Becky Wade's Blog, page 147

Prayer Walk

Somehow it’s easier to meet Jesus in the quiet of the early morning. I’ve found this to be particularly true for me over the last month.

Thanks to COVID closing/restricting gyms and my desire to escape the Texas summer heat, I recently switched my usual exercise routine from lunchtime to early mornings. For the last couple months, I have been rising at 5:30 am and walking 2 miles around my neighborhood. It’s still dark out, but oh, so peaceful. I smile at the moon and stars shining in the sky and relish the cool of the morning air. And my soul never fails to be drawn into the throne room of God.

These 30 minute walks have become precious, uninterrupted prayer time. Time of communion with the Lord. Time I don’t want to forfeit when the weather starts to turn cold. I feel closer to God during these walks than at any other time of the day. Because we are alone together. Minimal distractions. Just quiet and stillness of soul.

Sometimes my prayers drift into inspiration sessions, when God gives me an idea for the story I’m working on or a way to minister to a person I know. In fact, I had no idea what I would write in this week’s blog post, so I prayed about that, and God led me here.

A few weeks ago I started reading a book called Women Who Move Mountains: Praying with confidence, boldness, and grace by Sue Detweiler. I only read a couple pages a day with my breakfast, so I’m not very deep into the book, but as I read this morning, this passage jumped off the page and straight into my soul:

“Most important, prayer is about knowing God intimately. It is about struggling to give birth to God’s purposes. And it is about embracing the sweet presence of God and allowing the wind of His Spirit to blow freely.”

Isn’t that beautiful? Too often I get drawn into the trap of thinking that prayer is all about asking God for things. Good things. Spiritual things. Salvation things. And that is definitely a part. The Bible teaches us to make our requests known to him. But I think there is a deeper purpose at play.

God wants us to come to him with our requests because he wants us to come to him. Period. To spend time with him. To sit in his lap and simply be with him. No agenda. No hurry to get the dutiful visit done so we can get on with our lives. Just be still and be present with him. I’m so guilty of rushing through life and missing these opportunities. I think that is why my soul has been clinging to these early morning prayer walks. They are drawing me into deeper relationship with Jesus.

When do you feel closest to God?
What daily habits bring you into God’s presence?

Autumn Excitement

In Texas, we usually get a tease of fall in September before summer blazes back for one more go. This year, the tease is going on two weeks now. Highs in the mid-80s to low 90s, nights in the mid-60s to high 70s. I know those are summer temperatures to some folks, but it is a great reprieve from a summer of well into the 100s.

The cooler mornings have me thinking of the things I get most excited about in autumn. Of course, things will look different this fall compared to most years, but there are some things that will still be around, albeit in different form, and there are some things that never change, even with COVID!

Here are the top five things I’m looking forward to in the coming weeks.

Football

Yes, I am a football fan at every level. Of course, we did cancel our cable tv, so not sure how we’ll watch our college (SMU) and pro (Cowboys) teams, but my guess is that we’ll manage something. But even more, we are excited to watch some high school football again this year! We have two nephews taking the field for two different schools, one a junior who has never played football before and one a senior who has lived and breathed football from his youngest days. We hope to get to see both play in a couple of weeks when they begin their season. We’ll see how that goes!

1. One of my favorite pictures of my boys in their football days (freshman and junior) 2. My Senior year nephew wearing #9 (from last season) 3. My Junior year nephew getting ready for his first football season ever!

Hot Coffee

Ok, full disclosure: I still drink hot coffee in the summer. At least at home in the air conditioning! But when out, I generally go for iced coffee or cold brew on hot days. Autumn mornings mean getting coffee with friends (sitting outside of course!) and sipping a hot latte without sweating.

Autumn Flavors

I do most of my grocery shopping at Trader Joe’s and so look forward to all their autumn-flavored seasonal items—lots of pumpkin but also squash and maple. I so enjoy these flavors, especially in some combination in a latte. I’m also looking forward the first day I feel like making pumpkin bread, usually with chocolate chips thrown in, and, of course, the first pumpkin pie around Halloween.

Leaf Colors

We don’t experience much color in Texas, but that makes a tree full of bright yellow or red or orange leaves even more eye-catching. And I can lose myself in pictures of autumn trees from other parts of the country where the color abounds. I imagine my daughter will be the source of many such pictures now that she lives in New England!

Shorter Days

I know, I’m weird. Most people lament the lack of sunlight. But being a night person by nature, my brain kind of turns on in the dark of evening. (The dark of morning is a completely different story!) Ironically, the earlier dark also feels more restful to me. When days are long I feel as if I should be frantically active until dark.

What are you looking forward to as Fall approaches? Has COVID changed your list?

Divine Twists & Turns

Three weeks from today on October 6 Colors of Truth my 17th novel releases, and I’m especially grateful to finally be at this milestone with this book. Because writing this one has been a journey—in so many ways.

Colors of Truth, a Carnton novel

First—
I wrote the majority of Colors of Truth during Dad’s final year of life here on earth with dementia. So a lot of what God taught me during those exhausting but blessing-filled months—trusting the Lord no matter what, leaning into his strength instead of mine, and not measuring his faithfulness by my feelings or circumstances—made its way into the pages of this book.

Second—
Catriona O’Toole and her younger sister Nora (pictured on the cover) hail from Country Antrim, Ireland, which is where my own ancestors resided until the early 18th century when they came to America. It’s also where the McGavocks (who owned Carnton) emigrated from as well. #smallworld #stopfollowingme

Third—
It’s also the first time I’ve written about sisters, and I must say . . . I loved it! These two Irish sisters are each a handful in their own right. But when they clash as sisters often do—look out!

Fourth—
Wade Cunningham, the male protagonist/hero, is a former Federal soldier who now works for the newly formed United States Secret Service and is trying to uncover counterfeiting rings in the postwar South. In order to infiltrate their sophisticated enterprise, he must pose as a former Confederate in Franklin—a town where counterfeit greenbacks run rampant.

Following the American Civil War, this young country was on the brink of bankruptcy with anywhere from one-third to one-half of all currency in circulation being counterfeit. Hence, the Secret Service was formed within the Treasury Department.

Have I mentioned I love writing real history?

But what’s most unique about Colors of Truth is that it’s my first indie (independently published) book. It’s a v-e-r-y long story that I won’t go into great detail here, but here’s a video I shared in a personal note to my reader eUpdate friends last week explaining my publisher’s cancellation of Colors of Truth, along with the third (and final) Carnton novel I’m currently writing . . .

So, as they say, here we are.

Between this novel being printed and ready to ship to stores, then suddenly being delayed, then on again, then off again, it’s been one crazy roller coaster ride. But you know what? God’s been with me through every single twist and turn, and he’s drawn me closer to him than I’ve ever been before. So for that alone, I’m grateful for this experience.

The Kindle version of Colors of Truth is available for pre-order now, and the print and audio versions will be ready any day now.

You may have questions similar to those I received from readers last week:

Q: Will there still be a Carnton novel book 3 in the series?
A: Yes! I’m writing that story right now, and it will release next summer through Fountain Creek Press.

Q: Will Colors of Truth have the same cover?
A: Yes, it will (as pictured above). So you don’t have to look for another cover.

Q: Will the book be available in print, ebook, and audio like usual?
A: Absolutely. And have I mentioned how excited I am to share Wade and Catriona’s story with you? And little Nora’s too!

Q: Will the book be in my favorite local bookstore where I usually buy your books?
A: I’m working on that now and, of course, part of that answer depends on whether that favorite local bookstore is even open right now due to COVID. But rest assured, I’m working on those channels of distribution, and for ALL versions of the novel to be available for purchase online on October 6.

Any other questions? Please post them below and let me know.

I’ve learned a ton about indie publishing in recent weeks, with more yet to learn. But it’s exciting, and I’ve always loved a challenge, so . . . onward!

Besides, compared to the enormous obstacles so many others across the world have faced in 2020, this unexpected turn doesn’t feel quite so overwhelming. Especially considering Who’s at the helm!

As my son Kurt often says, “God’s got this!” And he does.

Now let’s check your knowledge of your heritage. . . Where did your ancestors emigrate from before coming to America?

Much love from my corner of Tennessee,

Tammy

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Pen Pals: a reunion

I had lunch with an old friend last week. Ann and I go WAY back to when we were little girls of maybe eight or ten. My family’s former pastor and his wife had moved to the Norman, Arkansas area, and were involved with a mission there.

Rev. Ellis Turner and his wife, Viola, helped set up a pen pal program, matching the kids in our little country church in Kansas with kids involved in their church and the mission in Norman. Ann and I were matched and we quickly became fast friends exchanging long letters and class photos. My sister, Vicky, was matched with Ann’s sister Faye, and they were pen pals for many years too. As children, we got to meet Ann and Faye and their family several times when we traveled to Arkansas to visit the Turners and help at the mission. I remember how sweet Ann’s parents were and how much Rev. and Mrs. Turner admired them.

Meeting each other sealed our friendship, and Ann and I continued to write until we were both young married women. Our children came along and we eventually lost touch, but I thought of Ann often over the years and wondered how she was doing.

In 2003, Vicky surprised their family with a visit to Ann and Faye’s parents’ house when she was visiting Arkansas. Ann happened to be at her parents’ house and they all had a good visit and even called Faye so they could talk. (Ann and Faye married brothers so they still have the same last name!)

Then a few years ago, Vicky found Faye, and then Ann, on Facebook and we all joyfully reconnected. We had large families in common, and we discovered that like my family, who lost my sister in a car accident, Ann and Faye had lost their brother, Tommy, the same way.

Fast forward to last week when Ken and I were driving through Arkansas on our way home to Missouri from a visit with our son and his family in Texas. Ken always likes to take the scenic backroads and it wasn’t long before I realized the scenery was looking very familiar. We were on the Talimena Scenic Byway winding through the Ouachita National Forest. Suddenly it was as if I was a little girl again, riding through that pretty part of the country on my way to see Ann!

And I was! I knew Ann had moved away from Norman when she married, but I wondered if maybe her new town was on our route. I looked it up and discovered it was only a little off the beaten path. I messaged her and we arranged to meet with her and her husband at a favorite restaurant of theirs, Jamie’s.

When we got out of our cars, it was as if we were little girls again! Never mind the pandemic, we simply had to share a quick hug! It was so wonderful to spend time with my childhood long-distance friend, the one I’d shared so many secrets with growing up, through our letters. I’d worried a little bit that we wouldn’t have anything to talk about after almost half a century being out of touch! But it was as if no time had passed. Well, except that this time, instead of talking about boyfriends and school, we were comparing notes about our grandchildren!

Ken and Ann’s husband, Everett, teased us that we might never stop talking, but the two of them had a good visit too. We’ve both had long, happy marriages and we’re all still walking close with the Lord.

There’s a lot of truth to the old saying: Make new friends, but keep the old… One is silver and the other gold. That is certainly true of my friendship with Ann. It is gold! I’m so glad the Lord gave us another chance to meet face to face. What a blessing.

Have you ever had a pen pal? Have you kept in touch? I’d love to hear your story in the comments below!

Inspired by Scripture

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A Stolen Bible Used by God

This is the third and final blog post in my Lost & Found series! (If you missed the first two installments, you can find them here and here).

My heartfelt thanks to Susie Pederson whose beautiful story I’m sharing with you today. It’s a testament to how God often works in ways that we perceive as disappointing because we’re unable to comprehend the big picture. It’s a huge blessing when He gives us a peek at His plan!

“So this is a different type of lost and found story because I didn’t find what I lost, but something oh so much better. When I was eighteen, I was growing up as a missionary kid in a developing country. On a high school trip, a vehicle was robbed on the highway and my bag was stolen. As inconvenient as it was to now be on a week-long trip with no clothes but the ones I was wearing, the thing that devastated me the most was the loss of my Bible and prayer journal. The Bible had been a gift when my family left a different country several years prior and was very special to me. Two years earlier, my family had dealt with a home invasion/robbery and I came away from that praising God that my Bible wasn’t stolen because it was more precious than anything else.

So here I was at eighteen struggling with intense feelings of anger, betrayal, and hatred for the heartless crimes committed against me. I was hurt. I poured out my anger before the Lord, and He whispered to the darkest, most hurt, part of me: pray for them.

I didn’t want to. It felt impossible. Eventually, I began listening to that whisper and started praying for the people who stole my things, the people who felt that violence and theft were the best options, the people who left intangible scars on me.

Fast forward eleven years. As an adult, I was serving in the same country with the same mission organization my parents served with. I went on a trip deep into the jungle with some colleagues.

We traveled from village to village by small boat assessing literacy in the region. One pastor and his wife hosted our group. For the entire trip, we had been traveling through rain and mud, dealing with unsavory creatures and I was struggling in a lot of ways emotionally.

As we sat on the bamboo floor of our host in this remote village, he shared a story of how more than ten years ago he had been a part of a group of young men who stole from others. One time they got a bag that had a Bible and a journal in it. He read them and they changed his heart. He trusted Christ and continued to study scripture. He felt God calling him to return to his home village to minister to the youth and help keep them off the path he had taken.

Sitting on that rough-hewn floor, the room barely lit by one small lantern, tears rolled down my cheeks as I felt God’s whisper again: I can do more than you can imagine. This is just a small taste. Be faithful. Keep praying. Believe big. Trust me.

That three-week trip changed my life in so many ways. I served in the country for seven years and saw miracle after miracle. God has no limitations. His love knows no bounds. He can use the most broken individuals to accomplish His purpose. He cares for the people we hate and loves us enough to help us love them too. He is always present and always enough.

My faith will never be the same.” -Susie Pederson

How has God encouraged you lately? Has He given you a peek at how He’s at work?

The Reality of Romance

Romance is hard work.

In our novels, we often stop at the point that a couple is discovering and leaning into their new love — unless it’s a marriage of convenience, and then they have to learn to love each other as newly married strangers. They go through struggles to reach that point, real barriers, but then the book closes with an acknowledgment that life won’t necessarily be easy, but as long as they have each other they will make it.

I love reading a well crafted romance with a richly layered hero and heroine. I may know it’s a foregone conclusion they will get together, but I want to remember the fun of young love.

I love going to weddings and anniversary celebrations. Joining with others as we dance and celebrate.

Then there are weeks like this one. A week where I hear about a high profile couple that is separating, and my heart becomes heavy. Anyone who’s been married past the honeymoon phase will tell you marriage is work. It takes intentionality and effort to keep the relationship healthy through the seasons of real life. The merging of two unique people with their stuff and lives. The addition of one or more disruptive little humans. The question of which career will take the lead for a season. Aging parents. Illness. Job loss or change. There are so many seasons and points that can put stress and strain on this key relationship.

When the stress becomes intense, it takes a willing humbleness to seek help. My husband and I call those tune-ups that have helped us at different points. This week, I’ve been reminded not to take it for granted that my husband and I are in a good season as we near twenty-five years. That hasn’t always been the case, and we have benefitted from dogged determination at times. I am blessed to have a husband who is willing to work on and for us. Not everyone does. I have watched and prayed as dear friends and family endured a divorce they desperately didn’t want–reinforcing that both have to want to make the marriage work.

Marriage is a living parable of the relationship Jesus wants to have with each of us. That is why it is under constant attack. This week I’ve been reminded to pray for the marriages around me including my own.

