Brenda S. Anderson's Blog, page 40

Meet Debbie, PIECES OF GRANITE’s Heroine!

I’m excited to be visiting Sarah Ruut‘s blog today! She gave me the opportunity to interview my heroine from PIECES OF GRANITE, and I even learned some back story from the interview, that isn’t in the book.

http://sarahruut.com/2014/11/10/meet-debbie-heroine-of-brenda-andersons-pieces-of-granite/

Also, this is my first GIVEAWAY opportunity for Pieces of Granite, so if you want to be one of the first to hold the book, hurry on over to Sarah’s blog.

PIECES OF GRANITE Cover Reveal!

Ta da! Isn’t it beautiful!

Pieces of Granite (Coming Home Series Prequel)

Special thanks to George at Think-Cap Design for another fantastic cover!

Cheri Swalwell – HOPE DURING HEARTACHE

Back in 1993, roughly a year after our first child was born, we became pregnant with our second child. Eight short weeks later, that pregnancy ended with a miscarriage.

I’ll never forget that day. After suffering from cramping and abnormal bleeding, our doctor gave us the awful news. I remember going through the day in a haze, and then that night I was scheduled to lead children’s choir practice at church. All I wanted was for someone to tell me to go home and take care of myself. I wanted to hear sympathetic words, but we hadn’t even told anyone we were pregnant. The loss hurt like the dickens, and it was a very lonely time. How do you mourn the loss of an 8-week-old fetus without others mourning with you?

Author Cheri Swalwell fully understands what my husband and I and so many other couples have gone through, and she’s released a book sharing others’ stories of child loss, Hope During Heartache, True Stories of Emotional Healing from Infertility, Miscarriage, Stillbirth, or Death of a Child. It’s a reminder than none of us our alone.

Please welcome Cheri as she shares her experience with child loss, and what prompted the creation of this much-needed book.

Infertility…miscarriage…stillbirth…or death of a child. I’m a member of an exclusive group. I never wanted to join this club. When I was a little girl dreaming of my happily-ever-after, this particular sorority was never thought of as a possibility.

My orientation into this club began with a missed period in November 2006. I was happily married with two children. Even though this pregnancy was God planned, not we planned, my whole body reacted with sheer joy at the thought of another child from Him to raise, teach, and love. Before even having a chance to tell my husband the good news, I already had our child through his fifth year of life – at holidays, birthday parties, playing in the summertime – a real part of our family.

Miscarriage was something I thought happened to someone else, not me. However, one day short of twelve-weeks marked the beginning of the end. I woke my husband up to tell him something wasn’t right, but waited until after putting our six-year-old on the bus to call the doctor’s office. I figured they would want to see me right away. Instead, I was ordered strict bedrest. Within two hours of staring at the ceiling trying not to worry, I lost our baby, in our bed, alone.

After a D&C two days later due to complications, my physical body recovered quickly, but emotionally it took me much longer. About six months after the miscarriage, around the time our baby should have been born, I began searching for books that would offer me hope and a promise that I would smile again despite the pain that engulfed me. I never found exactly what I desperately needed. I remember crying out to God in frustration – long before the dream of writing was ever watered – and stating, “Someday, God, I will write a book that will offer hope to those who hurt!” Those powerful words, spoken with conviction, were tucked away deep into my heart.

November 2008, almost exactly two years after finding out I was carrying our third child, I missed another cycle. Hoping, but not believing, and very much afraid this time, I stared at two lines on a stick and wondered how I would tell my husband yet again that God had allowed another miracle to grow. July 2009 we welcomed our “bonus blessing,” the child God knew needed to be born to make our family complete.

By this time, I was working full time from home as a medical transcriptionist which afforded me the flexibility of raising our littlest without having to rely on daycare. I cherished every single day, thanking God for this blessing so underserved. Not that our youngest was cherished more than our older two children, but the innocence we had with our other children had disappeared with the loss of our third. All the while, the promise I had made two years before remained forgotten.

October 2011: It was during my first writer’s conference when God reminded me of the promise I had whispered to Him four years earlier. “If this is what You want, Lord, I’ll obey. Please lead me to the people whose stories You want shared.” I came home and began asking courageous men and women if they would be willing to tell their personal stories of heartache, offering hope to others who are walking that path themselves.

By September 2014, the book that God put together became a reality, but had one missing part before it could be published. The perfect cover. For months, I had been searching for a picture which would depict a message of hope during one of the darkest times in a parent’s life. I was getting frustrated, yet, I should know better. God, my Father, who is always personal, also always has perfect timing. My husband found the perfect picture on Facebook after a terrible storm swept through our area. I messaged the woman who took the photo and explained why I was asking permission to use it. She responded immediately with a “yes.” She shared that her family has also been personally touched by the topic of the book.

October 1, 2014, Hope During Heartache was officially released. It was the fulfillment of the promise I made to God one ordinary spring day in 2007 while I was desperately seeking hope and freedom from my pain.

