Barnes&Nobles | Wild Heart Books
Social media links: Website |Author Central | Facebook | Twitter | Blog | Instagram| Goodreads l Book Bub| Pinterest |
Julia’s Joy book trailer:
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October 27, 2024
At the Proper Time
By Davalynn Spencer @davalynnspencer
I am often asked what advice I have for aspiring writers. My answer is always the same.
“Don’t quit.”
However, sometimes I say, “Never give up.”
And often I elaborate: “Keep writing.”
Sound boringly repetitive?
I’m afraid so. But it is the kind of stick-to-it advice that most worthwhile endeavors require.
It’s that simple.
One of the easiest things to do is quit.
One of the hardest things is not to.
Giving up is not an option when you have a clear directive, and many catchy phrases have appeared in support of that premise:
“Do or die.”
“Never say never.”
“Do or do not. There is no try.”
Look around this fall at the bountiful evidence of things that were small and seemingly insignificant last spring. Today they are bright pumpkins, colorful gourds, juicy apples. And they were all worth the wait.
At the proper time, that which is growing will come to fruition.
What is growing and maturing in your life that will someday be worth the wait, the effort, and the determination? Could it be prayer? Faith? Hope?
You’ll never know if you quit.
~
Rejoice in our confident hope.
Be patient in trouble,
And keep on praying.
Romans 12:12
…at the proper time
we will reap a harvest
if we do not give up.
Gal. 6:9
Don't quit now.
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Matt elaborated.
“No dad in the picture,” he said. “Mom worked when she was sober, but we lived on welfare most of the time, and charity from a nearby church. I wanted my life to be different, and after high school I moved in with a buddy. Got an associate degree at the local junior college and my grades earned me a scholarship to UC Boulder. Mom died before I graduated.”
Breanna fingered her napkin. “I’m sorry.”
“Not your fault.”
“I know, but I’m still sorry. It sounds like you didn’t have much of a family life.”
He finished off his potatoes and picked up his coffee. “Nada.”
“A lot of kids have a similar story. Most of my students come from single-parent homes or blended families. Some of them have a strong core unit, but many of them don’t.”
He noticed a subtle change in her tone.
“You’d be an inspiration to them,” she said.
“Me? Why?”
She leaned forward on her elbows. “Because you persevered. You didn’t quit, and you made a life for yourself.” ~A Boarding House Christmas from A Country Christmas Collection
Inspirational Western Romance – where the hero is heroic.
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(c) 2024 Davalynn Spencer, all rights reserved.
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