I think this is why the books we write are important, too. There’s such value to showing what can be. The reminder that we can love each other like Jesus does –even if it’s a shadow of how He loves. I still think about one of Rachel Hauck’s books where the theme was loving well. That resonated and impacted me on a deep level. I now find myself asking if I am loving well.

That’s part of the power of fiction.

Today I want to giveaway a copy of my latest novel. This romance had so many barriers…it was almost too much fun to write.

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God’s Sense of Humor

Hi friends,

Mike and I celebrated twenty-eight years of marriage this week. Twenty-eight years. We were so young when we married, and we married quickly. We’d only been dating three weeks when Mike proposed, and we were married four months after that. Two months later, I found out we were expecting our first child. Our friends and, to be fully transparent, our families gave our marriage the shelf life of a banana. But here we are twenty-eight years later with two beautiful daughters, a sweet son-in-law, and two blond grandsons running around causing mayhem and bringing such joy to our life.

We met when Mike asked me to dance, and I can honestly say it’s turned out to be the dance of a lifetime. It hasn’t always been perfect by any means, but we’ve—through the grace of God—stuck through it. This is where God’s sense of humor comes in. We’re both stubborn to a fault, strong-willed and, strangely enough, our version of flirting looks more like squabbling to outsiders. We truly believe, our kids included, that the Trinity looked at the two of us and God said, “You want to see something hilarious? Let’s put these two together.”

It’s definitely been a hilarious ride, even through the roughest times. When my health tanks, or my depression flares, Mike still finds a way to make me laugh. We rely on each other, and we treasure the same things—our faith, family, the beach, cuddling on the couch with a fun movie, and going for hikes. In regard to writing, he’s my harshest critic and my strongest supporter.

Today and every day, I’m thankful to God for pairing us—even if it was out of humor. As Vanessa Redgrave says in Letters to Juliet, “Life is the messy bits.” And, it’s in the messy bits where we’ve found the strongest part of our love. We always say…

“If you live to be a hundred, I want to live to be a hundred minus one day, so I never have to live without you.” –A.A. Milne, Winnie the Pooh

Reader Question: How long have you been married? What’s one of your favorite memories? If you’re not married yet, and you could meet your husband anywhere in the world, where would you want to meet him?

I can’t wait to hear your answers!

May God bless and keep you,

Dani

Turning Over A New Leaf

Hear that? That’s the collective sound of many people turning over a new leaf—myself included.

Some people think of January as the time for change and resolutions, but for me this year, it’s autumn.

I love autumn leaves—especially red ones! (Getty images)

Labor Day has passed, the symbolic end of summer, and the temperatures are cool and crisp (at least here in Minnesota). The new school year has started (although it looks different this year and presents many challenges to teachers, parents, and students alike). And it’s time to put away the white capris and pull out jeans again. Jeans that no longer quite fit.

Summer has always been a time I tend to fall out of routines and this year all the more with COVID extending our “time off,” so to speak. For me, it’s been months of too much junk food, too much television, too much self-indulgence and not enough self-discipline.

Love this quote and drawing. (Available as wall art from Etsy.)

Even though my sons are grown, I’ve resolved to “send myself back to school,” and return to something resembling normal routines: Cooking healthier meals (hello vegetables, I’ve missed you!), exercising more, spending more consistent time in God’s word, and working regular hours.

What about you—does the end of summer signal any changes for you this year? Are you ready to turn over a new leaf, too?

Small Miracles

Today is my mother’s birthday. She will be 95. Unfortunately, she will be celebrating it in the hospital this year, virtually alone because of Covid. A week ago, she fell while tending her flower bed and broke her hip. Mom is a lifelong Christian and an amazing example to her family of what a life of faith looks like. She is also a prayer warrior. I have been asking all of my friends to pray for her recovery, and I was reminded of this blog that I wrote about Mom ten years ago. I hope it will encourage you today to keep praying for miracles.

SMALL MIRACLES

I have a story to tell about one of God’s small miracles. A true story. If I made it part of the plot of a novel, the “coincidence” would be unbelievable.