God is never the Creator of pain. Instead, I believe He smiled the day I made Him that promise, borne out of frustration, to use the pain in our family’s life to help others through their difficult journeys. As a result, He lovingly guided me every step of the way until that promise was fulfilled.

Hope During Heartache is the result of my promise to Him.

~*~*~

Purchase Hope During Heartache on Amazon:  amzn.to/1sKLduh (Paperback and eBook)

About Cheri~

Cheri Swalwell is a Christ follower who thoroughly enjoys her calling to be a wife, mother, and writer, in that order. She enjoys writing regularly for Book Fun Magazine and LIFE TO THE FULLEST. Her Spoken from the Heart Series is available through Amazon in both eBook and paperback versions.  Her latest book, Hope During Heartache, a compilation of 13 men and women’s stories told from their viewpoint about hope after the loss of a child, was released in October and is available at Amazon in paperback and eBook versions. To read one of her many articles on life from a Christian perspective, visit her blog at: http://bit.ly/1gRp9oK.  She loves to interact with her readers, so send her an email at clSwalwell99@gmail.com or “like” her on Facebook: http://on.fb.me/1h4eudV.

Connect with Cheri~

Blog:  http://bit.ly/1gRp9oK
Email:  clSwalwell99@gmail.com
Facebook:  http://on.fb.me/1h4eudV

Novel Anticipation, November 2014

UNDER THE SILK HIBISCUS

by Alice J. Wisler

Lighthouse Publishing of the Carolinas

Alice Wisler is one of those gifted authors who could write about Amish Zombies on Mars and make it a page-turning, emotive story. I LOVED her Still Life in Shadows novel, and I never pick up bonnet books. Under the Silk Hibiscus takes the reader back to World War II, an era I seldom choose to read about, but I know it will be excellent because she’s a fabulous storyteller.

*Be sure to stop by a week from today, November 11, for an interview with Alice Wisler and an opportunity to win a Kindle version of Under the Silk Hibiscus.

During World War Two Nathan and his family are sent to Heart Mountain, an internment camp in Wyoming for Japanese-Americans. Nathan’s one desire is to protect the family’s gold pocket watch, a family heirloom brought over from Japan. He fails; the watch is stolen. Struggling to make sense of his life in a bleak camp as the only responsible man of the household, Nathan discovers truths about his family, God, and the girl he loves.

THE BURNING ROOM

(Harry Bosch)

by Michael Connelly

Little, Brown and Company

I’ve been a Michael Connelly fan for years, loving both his Harry Bosch and Mickey Haller characters. While these books are not Christian, Connelly has never derided nor stereotyped the Christian community as many general market authors do. His books do have some coarse language and, at times, beyond-the-bedroom scenes for those of you who choose cleaner reads. But if you’re looking for great characters and page-turning story, then pick up a Michael Connelly novel.

In the LAPD’s Open-Unsolved Unit, not many murder victims die almost a decade after the crime. So when a man succumbs to complications from being shot by a stray bullet nine years earlier, Bosch catches a case in which the body is still fresh, but all other evidence is virtually nonexistent.

Now Bosch and rookie Detective Lucia Soto, are tasked with solving what turns out to be a highly charged, politically sensitive case. Beginning with the bullet that’s been lodged for years in the victim’s spine, they must pull new leads from years-old information, which soon reveal that this shooting may have been anything but random.

Inkspirational Messages Auction Items

The American Christian Fiction Writers (ACFW) organization is holding a silent auction this week to raise funds for their foundation and scholarship fund. This fund provides scholarships toward the national ACFW conference plus local-chapter scholarships.

The ladies at Inkspirational Messages have contributed a Book & Starbucks bundle that has something for almost all readers:

1 – $10 Starbucks card
WHEN LOVE CALLS by Lorna Seilstad
WHILE LOVE STIRS by Lorna Seilstad
SWEET ON THE COWGIRL by Rose Ross Zediker
CHAIN OF MERCY by Brenda S. Anderson
McKENZIE’S OREGON OPERATION by Shari Barr
RODEO ASHES by Shannon Taylor Vannatter
RODEO SONG by Shannon Taylor Vannatter
THE PRODIGAL DAUGHTER by Linda Fulkerson

You can bid on the bundle here:

http://www.32auctions.com/organizations/17306/auctions/19361/auction_items/431404

Auction closes Saturday, November 8, 2014 @ 7:00 EST.

So Long Supermom

It’s no secret that I love superhero movies. I’ve become a Marvel fanatic (thanks to my family) and my favorite Disney / Pixar movie is The Incredibles.

But, if you look closely at superheroes, none are great at everything, and they all have their kryptonite. They’re also strongest when they don’t go it alone. Consider The Avengers: Thor, Iron Man, Black Widow, Captain America, Hawkeye, the Hulk. Yes, individually they each have their specialty, but when together, they’re a nearly impenetrable force. As for The Incredibles, they do their best work when teamed up as a family.

Over the last half-century, women have striven to achieve that superhero status as Supermom, and mom’s are told they can do anything and everything. They can hold down full-time jobs and be a full-time mom. They are chauffeur and chef. Scientist and athlete. Musician and author. