Kerry Peresta's Blog, page 3

STUMBLING ACROSS SIMPLE JOYS

I love this store. Mostly the prices.

I had a serious melt-down, sloppy-cry moment yesterday.

It started out as an ordinary day…morning quiet time, then to my desk to write for about three hours, then figure out routine chore-type things that needed doing.

Like grocery shopping. Which I hate.

However … on the tail end of the COVID panic, we somehow made the dubious decision to buy a 4-DR Jeep Wrangler, which has made all things ‘chore’ a delight, since I’m now toodling around Hilton Head Island in a black Jeep with oversize wheels/tires with no top or doors. This has changed my life for the better all around. Did you know Jeepsters have a ‘wave’? Like the peace sign, only it’s not. When driving a Jeep, one must put a hand at twelve o’clock on the steering wheel in preparation to raise the two designated fingers in a Jeep ‘wave’ upon seeing other Jeep brethren toodling around. Yep. It’s a thing. We are learning all that stuff.

But I digress.

So, breeze blowing through my hair, music pumped up, I’m happily driving to Kroger, which is mid-Island. And I think, well, TJ Maxx is right next door and I might as well go there first. This cheered me up considerably, as the Island has unmasked, for the most part, and it’s not a hideous mask-thing anymore to go shop for clothing, purses, and the like.

I hop out of my Jeep, thinking out of habit … I need to lock it. But no, the doors are off, no need. This also made me smile, and I trotted into the store, twirling the keys around my finger and looking all “Jeep girl.” I pick out a great purse, wander through the rest of the store, pick up another couple things, including a new pair of jean shorts. I guage their size with a sigh, thinking, ohmigosh another piece of clothing I have to take home that I will probably need to return. *I hate returning stuff* just saying. I head toward check-out. Notice the growing hubub at the back of the store.

What do my wandering eyes behold?

I crane my neck to look. “What’s going on?” I ask a fellow crane-necker. He doesn’t know and doesn’t care. I jerk to a stop, pull my cart out of line, and head to the hubub, just for the heck of it. As I draw closer, my heart rate picks up. My eyes moisten.

“It can’t be,” I whisper to myself. I push my cart ever closer, wondering at the mob waiting, their carts filled with clothing. I draw in a breath, and hold it until I’m finally in the center of it all. With a gasp, and a rush of tears, I cry out, “Hallelujah!” Several women, also with tears of relief streaming down their cheeks, give me a smile and a nod. They, too, cannot believe it. I danced to the front of the line and hugged the woman checking us in. She laughed.

Yes, it was true. At TJ Maxx on Hilton Head Island … the dressing rooms … are … OPEN!!!

Happy, happy tears.

.

Staycation Fail

It was all my idea.

When my husband found out he had a couple extra days free before his new job began, he wanted to do something ‘different’. (My husband is very big on ‘different’) Flights to Chicago, or Baltimore, or Atlanta, he said, were at an all-time low rate. I was thinking…two days? The flights alone will take at least half a day. That leaves ONE day to explore a city. So, being the practical and supportive wife that I am (well, sometimes), a STAYcation popped into my head, and why not? We live on Hilton Head Island, for gosh sakes, and NEVER explore the plentiful amenities.

Hyped, and immediately on board, he made reservations at The Sonesta Resort, for which – as a huge bonus – he had points! We got the two nights free! We fluttered around in preparation, packed, dug out our swimsuits, put our bikes on the rack, and headed out.

Upon arrival, we were heady with the tourist spirit. Jim wanted to pretend we were from somewhere exotic. (As I said, he is big on ‘different’) I refused, of course, but he told perfect strangers that he wanted to do it and that seemed to satisfy him. I just rolled my eyes. We oohed and aahhed over the soaring, beautifully decorated lobby, walked the property, and visited the beach. Ate dinner at the resort restaurant. In short, we did what every tourist on the planet that walked through the Sonesta’s doors did. That night, I tossed and turned and could NOT get to sleep.

