Christa Kinde's Blog, page 13

A writer’s job…

“A writer’s job is to imagine everything so personally that the fiction is as vivid as memories.” —John Irving

 

I am a collector of lovely things, useful things, silly things. There’s my egg collection, my shell collection, my pebble collection, and my collection of colored glass. I have boxes and jars of art supplies, drawers full of stationary, and case after case of books. Can you relate? What do you collect?

I’ve been accused of accumulating a formidable vocabulary, and I keep adding to the number of story ideas I want to turn into books. I also gather up encouragement wherever I can find it. Like the quotes for writers that are floating around everywhere on the internet. After three years of gleaning, I have heaps and piles. If you follow @ChristaKinde on Twitter, you’ll get a steady trickle every morning. And now that my collection has reached epic proportions, I added the @AuthorsAllies account, which tweets writing quotes around the clock. Follow me … and be encouraged!

“Beyond talent lie all the usual words: discipline, love, luck, but most of all, endurance.” —James Baldwin

“I try to pull the language into such a sharpness that it jumps off the page…It must look easy, but it takes me forever.” —Maya Angelou

“There is no perfect time to write. There is only now.” —Barbara Kingsolver

 

YouTube: Angels Devotional

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If you haven’t sneaked a peek yet, my YouTube channel is CJMK Books. In this week’s video, I read one of my favorites from Angels: A 90-Day Devotional about God’s Messengers [Zonderkidz]. Do you have a favorite moment from that “angel-tastic” collection?

ART: Baird

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Someone at church asked for pictures of Baird that show off his furled wings. This portrait may be the best representation in my stash of character art. Do you have a favorite picture of Baird? : )

 

Milo & Zeke: Two Out of Three

I haven’t posted one of these in a while! On Wednesday nights, I tell a story to our church’s Awana clubbers. Each story goes with our T&T verse for the week; in this case, I’ve linked it to Deuteronomy 31:6 – Be strong and of good courage, do not fear nor be afraid of them; for the LORD your God, He is the One who goes with you. He will not leave you nor forsake you. This one features Zeke’s two best friends—Jasper and Timothy.

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Section 1.7 – God is with You

Two out of Three

During Sunday school, Milo told the story of Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego, who were so brave, they were practically superheroes. Zeke’s stomach felt all tickly inside at the thought of someone asking him to stop being a Christian anymore. Daniel’s three friends decided they would believe in God, no matter what. Even if it meant they were going to die.

Zeke figured it must have been a little easier since there were three of them. It was easier to be brave when you weren’t alone. But maybe that was the whole point of the story of the fiery furnace. None of those guys had ever been alone. God was with them the whole time.

“Any prayer requests?” Milo asked.

Jasper, whose mind hadn’t been wandering, beat Zeke getting his hand in the air. The best friends always had the same prayer request every week, so they raced to see who’d be the one to say it to Milo.

“Me and Zeke,” said Jasper. “Our best friend isn’t a Christian. We wanna pray for Timothy.”

Maybe that was one of the reasons Zeke liked the story of Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego. He was part of three friends, too.

But the scary thing he had to face was different than a fiery furnace. Zeke was way more scared for his friend. He wanted Timothy to stay his friend forever and ever, but that couldn’t happen if Timothy didn’t love Jesus like him and Jasper.

After class, Zeke stayed back and told Milo about the fluttery scared feeling in his stomach and the wiggle in his knees when he thought about Timothy.

“You can’t believe for him,” Milo said gently. “Timothy will need to trust Jesus for himself.”

Zeke hung his head. He and Jasper had tried all kinds of ways to explain to their friend about how good it would be for him to be a Christian, but Timothy wasn’t interested. And lately, he would get angry at them for their “Bible bossing.” So Zeke and Jasper had to believe real quiet and pray without letting Timothy know. It was really confusing because they were trying to share something good with him.

Milo patted Zeke’s messy hair. “Until Timothy is ready to listen, there are other things you can do.”

“Like what?”

“Pray for him,” said Milo, holding up one finger.

“We already do, lotsa times and everything!” grumbled Zeke.

“Keep praying, then. Don’t give up just because the answer doesn’t come right away.” Milo added a second finger. “Be patient.”

“For how long?” Zeke asked.

“As long as it takes. But most importantly…” And here Milo held up a third finger. “Be his friend.”

