Becky Wade's Blog, page 115

Fall Writing Retreat

I have just returned from a writers’ retreat a few hours from my home at the beautiful Blue Belle Inn in St. Ansgar, Iowa.

Sadly, a few friends (Erica Vetsch, Gabrielle Meyer, and Lorna Seilstad) had to stay home due to C*vid in their families or being sick themselves. Disappointing, for sure. But the rest of us regrouped to share rooms and have a fun, productive retreat.

The attendees were a mix of experienced writers and new, and we had blocks of time to write, broken with informal times for brainstorming and encouraging conversation, as well as delicious meals.

Clootie Dumpling Cheesecake and an amazing chocolate fondue.

I enjoyed spending time with seasoned writers like Mary Connealy (who has written 65 books, if you can believe it!) as well as new writers just starting out, like Jenny and Stacey. And I made good progress on my new book for 2022.

Do you enjoy spending time with like-minded people, too?

The Food We Eat

We are home from our almost six weeks of wandering through 11 states, 8 national parks, and 14 state parks. It was wonderful, but oh, my, is it ever good to be home! As I was looking through our photos, it struck me how many different things we ate, but more specifically, how many things I eat (and love!) now that I didn’t even know existed when I was growing up (or even when we were raising our kids.)

We tried Knoephla Soup at a diner in Minnesota. Not our favorite, but some of the other things we tried there were very tasty!While we stayed at an Airbnb with Ken’s sister and family for a few days, we made fajitas—a dish I’d never heard of until I was an adult. Mexican food is my all-time favorite now, but something I rarely ate as a child.

I grew up on a farm and we ate the produce of our land. Beef, pork, potatoes, dairy, and vegetables. We ate a lot of casseroles and scalloped potatoes and creamed vegetables. We had bread with every meal (usually homemade), and dessert after every meal! On the rare occasions my mom hadn’t baked something for dessert, she would make frosting to spread on graham crackers.

Apple pie was a common dessert when I was growing up, but NOT for breakfast! Ken and I ate this delicious pie with homemade ice cream from the Gifford House for breakfast in Capitol Reef National Park.

Just a few of the wonderful things I’d never tasted (or even heard of) until I was grown: guacamole, pomegranates, mangoes, pesto, hummus, spinach and artichoke hearts dip (mmmm!) Even yogurt and bagels…I don’t think I even knew about them until I was in high school, and I tried my first bagel as a newlywed living in New York. (But oh, what a place to discover bagels!)

Bagels are a staple for us now and we took a good supply with us in the RV, but I’d never eaten a bagel until we were newlyweds living in New York. There’s just nothing like a bagel from a Jewish deli in New York!

Of course, the reverse is true too: There are foods I ate as a kid that I rarely or never eat now: bulgar, Cream of Wheat, all kinds of sweet cold cereal, Jell-o, mush (what my mom called fried, leftover oatmeal), fried potatoes and potato cakes, which were mashed potato patties fried in butter. (Are you seeing a theme? Is it any wonder I struggle to keep my weight down!?)

Pancakes, bacon, scrambled eggs, and oatmeal were regulars on our breakfast table on the farm where I grew up. My dad needed a hearty breakfast to carry him through a sunup-to-sundown workday! (Of course, my mom would never have dreamed of using a pancake mix. Hers were always from scratch.)We stopped at Chipotle one of our final days on the road. We can’t get these favorite burrito bowls anywhere near where we live, so we try to grab them whenever we’re in a city that has a Chipotle restaurant.We stopped for ice cream with my dear friend (and a favorite author of mine!) Roxy Henke and her husband, Lorren in Minnesota. They fed us SO well and sent us on our way with Minnesota wild rice, Dot’s pretzels, and ring bologna. We stopped for ice cream in a little shop in their Minnesota town. Of course, ice cream is timeless! I can’t remember a time when it wasn’t my favorite dessert—especially homemade. And my dad always made sure our babies got their first taste of that sweet treat when they were just big enough to lap it from a baby spoon!

What new foods have you discovered and enjoyed as an adult? What foods did you eat as a child that you almost never eat now? Final question: Is this post making you hungry?

Inspired by Scripture

This Sunday feature is brought to you by ClashVerseoftheDay.com. You may sign up to receive a beautiful photo with Scripture in your inbox each morning or view the verse each day online.

Changed in These Covid Days (and a gift for you!)

This week, I’m editing my next book and also hosting my sisters at my home! It’s with much gratitude that I welcome Shelli Littleton to the blog today, who is kindly stepping in and guest-posting for me. Shelli’s a gifted writer and a wonderful friend. Say hi to her in the comments, connect with her on Instagram & Facebook, and be sure to check out the giveaway that we’re offering! -Becky

“Will you feed my caterpillars while I’m out of town?” asks my friend. Later, I watch her with scissors in hand demonstrate cutting sections off an outdoor plant exhibiting orange blooms, and she says, “The caterpillars are hungry.” I’m finding that comment comical until we return into the house and approach these crawlers who whittle away the leaves of milkweed to mere sticks. “They are hungry,” I say. We move to the kitchen sink where my friend teaches me how to rinse tiny spiders from the foliage, to add the new greenery to the floral water vials, and to transfer newfound caterpillars with care. With furrowed forehead, I yearn for her to repeat the directions. Cocoons wiggle as she zips up the butterfly habitat cage. This process is complicated.

My mind revisits weeks prior, when life got hard, when I’d longed to close myself off to the noisy world. Because an introvert needs quiet. Sitting in the peacefulness of my living room, alone on that rare occasion, all I could mentally mutter was I miss you, quiet. My whole family has been home since Covid stepped onto the world stage. My husband took over the office, and I moved to a workstation in our bedroom. Books now line the wall of windows adjacent to my desk, where piles of paperwork cover most inches of the desktop, items that used to go into the office. By all appearances, I’ve turned into a hoarder. I have no time alone, no space to myself. Quiet, that private place to pour out my soul through the written word, is absent.

Stifled sobs drain from my person against the unwanted change, and my hair cries to be cleaned and rinsed, as well. But with my husband at a doctor’s appointment a while longer, these solitary seconds are precious. What have you done to me, Covid? Before 2020, I washed, dried, and styled my hair every single day. I shrug a shoulder to the truth that not only does my room offer the impression that I’m a hoarder now, but I’ve also morphed into an every-three-day hair-washing, messy-bun kind of girl. As if these adjustments weren’t enough, a precious woman passed away in 2020, leaving me motherless on this earth.

Oh, Shelli, how Covid has changed you. My heart stirs and my depleted fingers begin to move, as words beg to pour forth from this emotional being.

The ringing phone slices the silence, breaking my meditation, my thought processes. My husband says he’s only ten minutes from home and asks if I need anything. My writing spirit closes down like a flower at dusk.
How will I manage? How will I plot that next story and start that first page? When will morning come?

I sense the Lord whisper into the depths of me … Be grateful, Shelli.

My breath heaves under the weight of guilt, because my husband suffers severe heart issues. I’m thankful for each day with him and with my girls, who will soon fly the nest. Gratitude fills me that my husband kept his job through Covid, that he’s been able to work in spite of his illness, we still have health insurance, we have a wonderful home, and our two daughters whom we adore are successfully wrapping up their university years. Cherish these days, Shelli. How long will we all be gifted here together, in this space that we love so much? You can bear these different moments.

Days later, I delight in the news that monarch caterpillars endured their time with me, surviving through the change, withdrawn from the world, hidden in order to emerge into what God intended one to be, until the fragility of little wings brilliant with color press through the growth, doing their best through this short life.

Fly, Butterfly, fly.

Oh friend, how has Covid changed you?

p.s. If you’ve found your “quiet” disturbed too, my friends Cynthia Ruchti and Becky Melby have released a book, Spouse in the House: Rearranging Our Attitudes to Make Room for Each Other.

This premium butterfly stationery set includes 14 notecards! Enter via the entry box below….

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Shelli Littleton is an aspiring novelist, who writes for Woman’s Missionary Union’s magazine Missions Mosaic. She and her husband live in a little house on a county road in Texas, along with her two daughters, two sheep, three cats, and fox family that they now claim as their own.

Learn more about Shelli’s writing on her website, and she adores connecting with readers and writers on Instagram and Facebook.

Hanging Out with Book People

The pandemic has really cut down on the amount of writing-related travel I’ve ben able to do over the last year and a half. So when the opportunity arose to speak on a panel at the Lubbock Book Festival, I was excited to volunteer. There is just something that makes my heart happy about hanging out with book people. And since the festival took place in the public library, we were surrounded by shelves of books. The perfect atmosphere!

Panels are always a lot of fun to participate in since they afford a more casual setting and there is little prep required on my part. I just have to show up and talk about writing. Easy peasy. What made this panel even more fun was that I got to share the stage with one of my blogging buddies from Petticoats & Pistols, Linda Broday. I hadn’t seen her in person in several years, so being able to hug her neck was a delight.

My favorite part of the day, however, was getting to meet three of my loyal readers. What a joy! Valri is on my influencer team and is always a hoot to visit with.

Francis was the sole man brave enough to attend the romance panel, and he even asked questions! What a gentleman hero. It turns out we share an alma mater, both of us having graduated from ACU. How fun to discover that! Then there was Kristie Gilliam. Kristie is the reader I met in Lubbock several years ago whose husband asked me to name a character in her honor as a romantic gesture. She became Christie Gilliam, Seth Hamilton’s love interest in More Than Meets the Eye. You can read more about how that came to be here.

It wasn’t until I returned home that I discovered I missed the highlight of the event since I didn’t arrive until mid-afternoon. Children’s author S.J. Dahlstrom rode his horse into the library . . . twice! What a fabulous promotion tool. I think I need to hire him to play one of Hanger’s Horsemen at my next book signing. Ha!

What’s the most unusual thing you’ve ever seen or done in a library?
Who are your favorite book people to hang out with?

Seeing Clearly

I have bad eyesight. Like, really, really bad. I’ve been wearing glasses since 3rd grade, contacts since 7th. I use daily prescription drops for severe dry eye as well as for glaucoma. My glasses help me not run into things but not much more. And even my vision in my contacts can be iffy.

A few years ago, my longtime ophthalmologist and I worked hard to get my distance vision as perfect as possible before my son’s wedding. I was so excited to be able to see so clearly for the first time in a long while. The problem? When I got home with those new contacts, I picked up my book and couldn’t read any of the words! For me, that was traumatic! At least the solution was easier than any of my eyesight issues to that point. A few pair of reading glasses from the dollar store and I was good to go! Except that I do so much reading—books and computer—that I had to wear them practically all day long!

A couple of years later, after a traumatic contact loss while traveling, I put in an old contact I keep as a backup in order to make do until a correct one can be ordered. I sat down at my computer and reached for my readers when I suddenly discovered I could already read the screen! Eureka! Since then I’ve worn one distance vision and one close vision contact—and things have been great.

Until a few weeks ago.

I first noticed the blurred distance vision. I was having trouble reading signs as I drove. Not good. But also not terrible as I rarely go beyond the places I know well enough not to have to read signs. So I ignored the change. After all, I have amazing coping skills after years of dealing with my eyesight.

A couple of weeks later, it struck me that I was straining to see my computer screen while working. Then I noticed I couldn’t see my car dashboard clearly. Or the car play screen. Or my phone.

Gulp.

With eyesight as difficult as mine, the last thing I wanted was to go back to the doctor (a new one after mine of 33 years retired recently—at age 84!) and take a chance of hearing some kind of terrible diagnosis. (That had happened last year with the glaucoma!) So again I ignored my burry vision.

Until I couldn’t.

I ran in the dollar store and picked up two pairs of readers,, but even those didn’t really help. Not like they had in the years when I wore distance-only contacts.

I was frustrated. Discouraged. And honestly? Terrified.