Last Christmas, I attended a concert at Moody Church in downtown Chicago with two couples from our Bible study group. My husband Ken performed in the concert. Before the music started, I was talking with my friend Peggy about the pain she still experienced from a car accident a few years ago. I mentioned that my 85-year-old mother, who has a quiet, one-woman prayer ministry, had been praying for her.

A stranger seated in front of me suddenly turned around and said, “Would your mother please pray for me, too?” He told me his name was Shad—short for Shadrach—and he explained how he was also in great pain and had trouble sleeping at night. “What’s your mother’s name?” he asked. “If she’ll pray for me, I’ll pray for her.” We exchanged information, the concert began, and Shad and I didn’t talk again.

Every morning, my mother (who lives 800 miles away from me) faithfully prays for her daughters, sons-in-law, twelve grandchildren and their spouses, and her eleven great-grandchildren—along with countless other people she hears about, like my friend Peggy. She added Shad to her list. In fact, she told me that he often came to her mind—sometimes in the night—and she prayed for him then. Most of Mom’s prayers are answered in amazing ways, but there have been some prayers that have gone unanswered for a long, long time. She rarely asks for prayer for herself, but I knew of one particular need in her life that she was trusting God to answer—and He just didn’t seem to be listening.

Four months after the Christmas concert, I returned to Moody Church with two friends on Easter Sunday to hear my husband play for their morning service—a glorious musical experience that always makes me feel like I’m in heaven, listening to the angels sing. When Mom heard that I would be returning to Moody Church she said, “Oh, maybe you’ll see Shad again. Find out how he’s doing. I think of him so often when I pray.”

“Impossible,” I told her. “Finding him would be like finding a needle in a haystack!”

For one thing, I couldn’t even remember what he looked like, since he sat in front of me the last time. And for another, the auditorium at Moody holds close to 4,000 people and every seat is filled on Easter. I found it impossible to imagine that I would cross paths with Shad again, especially since I would be sitting in a completely different part of the auditorium this time. But for Mom’s sake, I did look around half-heartedly that morning, eyeing the nametags that ushers and some church members wore, looking for one that said “Shad.” My friend asked me who I was searching for and I told her the story. She agreed it would be nearly impossible to find a man whose face I couldn’t recall. I didn’t even pray that God would help me find him because I didn’t really believe He would answer such a difficult prayer.

A few minutes before the service started, I happened to overhear a conversation behind me. The two men who were talking had never met, so they introduced themselves. One of them said, “Nice to meet you. My name is Shad—short for Shadrach.”

No! Impossible! Right behind me?

I whirled around with tears in my eyes and reminded Shad how we had met at Christmas. He told me that my mother’s prayers were being answered. I marveled at how God had put him right behind me in an audience of nearly 4,000 people and he said, “You know, I started to sit farther back, but I heard the Lord telling me to move up. And there was only one empty seat—right behind you.”

I couldn’t wait to call Mom and tell her the story. Finding Shad was indeed a miracle, but I believe the even bigger miracle was that God would orchestrate this impossible reunion just to encourage His faithful, sometimes discouraged, prayer warrior. He wanted to let Mom know in a personal, seemingly impossible way that He loved her and was listening to her every word when she prays. He truly did hear all of her prayers, even the unanswered ones.

But this Easter miracle was meant for me, as well. I have no trouble believing in God’s big miracles like the Christmas story and the empty tomb—I was praising Him that morning for the miracle of His resurrection from the dead. But for the small things in my life? Surely God was too busy to micro-manage the little details. I have a few unanswered prayers of my own that I’ve been praying about for a long, long time. But when I consider the size of the crowd filling the auditorium—and overflowing into a second hall with a video screen—I can’t deny that He performed a miracle that Resurrection Sunday. Only He could put the very stranger I was searching for in the seat right behind mine.

My prayer time has been re-energized by my “chance” meeting with Shad. And I’ll continue to pray for all of the impossible, unanswered needs on my list. Because the God who is listening is a God of small miracles as well as big ones.