“I already am!”

“Yes, and I’d be sad to see that change. Your friendship may not be enough to save Timothy, but it may be part of God’s plans. Timothy may not be ready to trust Jesus, but in the meantime, he can trust you.”

Zeke’s forehead furrowed. “I don’t get it. Say it again?”

Milo patiently explained, “Timothy doesn’t trust Jesus, but he trusts you. Someday, he may realize that the reason he can trust you is because you belong to Jesus … and that you love him like God does.”

Later, Zeke explained the new plan to Jasper, who got a funny look on his face. “We gotta be like Jesus?”

“Yeah … sorta. So Timothy can trust us.”

“But he already does. That’s what friends do.”

Zeke scrunched up his nose. “Well, yeah. That’s what I think, too. But Milo said if we’re like Jesus, Timothy will figure out about God and heaven and stuff.”

Jasper didn’t look convinced. “How are we supposed to be like Jesus?”

“Guess we gotta start by figuring out what Jesus was like.”

“Makes sense. There’s lotsa stories in the Bible.”

But even after reading every story in the church nursery’s Great Big Book of Bible Stories, Zeke didn’t have a plan. In fact, he was even more confused than before. Which could only mean one thing. It was time to ask Dad.

Zeke’s Dad was in charge of bedtime, which meant a Bible story (which really, truly happened), a just-for-fun story (which came from someone’s imagination), hugs and kisses, and one last prayer. And sometimes a pillow fight, if Momma wasn’t close enough to hear the ruckus and make them stop.

So that night, between the pillow fight and hugs and kisses, Zeke spoke up. “I gotta problem.”

Dad turned from straightening a picture on the wall. “Tell me about it.”

“Milo ’splained something to me, and it made sense when he said it, but it doesn’t anymore. So I need you to fix it. Otherwise, I can’t be Timothy’s Jesus.”

“Whoa, now, buddy.” Dad piled the last of the pillows back on the bed and sat in the middle, patting the space left on both sides. Zeke and Jude climbed back onto the big bed, one on each side of their daddy, who held them close. “Let’s back up. Is there a problem between you and Timothy?”

“Nope,” said Zeke. “He’s my best friend, same as always. But he doesn’t understand anything about Jesus.”

“Have you talked to him about it?”

“Yep. Me and Jasper both. But Timothy didn’t like it. He said no thanks, but not as nice.”

“So you want to know how to stay his friend, even though he doesn’t share your faith?”

“That’s closer, but nope. Because I am his friend, and that’s how it’ll stay. That part’s easy.”

“What’s the hard part?” asked Dad.

“Milo said me and Jasper can be his Jesus. Only except we checked, and that’s next door to impossible. For instance, I can’t walk on water!”

Dad frowned, but it was the kind of frown that grown-ups used to pretend they didn’t want to smile. “Zeke, I thought you said you fell into the duck pond.”

“I did. Right after I didn’t stay on top of the water.”

Jude giggled.

Zeke grinned at him.

Dad asked, “Did you try anything else?”

“Well, sure. I didn’t have loaves and fishes, but Grandma made me a tuna fish sandwich. So I prayed for it and divided it between the barn cats. They were real happy about it, but when they were done, my sammich was gone.”

Dad laughed a little and rumpled his hair. “You did seem especially hungry at dinner.”

“Starved!”

“I think I’m starting to understand.” Dad said, “You know how your Aunt Ida is a missionary?”

Both boys nodded. They loved stories about their Uncle Lo and Aunt Ida, who traveled all over the world.

“In the places my little sister goes, many people don’t have Bibles. They can’t read the stories that you and Jude know backwards and forwards. That’s why your auntie likes to say that she loves everyone she meets as hard as she can for the little while she’s there … because she might be the only Jesus they ever see.”

“Auntie’s a girl!”

“Yes, but she loves people like Jesus loves them.” Dad asked, “Is that close to what Milo tried to tell you earlier?”

“Yep.” That sounded right. Love Timothy like God does.

“You know, it might be easier to think of yourself as the friends of the man who needed Jesus, but couldn’t get to Him because of the crowds. Those friends ripped up the roof of the house where Jesus was teaching and lowered the man on a stretcher, right down to the floor in front of Jesus.”

“Did they get in trouble?” asked Zeke.

“Maybe a little, but the Lord praised their faith.” Dad said, “So in a way, you can be like Jesus to Timothy, and in another way, you’ll be the friend who carries Timothy to Jesus. But most of the time, you’ll just be Zeke. Because Timothy likes you, trusts you, and wants to spend time with you. And that will make a difference someday.”

Zeke asked, “Because I love Jesus?”

“That’s right, buddy. And it shows.”

The next weekend, Jasper and Timothy both got permission to go camping with Zeke and his brothers. Being a good friend was easy, especially since Timothy was … well, he was Timothy.

Zeke and Jasper were both pretty tall and pretty strong for their age, but Timothy was skinny and skittish. He ran screaming from crayfish in the creek, and he didn’t like to get too close to the campfire. He worried about snakes, poison ivy, and freckles. Zeke could understand the first two, but he wasn’t sure about the freckles. Timothy had so many already, nobody would notice if he added a few more.

But even though Timothy could be a scaredy-cat sometimes, he was always braver with Zeke and Jasper around. Sunderland State Park, where they always camped, was famous for its caves, and this time, Jasper and Zeke had convinced Timothy to take the tour. It would be okay, since they’d face the tunnels together.

Timothy had the biggest flashlight ever, but during the cave tour, the ranger told them to get ready to switch off their lights. So they could see how dark it was underground.

Timothy’s eyes got super big, and he looked ready to run.

But Zeke grabbed his arm and cheerfully said, “Be strong and of good courage.”

“What?” squeaked Timothy.

Jasper grabbed their friend’s arm on the other side, tucking it through his. He grinned and said, “Don’t be afraid. We’re with you.”

Zeke felt sneaky, quoting verses to a friend who didn’t want to know about God. But this was something their friend needed to hear. Lights were clicking off all around them when Zeke promised, “We won’t leave you. Not never.”

And Timothy might not have believed in God or Jesus, but he believed in Jasper and Zeke. Because even though his hands were shaking, he took a deep breath … and clicked off his flashlight.

Deuteronomy 31:6 – Be strong and of good courage, do not fear nor be afraid of them; for the LORD your God, He is the One who goes with you. He will not leave you nor forsake you.

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If you’re looking for more Milo & Zeke stories, use this blog’s Awana tag! ♥

Slouching a little so the seat provided cover, Prissie wh...

Slouching a little so the seat provided cover, Prissie whispered, “Can I see them again?”

Koji nodded and pushed back his hair, revealing the pointed tip of one ear.

—Threshold Series, Book One: The Blue Door

ART: Tamaes

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Young Warrior. One of my favorite pictures of a very young Tamaes. Young hadarim must find their wings and lay claim to their place in the sky. [Art by Raka]

Angel Unaware, Part 24: Heartbreaker

Part Twenty-Four: Heartbreaker

Permissions granted, the boys pedaled full throttle to the Milton County fairgrounds. They added their bikes to the racks edging the parking lot and joined the line at the main entrance.

“My sister’s here somewhere,” Marcus remarked, scanning the crowds. “She was meeting up with Sheldon and some guys. His band, maybe?”

“Levi was cool.”

“Yeah, good guy.”

They skipped the maps and wandered around, getting a feel for things the same way they had all summer long—exploring, sampling, savoring. After circling the midway, Ransom’s stride shifted into something more purposeful. “I must have missed it,” he muttered.

“Looking for something?”

“Yeah. Did you notice anyplace selling cupcakes or anything?”

Marcus smirked. “You want to find the bakery guy?”

“Worth a try, right?”

“Yep.” Marcus cuffed his shoulder and aimed for the center of the fairgrounds. “I noticed something.”

They threaded past stands selling foot-long corn dogs and pink cotton candy. As screams from the roller coaster faded behind them, the smoky aroma of grilling meat wafted their way, quickly followed by the salty-sweet smell of a fresh batch of kettle corn.

Marcus stopped in front of a small red building. “This is the place.”

Ransom stared blankly. “It’s a popcorn stand.”

“Yep. A popcorn stand with a bakery case.”

Marcus waved to Brock and Joey, who stood off to one side of the building, talking to Neil, the almond flavoring and applesauce doughnut expert who also played football. But Ransom had his nose pressed to glass. “These are them!”

“Hello.” An older teen with brown hair falling into gray eyes leaned out the stand’s window. “The turnovers were made fresh this morning. With apples from our orchard.”

Ransom asked, “Are these from the bakery on Main Street?”

“Yes. Loafing Around is dad’s place.”

“Can I get a dozen?”

Money traded hands, and the guy behind the counter shook out a white bakery bag. He filled Ransom’s order … and then some.

“Hey, you put in one too many,” Ransom said.

“Family policy. Anyone who orders a dozen gets the baker’s dozen—thirteen.”

“Thanks!” Ransom took the bag but lingered at the window. “So your dad’s the baker? Is he around?”

“Somewhere.” The older boy pointed toward the midway. “He’s taking my little brothers around, so they’re probably on the rides right now.”

“Right. Of course. Maybe I’ll stop back.”

“Please do.”

Ransom moved aside because a line had formed behind him, and Marcus signaled from where he stood with their friends. Right away, Ransom doled out pastries.

“You sure?” asked Brock, though his hand was already in the bag.

“You gotta try these,” Ransom insisted, making sure both Joey and Marcus took one. “This place puts out the best stuff!”

Neil cheerfully accepted a turnover. “No argument here!”

Marcus smirked around a big bite. Wonder when Ransom will catch on that he’s feeding the baker’s son? Last names had never come up, so his friend hadn’t realized that Neil was a Pomeroy. He’d connect the dots eventually. Hard not to in a town this small.

For the rest of the morning and afternoon, Marcus scanned the crowds for any sign of his sister, but they didn’t run into Brenna. Instead, they crossed paths with Prissie.

She did a double-take. “You guys are really tan.”

Ransom slung an arm around Marcus’s shoulders. “Can’t blame a guy for his heritage.”

Prissie rolled her eyes. “No, really. You’re like, ten shades darker since school let out.”

“You think?”

“Makes sense.” Marcus shrugged out of Ransom’s headlock. “Didn’t you notice?”

“Dad said the same thing.” Comparing one forearm with the underside of the other, Ransom said, “We were outdoors for most of the summer.”

Prissie fiddled with the straw of the lemonade she must have just bought. “Both of you?”

“Yeah.” Ransom was clearly enjoying himself. “Every day.”

Marcus worked to hide a smile. This was like tugging yarn in front of a curious kitten. Prissie might not have liked them, but she couldn’t help pouncing.

“Jennifer spends her summers at the beach. Do you have a vacation home, too?”

“Hardly.” Ransom slyly added, “But we were at beaches. And mountains. And prairies. And forests. And caves. We were traveling!”

Prissie’s frown slowly faded. “You?”

“Us?” Ransom asked, all innocence.

“You … did you …?” Prissie’s grip on her cup was causing a dent.

Ransom looked to Marcus and asked, “Did we?”

Marcus gruffly said, “Yep. We did.”

“Yeah, we did.” Ransom beamed. “You didn’t guess?”

“But that’s mean!” Prissie took a step back. “I thought someone was trying to be nice, but you were only teasing.”

Ransom blinked. “Miss Priss. We weren’t trying to be mean.”

“Nope,” said Marcus.

“But I might have been bragging a little,” Ransom admitted. “It was a good trip.”

Prissie’s breaths came short and quick, and Marcus’s stomach knotted. She’s trying not to cry.

“You’re the worst!”

“Aw, geez, Miss Priss. Don’t be that way,” begged Ransom.

“What way?” she inquired huffily.

“Mad,” he said more quietly. “Don’t be mad. We thought of you all summer long.”

“You teased me all summer long!” Whirling, she ran away, blonde braids slapping her back.

Ransom turned to Marcus. “Did we?” he asked.

“Looks that way.”

“But we didn’t do it to be mean.”

“I know,” Marcus replied.

“She’s hard to figure,” Ransom grumbled.

“Yep.”

He stared after her, something like regret on his face. “I never meant it to be mean,” he whispered.

Marcus could only repeat, “I know.”

For the rest of the day, Ransom lapsed into the thoughtful silences that were another souvenir of their summer’s travels. Leaving Marcus with little else to do but wonder, watch, and worry.

When school resumed in September, hard stares and simmering glares forced them to retreat to the relative safety of their desks. Ransom muttered, “Guess she’s still mad.”

“Yep.”

“She liked getting the postcards.”