I knew I needed to call the doctor’s office and make an appointment. And I resolved to do just that the following day. But as I took my contacts out that night, it occurred to me that I had one more trick up my sleeve to try. On occasion my contacts have gotten switched somehow. The right in the left and the left in the right. After the last time this had happened, I changed the type of case I was using in order to prevent future mishaps. So even though I didn’t think it could possibly have happened, I checked.

Sure enough, the contact with the tiny black dot, which should sit in my right eye, had been in my left. I changed them in the case and put them in correctly the next morning. With much fear and trepidation I picked up my phone.

Guess what? I can see clearly again.

I wouldn’t have had to struggle for so many weeks if I’d taken measures to check this when I started going blurry. But I had assumed I’d safeguarded myself against the possibility that my contacts could get switched.

As I was relating the story to a friend, I realized that this is so often how we behave with our spiritual eyesight. Everything’s going along fine. We feel we’ve safeguarded our spiritual eyesight by years of being a Christian or by going to church every week or whatever else we’ve decided will make us less susceptible to blurry spiritual vision. But then suddenly the world around us begins to shift. Things don’t seem as clear as before. We strain to comprehend ourselves and others. We get anxious, scared even. Why? Because we aren’t looking through the correct lenses.

When we interpret the things of life in this world through the lens of Scripture, God’s character and His hand clarify our vision. But as we listen to other voices over God’s word, our spiritual eyesight can get distorted. We lose perspective. We struggle. We fear. But the more quickly we recognize the issue the more quickly we can fix the correct lenses in place so that truth comes more clearly into focus. And with clearer understanding comes greater peace.

I am seeing more clearly now, both physically and spiritually. And the moment I realize I’m not, you can believe I will be checking that I’m wearing the correct lenses!

Shiloh from Lori Benton—a great read!

Today is the day for Lori Benton’s highly-anticipated release of Shiloh! And as if the story on the pages isn’t lovely enough, just look at this cover…

This cover just draws me in. Does it you? Yes, I love “scene” covers on novels that depict the setting, but I also love the simplicity and beauty of this one. It’s eye-catching.

Tyndale was kind enough to give me a sneak peek of Shiloh, and I thoroughly enjoyed it. The setting, the characters, the love story…so good.

And since you know how I love reading opening lines, here’s Lori’s from Shiloh:

The crevice in the earth, widened by pick and shovel, permitted a man of average size to hunker comfortably within.

Opening line in chapter one of Lori Benton’s shiloh

This novel would be a great choice for your book club as the topics (family, friendship, life struggles) lend themselves to rich discussion and sharing. Just look at a sample of the gorgeous book club kit that includes a note from Lori, discussion questions, recipes, and more…

START READING NOW

So tell me…

Have you read a Lori Benton book before?

And what are you currently reading? Please share! Fiction or non-fiction, doesn’t matter.

Me? I’m reading two non-fictions right now…

Notice a theme in my reading? : ) Talk about encouraging my heart and turning it more toward Home (thanks be to God!). No matter what you’re reading, if you only have time to read one book today, make it His!

Love from my corner of TN,

Tammy

Lost!

The fall weather was beautiful last week and perfect for riding bikes. I took a break from writing one afternoon, and Ken and I rode off on one of our favorite trails. It winds through the woods north of town, away from people and traffic. Ten miles from home, we heard a woman screaming for help. An older couple running to her aid, flagged us down.

“Can you help?” they asked. “This mother has lost her little boy.”

We parked our bikes and hurried over to see what we could do. The young mother was distraught. Her son was only two. She had been doing laundry while he watched TV, and when she returned to the living room he was gone. She had left all but the screen door open on this beautiful day, and he must have wandered outside.

Ken and I and the two neighbors split up to search in all directions, calling his name. I headed behind the house and into the woods, searching through the underbrush and by every fallen tree. I prayed urgently for God’s mercy as I hurried along, asking Him to help us find this child and bring him home. Ten minutes later, with no luck, I circled back to check with the others. The little boy was still lost. His mother was now hysterical.