The perpetrator

The next morning, we enjoyed a sunrise beach walk, then ran home to feed the cats, and ended up eating breakfast and hanging out at our house. A good thing, because one of the cats had gotten stuck in the spare bedroom and, bless his heart, had nowhere to relieve himself other than the bed or the floor. Fortunately, he chose the bed, and I simply threw the whole lot of bedclothes into the washer and threw away two pillows. Easy. Cat poop and pee on the rug is an entirely different matter, and worthy of new carpeting. Yay for Felix who had the discernment to know the lesser of two kitty-evils. With a big sigh of…oh, I don’t know…resignation? we drove back to the resort (all in the name of ‘different’) and resumed touristing in our own playground. We went to the beach. We watched the tourists. We had lunch in the poolside bar. We tromped out to the parking lot, unloaded our bikes and rode around Shipyard on their lovely bike paths. We went back to the hotel. Up to the room. Lay on the bed and studied our phones for an hour. After a while we both realized that we were…what? Yep. Bored.

I missed my cats. I missed my deck. I missed my view. I missed eating food that wouldn’t make me gain weight. (Why don’t restaurants have keto-friendly menus now, anyway?) So when Jim asked where I wanted to go for dinner, I said…wait for it…

Home.

He laughed. “Really? You do?”

“I do. What about you?”

Silence. (He has to ponder things)

“I guess I am kind of bored.”

“Me too. And I miss my cats.”

“Yeah.”

“You sure?”

Sigh. “What do I tell them when they ask why we’re leaving early?”

“Why do you think you have to give a reason?”

Sigh.

“We can stay if you want,” I said.

“That’s okay. I want you to be able to sleep.” (Jim can be really sweet sometimes)

“Aw.”

So we went home. Both of us felt relieved.

Moral of story: Staycations don’t really work unless the location is far enough away from home base that it is inconvenient to return, or home base doesn’t have the greatest location or view.

We now know that in our case, since we can rule out BOTH of those things…staycations just don’t work.

At all.

The end.

Taken on our Sonesta Beach sunrise walk

Amazing Podcast that Blew My Mind

Fran Lewis is a legend with writers.

Fran Lewis, Podcast Queen

She is a professional reader, an author, and a person of note. She gave me a list of questions about a month ago that gave me the chills and made me dig deep…so deeply into the motivations of my characters that I feel a fresh wind blowing for finishing the next book in the series!! After answering these questions for her podcast I felt empty. Okay Fran, let these people hear it!!

Here’s the link to the podcast. It’s an hour long so listen to it in little bites if you want to. It’s a lot to take in!

https://www.blogtalkradio.com/fran-lewis/2021/04/15/welcome-kerry

So This is Life, Now

I just got off the phone with a lovely board member of one of the organizations that wanted an author panel, and they are so looking forward to our trio of authors speaking, she said, but it will be half-in-person, and half-virtual.

This is life, now.

I am glad there is no longer full-on virtual. That’s something, at least! It’s been a challenging year, and looks to be a challenging 2021 as well, but there are pockets of hope springing up here and there. My azaleas are blooming, I planted three camellias and a hydrangea this spring and they are thriving (good sign – they haven’t died), and folks are starting to breathe again. Well, as much breathing as you can do through a mask. These are coming off with regularity, though, I’ve noticed.

In spite of all this, my book, The Deadening, was released late February, and so far, I’ve had wonderful, five-star reviews and so much support I am blown away. People are loving my book! Isn’t it funny that authors tend to think they can’t write a darn thing anyone will want to read, and when they do, they are surprised. It’s true. We’re all like that.

To my delight, my local Barnes&Noble decided to carry the book, so all those folks who would really rather buy their books at a bookstore now have that option. Hilton Head Island’s full-time residents mourned when the B&N closed for COVID, and rejoiced when it opened, me included.

The forever stamp on our citizens of this twilight zone existence we’ve endured for almost 15 months will be a legacy of half-virtual mixed with half-in-person. Can’t you just see it? Mom ‘n Pops have closed all over the country, and many employers realized that ZOOM and other meeting apps make showing up to the workplace obsolete. Professional casual is now ‘professional above the waist only’ thanks to technology. (Just don’t get out of your seat).

It has become routine to see my husband in a dress shirt above the waist, and sweat pants below as he’s rushing to another virtual meeting. I wonder how this has affected our shopping? Amazon has seen the biggest boom ever, but copycats are springing up, and they have significant competition now. Already I’m a more zealous virtual shopper, but I get desperate for some human interaction and in a fit of virtual-shopping rebellion, I dash out the door for groceries, but I’m resentful that I have to throw on more presentable clothing and put on makeup. This virtual thing has made me less willing to get all dolled up. For anything.

Half-virtual, half-in-person. This is life, now.

As human beings, we are made to enjoy and fluorish in relationships. No matter what anybody tries to tell me, I’m better when I’m relating to people…in person. I don’t want to learn to do life with a half-virtual mindset. But that’s just me. In the meantime, I’m enjoying awesome reviews like this one in spite of the bizarre alien atmosphere that has become our society:

“Woohoo!!!! This book blew me away! You know when you read a book and it is soo good that every book you read for the next few months just can’t compare… yeah – this was that book for me!

OK I have to admit, I have a thing for books about memory loss. I have no idea why?? Maybe in a previous lifetime I had amnesia? This one was done so well. The parts when she started to remember things, it just felt so real.

Excellent character development! I loved Olivia. I thought her character was spot on and very believable. The beginning of this book!! Oh my gosh, I was totally riveted! I could not tear myself away, even with tears flowing down my face! I don’t want to give away the story but… when she goes home to be with her mom and daughters even though she can’t remember who they are! Heartbreaking! I also loved her mom and the daughters. I thought they were great through the whole thing.

Perfect ending that will blow your mind!

Wait… The first in a series??!! Sign me up for more! Can’t wait to read more by this “new to me” author!

“The Deadening” all snuggled up beside other local Lowcountry authors.

Other interesting things have happened in the absence of in-person launch events…I’ve been forced to discover new technology. This is my absolute favorite:

Click here for a surprise!

See? This is called a Link Tree for obvious reasons, and disposes of the sad task of posting separate links for every, single site I am attached to. These kinds of discoveries are one of the primary purposes of adult children – to educate Mom and Dad about astute and useful advances in technology.

In spite of the virtual, my book seems to be fluorishing, and my sequel as well. I’m 35,000 words in, just sent it off to my wonderful, patient editor for her comments, and life is good. I have a #PartnersinCrimeVBT blog tour in progress – shout out to Cheryl Mash – three more major events scheduled to acquaint readers with “The Deadening,” and another 45,000-50,000 words to get down. Plus, I have the great unmasking to look forward to.

Re-learning how to meet in person and dress like I am civilized is going to be a challenge – but I’m equal to the task.

Onward. Through the fog!

How Much is Too Much?

I often add kids into my stories, and I guess it’s because in spite of the fact that mine are all grown now, there are still issues. I use these issues all the time in relationships in my books. I weave in situations that we’ve gone through before that they may not even remember, but have left a mark on me.

It’s not true, that rumor floating around that empty nesting is a real thing. They never leave home, not really. Not that I mind, quite the contrary, I love having them around. Except when those pesky issues pop up and remind me how human we are, how prone to hurt and offense; how weak and insensitive we can be when expressing ourselves to those that really matter.

My two daughters and their babies

It’s so easy, isn’t it, to enjoy those fleeting partnerships we run across in life, be it peer groups or social clubs or Bible studies or church attendees or professional colleagues. We can chat and talk about surface things, smile and laugh, and enjoy ourselves, then leave. Poof. Light, airy, effortless, most of the time. We pretend that we are really close with these people; have deep relationships with them, but we don’t. Deep applies to the family relationships that grow and change over years, decades, lifetimes. These relationships take gut level honesty, a crap-ton of prayer, an ability to forgive, a desire to stop resentment in its tracks, and take a stand. To know, intimately, that the relationship will change and grow, and this is messy and often results in a breach if not managed in love and kindness.

But what I want to know is…how much is too much?

When is it time to stop offering sage wisdom and parental advice?

When is it time to stop offering love and counsel as only a parent can?

Is it ever time to stop wanting to protect? To help a grown kid avoid a pothole so big and so wide that it could have ripple effects over his or her entire life?

Me with two of my kids and my husband at my book launch party in February! My son and his kids

I’m struggling with these questions right now. My parents were the hands-off variety. Not much meaningful interaction whatsoever… but they were great in the arena of financial support, and their marriage lasted (which is wonderful) but as far as relationship…including much- needed instruction about things like right and wrong….pretty much non-existent. I heard over and over, “you’ll figure it out.” Um, no. I didn’t. Until I’d gone through so many emotionally muddy situations that I finally joined a group that helped me understand my weirdness. My interesting reactions to situations. My crazy fear that something awful was going to happen. These kinds of filters mess us up on many levels.

So, due to this background, I suppose; I’m willing to risk rejection from my grown children in order for them to have information that is an option to choices they make that I feel could be damaging. I’m very big on prevention. But, I’ve found, over time, that this is intrusive and counter-productive to our relationship. I think the cut-off is about 35 for instruction and direction. After that, it appears a parent is just being judgmental. Selfish. Prideful. Many other adjectives that have been batted around that I won’t mention. (Parents of grown-ups, do I see you nodding your heads out there? Thought so.)

So how much is too much?

When is it ever time to stop caring, stop investing, stop growing in relationship, stop doing life together? There are often differences of opinions and lifestyles and politics, ad infinitum. When one or both parties stop listening and start accusing, it’s often a slide into a place from which there is no turning back. Lines are drawn. Teeth are bared. Stubbornness drives a stake in the sand. This is when deep…gets hard. This is when decisions must be made…our own way? Or love? Being right? Or learning from each other’s differences and personality quirks and moving on?

So how much is too little?

How much is too little caring, too little loving, too little mentoring? How much is too little relating to each other, too little kindness, too little gentleness, too little believing the best of each other? Is there a beautiful middle ground where offenses and insults and resentments can be thrown off? Where healing and reconciliation take the place of stubborness and pride?

I think there is.

I’m not sure where, but it’s there somewhere. I’m determined to find it.

It’s Release Day! Finally!

Over the past four weeks I’ve discovered Book Brush and designed about twenty images like the one below. It’s an awesome tool, but I don’t want to oversaturate people, there’s only so much I can put on FB and my FB author page and Instagram without driving potential buyers crazy. There’s ‘please buy my book, here’s an opportunity and I’ve made it so easy, right? All you have to do is CLICK RIGHT HERE! (Seriously you can click on the image below and it takes you right to the Amazon page where you can order ebook or paperback). And then there’s this approach: BUY MY BOOK OR ELSE I WILL FURTHER SATURATE EVERY SOCIAL MEDIA CHANNEL I CAN FIND hahahaha (maniacal laughter).

Well, I’ve decided I do not want to be that person. But I really do like playing with Book Brush and I’m becoming a more competent user, anyway. I have three other authors that have joined me in promotional efforts, all our books release in February and we’ve lined up virtual events and have a ZOOM call every week or so just to stay in touch, rehearse, discuss ideas, etc. which is just fabulous and AWESOME because a book launch during a pandemic…isolated…depressed…and so over it…is no fun, but with a TEAM, it is fun. Because I have to remember that even though we get together virtually, it still (almost) has the same feel as getting together personally and is encouraging and uplifting. So a shout-out to my awesome team! And also a shout-out to my awesome publisher, Level Best Books, that offers cool promotional tools like podcasts and lists of awards to submit to and pastes our events everywhere in addition to what we are already doing. Authors primarily work in a vacuum, but with this publisher, they’re pretty careful to make sure all that isolation stuff does not happen.

It’s with a happy heart that I announce release day, today, February 23, 2021; and also with a happy heart that I’ve had lots of well-wishers and support on social media that makes me smile. It’s a great feeling. Also, it was a great feeling to discover two of my kids wanted to throw me a launch party, and I hadn’t even thought of it during this virus-of-isolation life, but we are throwing one anyway, and I’m looking forward to it. In spite of the fact that the crazy winter weather has delayed my book delivery for the event, and I’ve already changed the event date twice. I do have ARCs left over, which I am grateful for, because at least for my launch event, I’ll have those that people can touch and hold and feel and buy if they want to! Even if the books don’t make it on time, it’s about celebrating the publishing of a book, and the author’s accomplishment, not just the actual book, right? We’ll take orders and get the delayed books to them later if they don’t show up. However, I still hold out hope since the launch is still a couple days away!

I marvel over the effort that goes into a book launch. The writing, editing, and cover design take time and hard work, of course, but promotion never stops! I’ve been forced to understand Goodreads, the power of Instagram stories, the futility of Twitter (gosh how I hate Twitter), and up my game on Facebook. I’ve had my kids give me tutorials on how to post events. I’ve watched as loyal FB friends share my videos/ads. I’ve learned how to run a BookBub campaign. All the while, I’m thinking, aren’t I too old for this?

Never!

Plus I still have a newsletter I need to get out, plus the next book I have to write that actually has a deadline hanging over my head. And I hope to make it to at least one writing conference this year, and I’ll make more writer friends, which is just THE. BEST.

I always envied “author life.” Now I get it. The cool part is how impressed everyone seems to be when they discover that I’m an author. The not-so-cool part is all the sweat-inducing, profanity-laden work that goes into it. It’s okay, though. Writing books for a living beats retirement any day of the week.

 

Got Inspiration?

So, today, the Level Best Authors promotion group I’m a part of had their first joint post on a host blog. The question we all answered was ‘where do you get your inspiration and idea for the story?’ The short answer is, all over the place!

99.9% of the time, my inspiration comes from someone who has related an experience so engaging and intriguing that it has to have a place somewhere in my book. Or in the case of my latest book, a conversation with a stranger led to the entire story! Read about it here. We are so often afraid of approaching others, or taking deep dives in conversation with people we don’t know very well, aren’t we? Perhaps even more so now that the masking has occurred. I’m hoping hugs and deep-seated conversations will resume once we return to an unmasked society, but in the meantime it’s a bit harder to ferret out inspiration as an author, because gatherings have become distanced. Both physically and emotionally.

People are so interesting, and have so many stories. And in the current climate in America, I would assume there’s a lot of loneliness and longing for connection. Even though it feels alien and awkward, I appreciate the technology that allows us to stay in touch or have events and meetings in spite of the distancing required in person. I now have roughly three ZOOM events or calls a week, and more on the horizon. I’m pretty comfortable with the technology now, but I’m wondering if this is a precursor of what our society as a whole is embracing in the future? It is a scary prospect to me.

Give me a good, lively conversation with someone new and I’ll leave with four or five ideas for characters or stories or scenes. But sadly, our deep conversations are muted at present, and we must slog through this ‘new normal’ with resolve and hope. Americans are not ones to live their lives behind masks, and I trust that, like most viruses, this one will recede and we can tiptoe back to those interesting conversations and friendly smiles. In person.

To read our joint posts about idea inspiration for authors on ‘The Wickeds’ blog, click here.

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Pre-order my latest book, The Deadening, here. Available on Amazon, Indiebound, Bookshop, B&N.com

Olivia Callahan’s quiet, orderly life is shattered when she regains consciousness in a hospital and discovers she is paralyzed and cannot remember a thing. The fragmented voices she hears around her help her piece together that an apparent assault landed her in the hospital, but nobody knows who attacked her, or why. After a chilling struggle to survive, she awakens from a coma unable to remember what happened to her or anything at all, except she has been told she is an entirely different person. Or is she?
         Now, in spite of a brain injury that has rewired her personality, Olivia is on a mission to reclaim her life. As clarity surfaces and she starts to understand who she was, she is shocked. Had she really been that person? And if so, does she want her old life back?

Boom! It’s 2021 and Crazy Town

HI there and welcome to Crazy Town. At least that’s where I am right now. So busy I don’t have much time to bemoan our political landscape or wring my hands about the COVID virus, and thank God because if that was all I thought about I’d be in bed most days.

I’m in the midst of releasing a book with an energetic and forward-thinking publisher and it’s a LOT! Since my background is advertising sales, copywriting, and marketing, I have to do it to the utmost, which takes a lot of time and patience. Neither of which I have, but we do what must be done, don’t we? Yes. Most of the time, anyway.

So while whittling away at a press release, preparing for yet another ZOOM call with my author launch team, biting my fingernails calling potential virtual event venues for our “Truth and Lies in Mysteries” tour, I had a moment of panic when I realized I hadn’t updated my website and a lot of folks (a lot) were going to check it out now and I’d better have something current. It’s even on my publisher’s information sheet, ‘how many times do you update your website a month?’ and I got a little red-faced at that question. So…welcome to my world for the next few weeks, and in the middle of that, my publisher offered me another contract! For Book Two and Book Three of the Olivia Callahan Suspense Series. Book One of which (The Deadening) releases next month, and is available for pre-order now.

My mind is spinning with how much there is to do after a mainly puttering-along writing life, and it is now full systems go and I have two more books to write starting, well, now. It is a happy time and a busy time and I am over-the-moon grateful for a blessing in the midst of a fiercely alienating landscape, a horrid disease, and the pervasive loneliness that hatched in 2020. Thanks to my writing addiction, I now have an instant group of encouragers and ZOOM meetings at every turn.

Into the vast Unknown…

Tip-toeing into 2021, I’m cautiously optimistic that we may see some light at the end of the tunnel, but it’s certainly nice to have a bunch of activity going on. It is WAY too easy to slide down the tunnel of regret and take the highway of discontent right now. (Dumb metaphors, I know, I know). So for now, I’m happily engaging in phone calls to potential virtual events or future signing events when the great unmasking occurs (being positive, here), I’m delighting in the lively wit of other authors and the sharing of promotional ideas. I’m excited about the fact that my editor believes in and supports my books and that I’m building a fan base (I love you guys).

Not watching news. Just no. For a while.

I’m stepping away from 24/7 news, which has had me glued to my phone. If 2020 has taught us one thing, it’s that we cannot believe the media. We must do research and find out for ourselves, and even that may not be exactly right, so…we just need to live our lives. Pursue that wonderful thing that God made us to do. Believe that better, more hopeful days are ahead. (Preachin’ to myself here, too.) Stay busy. Find something we love and do it. Persevere. Stay ahead of depression. Go visit someone with a three-year old, it will totally change your outlook for the better. Promise.

In the meantime, I think I’ll keep writing.

Happy New Year, everyone!

‘Tis the Season

The marsh grass is the color of wheat, now.

Little did I know, that when we bought this house, the lowcountry marsh behind it would change color with the seasons. I have a desk pointed in that direction, so I can study the panorama and think deep thoughts as I write. Or think nothing, which seems to be my default position these days.

My creativity has leeched away temporarily. There’s a lot on my mind, but this week, the week of Christmas, I’m pushing it all away. I’m choosing to focus on the holiday. All is calm, all is bright, joy to the world, amen.

The holidays are never calm in my house, since there are multiple adult kids and families to consider, so it’s a choice to remain calm. My mind goes back through the years. I think the only ‘Silent Night’ Christmas I remember was the Christmas I’d just gotten divorced and the absence of stress and relationship struggles made all the difference. I still remember that time fondly, sounds strange, I know, but a horrible marriage does not a calm and silent Christmas make. But the peace…it felt incredible.

Lately, I’ve been fighting for peace and sanity amidst the pandemic and the voices that fan terror and strife from the media, which I no longer trust to tell the truth. Fighting for sanity amidst the changing landscape of shopping and planning events and interacting in general as a society. I think we can all agree, it’s been a tough year, and we’ve been infected with more than a virus. Tensions are at an all-time high, and it’s harder than ever to choose ‘calm’ or ‘peaceful’ or ‘optimistic’ but we must. I can either give in to fear or choose faith. I can let my feelings overtake me, and drown in depression; or choose hope. I can become angry and tense when things don’t go my way, or I can let go and choose love. Love is the highest road, the best road. Always. Even when we disagree, we can do it patiently. Kindly.