“Yep.”

“But she wanted them to be from someone other than me.”

“Us,” said Marcus.

Ransom snorted. “Get real.”

“Okay, you,” he conceded. “So leave her alone.”

“Yeah, I’ll steer clear.”

But the strategy only worked intermittently, because Prissie wouldn’t ignore Ransom back. She kept a hawk’s eye on him, as if she expected them to do something far more devious than sending out-of-state greetings. And under her scrutiny, Ransom casually drove her crazy.

“You’re teasing,” Marcus chided.

Ransom shrugged. “She’s going to be mad no matter what I do. Might as well have a little fun.”

“I don’t like how she treats you.”

“It’s no big deal.”

Marcus wasn’t buying it. “Sure about that?”

“Nope, but what can I do? She’s not the most reasonable person I’ve ever met.” Ransom leaned close, eyebrows waggling. “Maybe I should try apologizing.”

“You’re sorry?”

“Nope.”

“Then why do it?”

“Because it would bug her.”

Marcus shook his head. “Be nice.”

“Yeah, I will.” Ransom wryly noted, “Bet she’ll hate that, too.”

Weekend camping expeditions continued straight into the fall, with Ransom, Marcus, and Landon cramming a pup tent into the small square of grass behind the Turnquists’ garage. Marcus’s foster parents seemed to understand the boys’ determination to hang onto the last vestiges of summer. Until a cold, drizzly day in the last part of September, when Ransom showed up at the kitchen door with a bag of burgers, a bakery box, and a mumbled request.

“Can we use the tent tonight?” he asked.

Mrs. Turnquist hugged herself as she checked the sky. “In this weather?”

Ransom said, “Me and Marcus have camped in the rain before. It’s no big deal.”

“We’ll be fine,” said Marcus. “Please, Mom?”

“Oh, all right. But if you spring a leak, I want you back inside.”

“Thanks, Mrs. T.” Ransom shuffled his feet and repeated, “It’s no big deal.”

Landon pouted over being stranded indoors, but he had a case of the sniffles, so their mom wouldn’t let him out. Marcus grabbed sleeping bags and pillows, and they bundled everything out to where the tent stood ready. Pink plastic teacups in the corner suggested Flopsy had been using it as a playhouse, but otherwise, everything was the way they’d left it.

They feasted on burgers without trading words, but this was a familiar, comfortable silence. For a while, it was enough to listen to the faint whisper of droplets against the tent roof. But Marcus kept a close eye on Ransom. Something’s strange. But his friend kept him in suspense.

Right before bedtime, Mr. Turnquist came to check on them with a couple extra blankets, hot from the dryer. “From your mother, who seems to think you’ll melt.”

Marcus tossed one over Ransom’s head. “Tell her thanks.”

“Will do. Good night, boys.”

Ransom opened the bakery box, which held half a dozen cupcakes.

“The usual?” asked Marcus.

“Yeah, I put in a request with Mr. Manager at the convenience store. Made to order.”

Holding one up, Marcus asked, “Down to the color?”

Ransom grinned crookedly. “Why would I ask for pink?”

They polished off dessert and climbed into their sleeping bags. Only then did Ransom find his voice. In the dim light of a battery-operated lantern, he rambled on about everything and nothing. Same as ever.

That’s when evensong hit.

Ardon’s voice came from one side of the tent, and Havilor soon made it a duet. Marcus pushed up onto his elbows, stricken to the core as they sang for the child given into their watch-care. Because today was Ransom’s birthday.

He trailed off. “Something wrong?”

Marcus slowly shook his head. “Okay if I turn off the light?”

“You going to sleep?”

“Nope.”

And so Ransom chatted on, sounding relaxed, maybe even happy. But Marcus was rattled and wretched. He’d been human long enough to know how important birthdays were. Despite Ransom’s every insistence to the contrary, today was a big deal.

Marcus couldn’t convince himself that Ransom didn’t care. He’s marking the day. With me.

“You still awake?”

“Right here.” He reached out, giving Ransom’s shoulder a gentle shove. “Same as always.”

“Thanks for that.”

It was only a little tremor, but the emotion in Ransom’s voice gutted Marcus. He was glad in that moment that his angelic nature was wrapped away in human packaging. Without the incandescence of wings and raiment, Ransom wouldn’t be able to see Marcus pulling at his hair.

