Becky Wade's Blog, page 155

Coastal Guardians Wilmington Virtual Tour

Hi friends,

I’m so happy to be with you all today. Although it’s only been a couple of week, it feels like it’s been longer. Things moved so slow for a while, in a very good way, that I got used to the quiet and the stillness. I was so thankful when I was finally able to see my daughter, her hubby and the grandbabies. Not seeing them was torture. My oldest grandson is in kindergarten and with schools closed for the rest of this ‘school year,’ his teacher is doing some really fun online activities for the kids. Last week they went on a virtual field trip to the zoo.

Today I thought I would take you on a virtual tour of Wilmington, NC and Wrightsville Beach, where my Coastal Guardians series takes place.

First, we’re going to stop off at my hubby’s and my favorite place when we travel down there–Dockside Restaurant just over the bridge from Wrightsville Beach. The CGIS team featured in my Coastal Guardian series eats there often and so do Mike and I when we’re down for a week. We sit out on the deck and watch boats pull up to the pier, people tie in, and then head up the ramp straight into the restaurant’s outdoor seating area. I love that they have a boat drive-thru.

Next up, is The Latimer House in Wilmington proper. It was originally built in 1852 by local merchant Zebulon Latimer. It was occupied by three generations of Latimers before it was passed to the Lower Cape Fear Historical Society in 1963.

To learn more about visiting the Latimer House either in person or via a virtual video tour visit courtesy of The Lower Cape Fear Historical Society.

Our last stop for today is the Wilmington Riverwalk. It’s beautiful. The pictures don’t do it justice. There’s something about following the path between the beautiful restaurants with large porches and outdoor seating on one side and the winding Cape Fear river on the other. This is another spot Mike and I love to visit.

One last thing…the first book in my Coastal Guardian series, The Killing Tide, is on sale on e-book for $1.99 for a limited time. And, if you pre-order The Crushing Depths you’ll get exclusive content. You can find all the details here. 

I’ll be continuing my virtual tour of the home of the Coastal Guardian team in my Instagram feed. Hope you’ll drop by and join me.

Question for you: Have you ever been to Wilmington or to North Carolina? If so, I’d love to know your favorite spot.  If not, would you like to visit one day?

May God bless and keep you,

Dani

Seeking Comfort in Hard Times

In the midst of a worldwide pandemic and widespread unrest, my family and friends have suffered a loss that strikes much closer to home. We lost a good friend.

Over 22 years ago now, when my oldest was a newborn, I made a group of friends through an Early Childhood Education class. We were all first-time mothers and have been friends ever since. We have shared innumerable play dates and outings to museums, zoos, parades, etc. We have co-hosted baby showers, birthday parties, Christmas and Valentine’s Day parties and along the way become honorary aunts and uncles to each other’s children. We have gone on many camping trips together and oh, the stories we tell and the memories we share from those early days of learning to be moms and dads.

My husband and Jesse on our first camping trip.

As our children grew older and got busy with their own pursuits, we moms continued to get together for coffee and commiserating over school year challenges, teenage struggles, driver’s tests and first dates, to college applications.

A few weeks ago, one of these dear friends and her son were diagnosed with Covid-19. Soon her daughter and husband were feeling ill too. The son and daughter quickly recovered. My friend suffered terribly for a few weeks at home before recovering as well. Her sweet husband, however, found it increasingly difficult to breathe and was eventually hospitalized and put on a ventilator. We all prayed so hard. Were so sure he would recover. Sent encouraging texts and left food and flowers on their doorstep, and kept praying.

But he did not recover.

He died late last week and his funeral is tomorrow. At times like these, it’s hard to understand God’s will.

Our friends in Italy last year.

My friend is naturally devastated. And her kids—one who graduated online from high school and the other from college while their Dad was in ICU—are no doubt struggling as well. They are young adults, yes, but still need their Dad.

They were able to see him before he passed. That must have been some comfort when so many have had to die alone during this pandemic. But still… So. Hard.

I realize my loss is minimal compared to theirs and to so many others who are suffering in our world right now. I don’t have any great insights to offer. But it’s my turn to blog and I don’t feel up to promoting a book or talking about favorite authors or future travels. I keep reminding myself that, “this world is not our home; we’re just passing through,” but my heart still hurts.