So…I’ve determined to love even when I have to grit my teeth. I’m choosing to remain silent when I want to blow up at someone. (Not always successful here, but I’m definitely trying.) I’m choosing to focus on the birth of Christ and God’s incredible gift to humanity. I’m excited about seeing the ‘Bethlehem Star’, which happened with a spontaneous gathering of neighbors, complete with binoculars and telescope. A magical moment, and a time for quiet speculation. Hope in the midst of the storm. Light in the darkness. Reassurance that as a country, we will move on, we will learn from 2020 – the year of radical unmet expectations – and our country will not give in to despair and contention. I’m letting petty differences and the fear I’ve picked gifts that my loved ones won’t like slide away. I’m determined to ignore a messy kitchen and an even messier life…for now. I’ll pick this stuff up again next week, but I want a timeout. I’m forcing a timeout. At least mentally.

My zillion gifts I bought for kids and grandkids and husband have been Amazoned (this should be a verb now, right?) to their destinations, and the rest wait patiently under my tree for the parts of my family that will be here. I have an entire week on my calendar that has nothing on it except Christmas Eve and Christmas Day. My cats have not ripped up the gifts and the tree, for once, so that is something to celebrate! A small thing, but still. Notable.

Like the marsh grass in winter, my outlook lies dormant and devoid of color. 2020 has been a long, rough season. But like all seasons, it hasn’t come to stay. It will pass.

Though we may not feel it or see it right now, we are passing through. Spring is on the way!

Finding Virtue in the Virtual

Virtual church is not working for me.

Attending church was the one day I absolutely counted on to dress up a little, force myself to put on a decent amount of makeup, and head out to enjoy the company of the faithful, learn awesome biblical truths, and belt out joyful worship songs in a group setting. Afterward, (I remember fondly…) we’d hang out and talk. My granddaughters would burst out of their classes and join us at the high tops in the lobby and we’d ooh and ahh over their latest creations. Friends would pause on their way out. We’d chat and catch up.

Now, I slouch to the couch and turn on YouTube with a sigh. I alternately gaze at my phone and the TV, because, hey, who is there to judge me? It’s too easy to be distracted at home. And I’ve begun starting at the teaching part, skipping announcements and worship songs. Because…well, it’s weird to sing alone in my house, and my husband won’t sing with me because he definitely thinks it’s strange, and so there you are.

Just not the same.

My husband and I have tried masking up and attending church, which is even weirder. As though we’ve entered an alien space where people are afraid of each other, and if we do try to share a few words, conversation is muffled and hard to understand because we are speaking through two or three layers of cloth. Not to mention that we are marched in and out of the auditorium like unwilling soldiers in an Orwellian tale.

On the up side (and there always is one) I have a much higher regard for handwashing, and give it a full twenty seconds. The tireless employees that wipe down and scrub and disinfect everything in sight, in addition to their other responsibilities, have my undying respect. I’m grateful my husband works at home and does not have to battle life in an office, which has got to be incredibly hard right now. ZOOM has been a lifesaver, and at least a connection with the outside world in which masks are unnecessary.

Life is stressful at best right now and I am pressing hard into my time with God each morning. I pray for our president, and our country. I pray for justice and righteousness to prevail. I pray for our economy, which is bouncing around like a ping pong ball, and I of course pray for the plague to dissipate and life to resume. Wisdom during a time such as this is elusive, but I reach out to God for true and honest wisdom to help me accomplish the things I’m called to do…be a good grandmother, a good wife and mother; continue to write books and not bemoan the current state of affairs which precludes an in-person book launch. The deep divisiveness of the political climate plus the hostility of left-wing rioters has affected many close relationships. Keeping channels of communication open is harder, now, and another thing that keeps me on my knees.

I’m so grateful God is my source, and not circumstances. With the amazing power of prayer, the stress, division, and fear of the unknown retreat. I have even learned to wear a mask without complaining! When we are powerless over circumstances, God lifts us above them and helps us persevere with dignity and grace.

“You will keep in perfect and constant peace the one whose mind is steadfast (that is, committed and focused on You in both inclination and character), because he trusts and takes refuge in You (with hope and confident expectation).” Isaiah 26:30