Or the tears that wouldn’t stop.

At the same moment Ransom finally mumbled his way into dreams, someone yanked Marcus into heavenly realms. Even with his face hidden behind his hands, he knew where he’d been brought. The faint rattle of reeds meant he was home, which pointed to Aleff’s meddling. But Marcus was safe in someone else’s clutches.

Silk and serenity. Starry darkness. Feeling like a newfoundling all over again, Marcus relaxed into his big brother’s powerful arms, glad for the hushed shelter of midnight wings.

“Why so downcast?” asked Daichi.

“He’s hurt. And it hurts.”

“Weeping with those who weep, is this not friendship?” His big brother softly added, “Rather, let us say this is love.”

“What’ll I do?” Marcus croaked. “Nothing’s changed, and I can’t protect him from consequences he doesn’t even understand.”

“I have known this fear,” admitted Daichi. “But I have no words for you.”

“That’s my job,” came a gruff mutter.

Daichi’s wings parted, letting in a stirring of wind, the soothing touch of heaven’s light, and a sight that would normally have been welcome. All of Marcus’s big brothers were present. The guys he admired most. The ones he longed to impress. Yet here he sat with red eyes, wet cheeks, and snot dripping from his nose.

“My turn,” said Ben, gesturing with both hands. “C’mere, runt. I have a message for you.”

“Me first!”

“Here next.”

“To me!”

With much squabbling, they passed their little brother around the circle as if he weighed nothing, coddling him like a toddler. Or worse, a pet.

Marcus spent most of his days as a teenage boy, so he knew exactly how he must have looked—pitiful, needy, weak. So while a part of him hated feeling so small, another part found awe. Because these guys were his family, they knew what he was feeling, and their being here was a gift from God.

By the time he landed in front of Ben, Marcus was able to meet the Messenger’s gaze.

“Child of light, child of war, you long for battle, to fight for My glory, to protect what is so loved.”

Marcus nodded.

Ben continued, “Your feet are shod for war, you come with a sword, but the battle is Mine. Stand down, runt.”

“God said that?”

Mussing up Marcus’s hair, Ben admitted, “That last part was mostly me.”

“Are malakim allowed to mess with their messages?”

“Just making sure you’re paying attention. It gets better.”

“I’m listening.”

Ben continued, “Your heart breaks because Ransom is brokenhearted, but you were not Sent to protect fallow ground. These are days of preparation. I will batter and dig, loosen and crumble.”

“He’s doing it on purpose?” whispered Marcus.

“Think of it as … God making good use of what He finds.”

The shift was subtle, but it helped Marcus’s perspective. God’s work is less like demolition … and more like a salvage operation.

“That’s right. And you know the parable,” said Ben. “Rocks and weeds have gotta go, and the till bites deep so seeds get a fair start. It’s a nice story, easy to understand, but it’s different, isn’t it? Watching it happen to someone you love.”

“It stinks.”

“It does,” said Ben. “But I’ll let you in on a secret.”

Marcus glanced around the circle of avid eavesdroppers. “One they know?”

“For a long time now.” He met every gaze and nodded. “Marcus, the same love that rips you to pieces when you see someone suffer makes it easier to wallow through every kind of crud for their sake.”

Daichi quietly interjected, “It bears all things, endures all things. Never gives up, never fails.”

The words were true, but Marcus shied away from them. “That’s not my love. That’s God’s.”

“Exactly,” said Ben. “We love as He loves. As we are loved.”

Marcus’s throat was so tight, his next words hurt. “Will it be enough?

“Somehow.”

Somehow. Sketchy at best for someone who would have liked to know if, how, when, and a dozen other clearer declarations. But somehow hinted at someday, so Marcus gave in to trust.

When Marcus opened his eyes, he expected to be back in the pup tent, zipped snugly in his sleeping back, not bundled in his mentor’s wings. The cherub sat with face averted, as if giving him a scrap of privacy.

“Jedrick?” Marcus scrubbed at his cheeks. “Did you send me home?”

“No. This Sending was God’s.” Jedrick’s jaw worked. “Did you find what you needed?”

“S-somehow.”

“Then I will not complain.”

Marcus frowned. “Are you mad at me?”

Jedrick met his gaze. “Frustrated. I would have liked to be enough for my apprentice.”

“I wish I was enough for Ransom.”

“We all fall short.” The warrior looked away and asked, “May I ask something that has been weighing on my mind?”

“Yeah, of course.”

“Why him?”

Marcus blinked.

“Your friend walks in darkness, and you are a child of light. Why choose such a companion?”

“He chose me.”

Jedrick said, “Friendship binds two lives, no matter who forged the first link.”

“Then I want to believe that God did the forging. Because Ransom just sort of … happened.” After some thought, Marcus said, “Can I ask something that’s been weighing on my mind?”

“Certainly.”

“If a life might be saved someday, is it worth nothing before that?”

Jedrick shook his head. “There would be no struggle if there was no hope.”

“I’d rather fight than sit in suspense.” Marcus curled in on himself. “I wanted a mentor so I could become stronger, but I’ve never been more afraid.”

“For him?”

“And for myself. What if he falls short?” Marcus hesitantly gave words to his growing concern. “Bonds this strong could become chains.”

“Fear not,” said Jedrick. “Your name is under my hand; your life is under my protection. My strength and my sword are your support. I will not let you fall.”

At the renewal of his pledge, Marcus reached for his mentor’s hand and found his name, still etched across Jedrick’s palm. Marcus said, “It’s almost like God put Ransom’s name under my hand. That’s how it feels.”

“Then I understand.”

“He doesn’t.” Marcus grimaced. “He has no clue about me—what I am, why that matters.”

“Even unaware, he allied himself with a child of light.” Jedrick’s voice gentled. “If he was content in darkness, why choose such a companion?”

“The lost are always looking for a place to belong.” But as soon as the words were out of his mouth, Marcus disliked them. This wasn’t about people in general; this was about his friend. “Ransom doesn’t even know what he’s looking for.”

“Yet he found you.”

“Somehow.”

Jedrick’s fingers closed around Marcus’s much smaller hand. “Your perspective remains uniquely … human.”

“You think?”

“Happenstance, coincidence, and circumstance—are these not God’s handiwork?”

“No doubt.” Marcus said, “There’s a human saying, God works in mysterious ways.”

“Then behold, a mystery.” Jedrick’s wings shifted and settled in comforting folds around his apprentice. “Somehow, an angel became a boy. And somehow, a Flight captain became his mentor. Somehow, the boy warrior became a best friend. And somehow, a Caretaker became their favorite uncle.”

Far-fetched, beyond rare, and in Aleff’s case, more than a little crazy. “Kinda makes it sound like God’s been making exceptions left and right.”

“For your sake, and for His glory.” Jedrick exuded confidence. “For now, and forever. For who can say when the next somehow will appear? Who can guess where the next somehow will lead?”

“Oh, it’ll probably sneak up on us and from the least likely direction,” said Marcus. “But I gotta say, I hope it’s soon.”

“We will wait and watch together.”

“Ransom and me—we’ve been places, seen stuff, found things. Enough to fill a book. It’s been good, but it can’t end here.” In a smaller voice, he confessed, “I don’t want our journey to end.”

“May the path you share reach into eternity.”

“Yep, that’d be great,” Marcus said gruffly. “Long haul.”

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ANGEL UNAWARE INDEX

Coming Soon: Angel Unaware print and digital editions,

with the exclusive epilogue, “Truest Friend”

Collect the other Threshold-based serials now available in print and digital formats:

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Valentine’s Day

For February 14, I lined up a few treats. My ladies’ Bible study meets on Tuesday mornings, and we had a sweet time.

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And another YouTube video posted at CJMK Books. “Finding the Words” is a Threshold Series outtake set during the events of Book 4: The Garden Gate. Watch it now >>

YouTube: Two of Me

We’ve been producing more YouTube videos at my house. This week’s post answers one of my biggest FAQs — “Why do you use two pennames?”

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Watch it now >>

Be sure to subscribe to CJMK Books on YouTube.

New videos usually post on Tuesdays!

51st Annual Local Author Exhibit

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The downtown San Diego Public Library kicked off their annual Local Author Exhibit yesterday afternoon. My daughter Elza and I joined the throng of writers and hunted down my 2016 contribution to their collection.

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It was fun to see Koji’s story all decked out with official library stickers on the spine. Let’s hope this tiny book won’t be totally lost in such a big library. ★