I have no words of wisdom to offer. Instead, I’m seeking comfort the only way I know how. From God’s word. In case anyone else reading this is struggling with similar sadness today, here are a few verses I find comforting. I hope you to, too.

If any of you lacks wisdom, you should ask God, who gives generously to all without finding fault, and it will be given to you. —James 1:5

The fear of the LORD is the beginning of wisdom; all those who practice it have a good understanding. His praise endures forever! —Psalm 111:10

“Father, if it is Your will, take this cup away from Me; nevertheless not My will, but Yours, be done.” —Luke 22:42

For this God is our God for ever and ever: he will be our guide even unto death. —Psalm 48:14

Trust in the LORD with all your heart, and do not lean on your own understanding. In all your ways acknowledge him, and he will make straight your paths. —Proverbs 3:5&6

 Have you not known? Have you not heard? The LORD is the everlasting God, the Creator of the ends of the earth. He does not faint or grow weary; his understanding is unsearchable. —Isaiah 40:28

And he said, “Naked I came from my mother’s womb, and naked shall I return. The LORD gave, and the LORD has taken away; blessed be the name of the LORD.” — Job 1:21

 For I know that my Redeemer lives, and at the last he will stand upon the earth. —Job 19:25

Fear not, for I am with you; be not dismayed, for I am your God; I will strengthen you, I will help you, I will uphold you with my righteous right hand. —Isaiah 41:10

No eye has seen no ear has heard, and no mind has imagined what God has prepared for those who love him. —1 Corinthians 2:9b

Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of compassion and the God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our troubles, so that we can comfort those in any trouble with the comfort we ourselves have received from God. For just as the sufferings of Christ flow over into our lives, so also through Christ our comfort overflows. If we are distressed, it is for your comfort and salvation; if we are comforted, it is for your comfort, which produces in you patient endurance of the same sufferings we suffer. —2 Corinthians 1: 4-7

Any you would add? Either way, thank you for being here today.

All the Promises

My novel All the Promises (originally titled Silver Bells) is free for Kindle today via BookBub, and I thought you might enjoy hearing a bit about how it came to be. Grab your free ebook HERE, then grab a cup of coffee or tea and enjoy this story behind the story.

This was such a fun book to write, especially since it was set in the 1970s—the years when I was falling in love with my husband, Ken. While my story is completely fictional, many aspects of the novel were inspired by my own life (and Ken’s). My talented husband also designed the beautiful cover for the Out of Their Element collection, which became the current cover for All the Promises.

This book has been published under a couple of titles and with several cover designs—one version for Christmas and one without the focus on Christmas so the book can sell and be enjoyed year-round.

Like Michelle Penn (my heroine in All the Promises), I grew up the daughter of a Kansas farmer. The oldest of five children, I had the happiest childhood imaginable. Much of that joy came from the fact that I had a mother who read to me—especially after I developed asthma and was unable to play outside during much of the year because the wheat and hay our farm produced were the two things that triggered my asthma attacks. But my mom opened up the whole world to me when she taught me the joy of a wonderful story! I knew the summer I read all of Laura Ingalls Wilder’s Little House books that someday I wanted to write a book.

Like my heroine Michelle from All the Promises, I attended Kansas State University in Manhattan, Kansas. In fact, my dad and all my siblings attended or graduated from K-State. And like Michelle, I really wasn’t too torn up when I dropped out of college to marry my husband, because the real dream of my life was to have babies—lots and lots of babies.

As Michelle did, I worked as a typesetter and proofreader for several small-town newspapers. I started my first newspaper job back when page layout was done with an X-Acto knife and a waxer, and just before computers revolutionized the process of getting a weekly newspaper put to bed. What fun it was to write the scenes in the newspaper office!

The “newfangled microwave” incident in All the Promises was inspired by the fact that my husband’s family owned one of the first microwave ovens in their county. They won the oven as a prize in their small town’s Holiday Lane drawing. This amazing contraption that could boil water in a matter of seconds, and pop popcorn in under two minutes, was quite the attraction! Ken’s friends would often follow him home from school to watch his demonstrations of exploding marshmallows or melted plastic (and some other fiascos I’m not sure his mother knows about to this day, so to protect the innocent I’ll save those stories for another day.)

As I wrote the novel, it was sometimes sobering to explore how much we’ve changed as a society in less than fifty years. Technology has revolutionized every aspect of our lives—some for the good, but others in truly frightening ways. Still, one thing I realized as I wrote the novel is that families have remained the backbone of our culture, and the place where God grows us into the people He wants us to be. My parents have been such an inspiration to me, and my dad is still a place I go for wisdom and advice about life. I was also blessed to have all my grandparents in my life well into my forties. What a wonderful blessing and source of wisdom and faith they were in my life. And an example to me now that nine (soon to be ten!) precious little ones call me “Mimi.”

Many readers have commented that they enjoyed turning back the calendar a few decades to a simpler time before technology got such a grip on our world. Yet, as much as we’d sometimes like to harken back to simpler times, thankfully, our God is ever unchanging, ever-dependable and steady, and His goodness and care for us is as certain and strong in this twenty-first century as it ever was in the past. It was such fun writing a story set in a recent past that many of my readers remember fondly. But most of all, I hope the story serves as a reminder that Jesus Christ is the same…yesterday and today and forever.

If you’d like to get notifications whenever I have a new book releasing or when one of my books is free or on sale, follow me on BookBub! All the authors of Inspired by Life…and Fiction have BookBub profiles and we’d love to have you follow us there. It’s a great way to see an author’s entire collection of books, get news of new releases, and find out about sales and giveaways. Here are the links for the whole gang:

Tamera Alexander

Lynn Austin

Robin Lee Hatcher

Jody Hedlund

Julie Klassen

Anne Mateer

Dani Pettrey

Cara Putman

Deborah Raney

Becky Wade

Karen Witemeyer

Inspired by Scripture

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2020: The Year of Exceptional Hardships

2020 has sure been a year of hardships, hasn’t it?

I can’t even begin to list all the hardships I’ve experienced so far since New Year’s Day. (I tried, but the list was too depressing, so I deleted it!)

One of the most recent difficulties (amidst everything else going on in the country and world), is that my little town of Midland in central Michigan experienced devastating flooding.

The day started like any other Michigan May day. Lots of rain, but not much more than usual. Though there were flood warnings issued for the Tittabawassee River (which is a normal-sized river), I didn’t think anything of the warnings. The river rises to flood level a couple of times a year, and it’s never a big deal. Especially because I live over TWO miles away from the river.

Here’s a picture of my son fishing in the Tittabawassee in April. See, not too big, right?

[image error]

Well, that evening with perfectly sunny skies and beautiful spring weather, our phones started going crazy with that super loud alert notice. And when we read the message, we were all like, “What?! We have to evacuate our home because of an imminent flood?”

The Edenville Dam that holds back Wixom Lake to the north of Midland had collapsed and all the water from the lake was gushing down the Tittabawassee River toward Midland. To make matters worse, another lake and dam were in the path of all this water in Sanford. Because of the pressure of too much water, the Sandford Dam was compromised and leaking, with the potential to burst.

All that to say, Midland was only hours away from being flooded by the water from at least one lake, possibly two.  And our house was in the area of Midland that experts determined could face flooding. Did I mention that we’re over TWO miles away from the river?

Shocked at the news, we frantically packed our bags and attempted to move as much as we could out of our basement. Friends quickly reached out to us and invited us (and our five cats) come stay with them.

As it turned out, the river ran down our street and came up to the curb. All the sewer drains filled with river water and poured in to people’s homes through their basements. Like everyone else in the area, our basement was full of river water (or lake water!), which destroyed carpet, walls, belongings, and appliances.

[image error]The water covering my street!



Photo Credit: Ben Tierney’s Facebook Page

While we lost a great deal including our washing machine, dryer, and freezer, believe it or not, we were actually on the lower end of the damage scale. Many in our surrounding neighborhoods had their foundations collapse from all the water pressure. Others had water so high that it destroyed the flooring on the first level. Still others had it into their first floor.  Whole houses unlivable. Some condemned, too unsafe for their owners to even return to salvage belongings.

Driving through our neighborhood in the days after the flooding was heart-wrenching. The enormous piles of flood-damaged stuff on the curbs was staggering. Even though the clean-up crews have been working from dawn until dusk removing the debris, the damage is still there both physically and emotionally.

Just one of our piles of ruined stuff

As I consider the tragedy, I’m still very saddened. But as I live through the aftermath, I’ve been reading Ann Voskamp’s book, The Broken Way, which is all about how to live in a broken world. Here are a couple of quotes that have encouraged me:

“Jesus with his pierced side is always on the side of the broken. Jesus always moves into places moved with grief. Jesus always seeks out where the suffering is, and that’s where Jesus stays.”

“Wounds can be openings to the beauty in us. And our weaknesses can be a container for God’s glory . . . God does great things through the greatly wounded.”

Credit: Ann Voskamp’s Facebook Page

How about YOU? How has 2020 been a hard year for you?

New Release – At Love’s Command

I’m so excited to share the first book in a new series with you! If you like your cowboys rugged on the outside and tenderhearted on the inside, and your heroines feisty, strong, and independent, this is the book for you.

Amazon | Barnes & Noble | Christianbook

Here’s an excerpt from where Matthew Hanger, ex-cavalry officer and leader of the famed Hanger’s Horsemen meets his match. Enjoy!

“Dr. Joe!” he yelled as he halted Phineas. “Get out here! Got a man down.”

He pulled his right foot from the stirrup, braced his left leg, and shifted Wallace’s weight against his shoulder. Slowly, he swung his right leg over the back of the horse, concentrating on keeping Mark steady.

“Here. Let me help.” A woman reached up to support Wallace and take a goodly portion of his weight.

Where was the doc? Didn’t seem right for a woman to be doing the heavy lifting. Though, Matt had to admit, the female seemed capable. Strong, too. She propped Wallace’s back up as Matt eased to the ground. As soon as he got his foot free of the stirrup, he relieved her of her portion of the burden and caught Wallace beneath the knees.

The sensible woman didn’t stand around gaping but immediately pivoted and scurried back to the office door, pushed it in, and held it open. “Bring him this way.”

Matt had already followed on her heels and angled Wallace to get through the door. The nurse—for that was what she must be, with her bibbed white apron and dark blue dress—seemed to catalog Wallace’s condition with her gaze as Matt eased him past her.

“Gunshot?” she asked as she scooted around him in the hall and led the way to an oak-paneled room filled with glass cabinets and a wooden examination cabinet.

“Yep.” That was about all the answer Matt could manage while lugging around 175 pounds of dead weight.

Seemed to suit the nurse, though, for she asked nothing more. Just skittered around the cabinet and stomped on a pedal of some sort. The inclined table lowered into a horizontal position.

“Lay him here.”

Matt did so. The woman immediately pressed two fingers to Wallace’s neck.

“Weak, but regular. That’s a good sign.”

Matt nodded, the words easing his apprehension enough to allow him to take a full breath. But then the woman started unwrapping the bandages.

Matt slapped his hand over her wrist. Her head jerked up. Shocked eyes flew wide. Shocked, remarkably green eyes. The kind of eyes that would make a man forget what he was about. Or would have, if he wasn’t in charge of fetching competent medical attention for a man he loved like family.

“The kid’s lost enough blood already. I just as soon wait for the doctor to get here before you go unraveling things.”

Those wide eyes narrowed as she tugged her hand free of his grasp. She straightened to her full height, which placed the top of her head even with his chin. “The doctor is here,” she said, enunciating each unbelievable word with metronomic precision. “Dr. Josephine Burkett at your service.”

Dr. Joe was a woman?

“Now, if you and your antiquated assumptions will get out of my way,” she said as she pushed past him and reached for the bandages once again, “I have a patient to tend.”

Matthew Hanger definitely has his hands full! And Josephine isn’t quite as immune as she pretends. Each are used to being in charge, both will have to learn to surrender.

This is my first book cover to highlight the hero instead of the heroine. It seemed fitting for a series linked by a group of horsemen, but what do you think? Do you miss the heroine on the cover?

Debut Novelist Kimberly Duffy

I’m excited to introduce you to debut novelist Kimberly Duffy! Her first book, A Mosaic of Wings, released last month. I’m looking forward to reading this historical fiction set in late 19th century India! I decided to save it for after the big move with my daughter so I wouldn’t be distracted. Enough said. Now here’s Kimberly:

My husband broke our car in an effort to find his passport this winter. I didn’t realize it until a few weeks ago because he was able to jam it shut, but then the glove box door flipped open and smacked my knee.

I hate broken things.

They make me feel anxious, out of control, and I tend to obsess over them until they’re fixed.

Broken glove boxes, broken photo frames, broken furniture, broken relationships.

Broken people.

Not that I hate broken people, but I do want to fix them. To understand why they’re shattered. To figure out how to put them back together again. I like answers. Concrete and undeniable. This whole grey-space living? So uncomfortable.

My child has ADD…was it because I ate a vegan diet when I nursed her?

My friend is struggling with depression. Is there anything I can do to help her regain her balance?

My sibling is suffering from a trauma decades old. Why can she not find freedom?

I need to understand, God.

I have four decades of living in this broken, fractured, far-from-ideal world. Four decades of watching people stumble around, battered hearts held in scarred palms. Four decades of self-examination, trying to make sense of my own splintered soul.

Twenty years of living and loving a man whose own memories are stabbed by shards of abuse and neglect.

Lord, how do I heal his pain?

Four kids who have, no matter how much I’ve tried to make the best decisions—the right decisions—experienced pain and trial and struggle.

Lord, what have I done to cause this?

Years of watching friends whose lives are turned upside down by pornography, adultery, unfulfilled dreams, illness, and loss.

Lord, there must be SOMETHING I can do to fix this.

But there is nothing. It’s his pain. Their journey. Her decision.

And I’m beginning to see there’s a kind of bittersweet beauty in those empty spaces and broken places. Fixing them—piecing everything back together with glue and thread—isn’t meant to be the answer.

Because it’s in our brokenness that we yearn for eternity. It’s when we begin to crack and show signs of tension and stress that we recognize our need for salvation. It’s into those unanswered questions and grey spaces that God whispers.

By my stripes, you are healed.

In your weakness, my power is made perfect.

I am near the brokenhearted. The crushed in spirit.

I’ve been writing a long time and there are certain things you can expect from my books—a lush setting with descriptive passages inspired by teen years spent reading classic novels, a sprinkle of romance that builds slowly, and always, by design, characters who are tattered and broken.

Maybe it’s because they are the only type of people I’m actually able to fix. Or maybe it’s because I’m a little obsessed with all the grace that fills ugly, hopeless, empty places. But whatever the reason, I hope readers see the beauty of brokenness in my stories. And then consider that, perhaps, it’s not our job to patch everything up so that seams match and things work just so and all the answers are fleshed out and spilled in ink upon life’s pages.

Because there’s a God who is strong in our frailty. His stitches, his mending, his filling and repairing is all we can rely on. And even where it seems things are unrepairable—unanswerable—His grace is made sufficient.

Channeling my inner Annie Sloan

Have you ever painted with chalk paint? If yes, then you’re my new BFF.

Joe and I recently moved into a house we had built in the modern farmhouse style—waving to you, Joanna Gaines—and now I find myself “hankering” (I love that word, it’s so good & Southern) to paint some of our furniture.

First, my parent’s king bed . . .

I love the bed but the brown finish just isn’t what I want for this house. So I’m channeling my inner Annie Sloan and am going to paint the bed a Graphite color, but with Jolie paint instead!

Ever heard of Jolie paint? Neither had I but it comes highly recommended by Pretty Distressed’s Christina Muscari so I’ve taken the plunge and am going to try it.

TRIVIA ALERT— See the mirrored piece of furniture in the background of the first pic above? That’s a chiffarofe and it was actually the very first piece of furniture Mom and Dad bought together after they married, which makes it even more special now that they’re both Home with Jesus.

The next item to be painted is a lighted etagere that was Mom’s. She actually had two of them, so my brother got one and I got the other.

I’m painting this piece in Annie Sloan’s Duck Egg Blue, which has long been a favorite color of mine.

These pieces of furniture (the etagere and bed) have been in storage for the last couple of years but I’ve cleaned them really well, am letting them dry, then will start painting—after I reach my daily word count goal, of course. Hey, incentives work for me, what can I say?!