I understood her anguish too well. At some point in their childhoods, each of my three children had temporarily disappeared for varying lengths of time and in various places. One disappeared in a grocery store. One on the way home from school, a block away. One at the beach. They were all found, thankfully, but I will never forget the heart-stopping terror I felt. The world that swallows up your child seems so overwhelming and huge, your child, so very, very small.

Earlier that morning in my quiet time I had been praying for three family members who don’t know the Lord. I admit that my attitude toward them was not what it should be. They had hurt me badly, and I was trying to justify their behavior by thinking, “Well, what do you expect? They aren’t Christians.” But as my heart broke for that poor mother and her lost child, I caught a glimpse of God’s heart, and the grief He must feel when any of His children are lost—like my three family members. “He does not want anyone to be destroyed, but wants everyone to repent” (2 Peter 3:9).

I circled back through the woods, running faster and farther this time, calling the boy’s name. I could hear the others frantically calling, too. And I wondered, might God be asking my husband and me and anyone else who can, to search this tenaciously for His lost ones? Might He want us to set aside time from our own pleasures help seek and save more of His lost children?

With still no luck, I returned to the other searchers a second time. We needed to call the police. The elderly neighbor suggested that the mother search inside the house one last time before we called. And that’s where she found her son, fast asleep, nestled out of sight beneath a pile of clean sheets.

She came outside weeping and thanking us. I held her in my arms and felt her entire body trembling as she squeezed me tightly, clinging to me. The prodigal’s father had surely held his lost son just as tightly. As I quietly thanked God, I thought of how the angels in heaven rejoiced when one lost soul is found.

We said good bye to the others, all of us wrung out and relieved, thankful that the search had ended well. Ken and I got back on our bikes and continued on our way. And I prayed again with a new sense of urgency for my family members.

Inspired by Scripture

This Sunday feature is brought to you by ClashVerseoftheDay.com. You may sign up to receive a beautiful photo with Scripture in your inbox each morning or view the verse each day online.

Book Release (And a Giveaway!)

The Heart of a Cowboy, the second book in my Colorado Cowboys series, is releasing on Tuesday! And there’s still time to take advantage of the fabulous pre-order special through Baker Book House (40% off and free shipping!): https://bakerbookhouse.com/products/277334

If you enjoy traveling-west-by-covered-wagons stories, then this book will be right up your alley! The McQuaid family, led by their brother Flynn, is traveling west to Colorado over the Santa Fe Trail. And as you know, during the months-long journey, travelers faced many dangers.

Of course, in the early plotting stages of this book, I rubbed my hands together gleefully and chuckled manically over the fact that I would have a plethora of dangers to throw at my characters. Let me tell you, having so many hardships inherent to the story is sort of like a writer’s dream come true!

In The Heart of the Cowboy I managed to include a near-river drowning, lost livestock, lost people, vicious storms, threats from Confederate Irregulars, danger from rattlesnakes, hot and dry weather, lack of water for both people and livestock, and much, much more!

In fact, the story starts off right in the middle of a river crossing with the heroine falling out the back of her covered wagon and being swept away by the swollen waters of the Neosho River on the Santa Fe Trail.

Here are the first few paragraphs to show you that from the moment you pick up the book, you’ll be plunged right into journey west!

She was going to drown.

The Neosho River wrapped its cold fingers around Linnea Newberry and pulled her down. Frantically she fought the raging current. But muddy water rushed against her face, filling her mouth and nose, making it impossible to breathe.

Above the roaring water, shouts and calls trailed after her. Her grandfather’s anxious voice was the loudest of them all.

She tried to kick and propel herself toward the riverbank, but her heavy muslin skirt, combined with her petticoat and bloomers underneath, tangled around her legs and trapped her like manacles.

If you’d like a chance to WIN a copy of The Heart of a Cowboy, then enter the Rafflecopter form below. I’m giving away TWO paperback copies! (Sorry, U.S. mailing addresses only.)

What about YOU? What do you like best about going-west stories?

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