I’ll be sure and post some “after” pics when I’m done. Hopefully in a couple of weeks. But in all seriousness, if you’ve chalk painted before and have any advice to give me, I’m all ears! This is my first chalk painting experience!

Finally, in the midst of this crazy pandemic and now in the painful shadow of last week’s killings and the subsequent rioting in cities across this nation, I find myself alternating between grief and mourning one minute, then anger and disgust in the next minute at the injustice of these killings. And at the injustice of the rioters looting and destroying and stealing. As a dear friend wrote yesterday, it’s “sad and scary and depressing. Come, Lord Jesus!”

I agree. Maranatha, indeed!

I’m so incredibly grateful, now more than ever, that God is in control, that all things hold together through Christ, and that the Holy Spirit is fully capable of leading us down the roads God chooses for us. Especially when they’re difficult roads we would never have chosen for ourselves or our friends and loved ones.

He is all powerful and sovereign. So we can rest in his peace, even though it may feel like the world is coming apart at the seams. He’s got you. And he’s got me!

Much love from my corner of Nashville,

Tamera

Have you seen this new video about the McGavock Cemetery at Carnton, the setting of my Carnton novels?

AVAILABLE JULY 7

New Tricks

You can call me old-fashioned. I don’t mind, because in many ways, I am. I have an e-reader, but I much prefer a “real” book. I have thousands of photographs on my phone, but I still print out my favorites and display them all over the house. I send and receive text messages, but it’s a special thrill to receive a hand-written letter from someone I love. I enjoy talking to my granddaughters on FaceTime, but it isn’t the same as holding them on my lap. And a family Zoom call this summer on Ken’s and my 50thwedding anniversary won’t be the same as celebrating with our loved ones in person.

In the past, I’ve been stubbornly technophobic, relying on my computer-savvy children, my assistant Christine, and when all else fails, the “Geek Squad” at Best Buy. I was convinced that there’s truth to the adage, “You can’t teach an old dog new tricks.” But I’m learning that old dogs actually can be taught new tricks when they’re forced to. My newest book, “If I Were You,” releases tomorrow, June 2, and since many of my tried-and-true methods of launching a new book are on lockdown, I’ve had to learn a lot of new tricks. So has my long-suffering husband who has become my videographer, technical assistant, Zoom coach, and a shoulder-to-cry-on as we’ve been sequestered at home with minimal computer skills and a very steep learning curve to negotiate.

I think we all feel pretty much the same in lamenting the changes the pandemic has brought. The question we ask again and again is, “When will things get back to normal?” We fear that the answer may be “never.” Facing unwanted change and an unknown future can wear a person down.

“If I Were You” is set in England during World War II, and I’ve come to realize that the generations who suffered through that war faced circumstances that were similar to what we’re currently enduring but on a much larger scale. They had no idea how long the war would last or who would win it, or if their loved ones would live or die. Their former lives had been turned upside down, forcing them to learn all sorts of new things, like how to sleep in a bomb shelter or cope with food shortages and rationing. We know how the war ended and that evil was ultimately defeated; they had no idea what would happen as the war dragged on for six long years in England and four years in the United States.

As a writer, I know that I must plunge my characters into troubling circumstances if I want them to grow and change. It’s the only way to motivate them to turn to God. And now I’m wondering if God might be using this pandemic to try to change some things in my life? Might He be trying to teach this old dog some new tricks? The Bible says, “suffering produces perseverance; perseverance, character; and character, hope.” (Romans 5:3) And while my actual suffering has been very minimal, especially compared to enduring a world war, my eyes have been opened to how I’ve taken so many wonderful things in my life for granted. Such as worshiping with other believers in church. Eating out with friends. Browsing through the bookstore or the library. Hopping on an airplane to visit my mom and sister in New York, or our son in California.

And I’m going to miss gathering with my friends and loyal readers in person this week to tell you about my newest book. It’s impossible to do it the “old fashioned” way for now, but I hope you’ll join me on Thursday, June 4 at 8:00 PM (EST) as I launch “If I Were You” in a brand-new way. Here is the link where you can register. Simply click on the picture.

So tell me, what new tricks have you learned during the past few months?

Inspired by Scripture

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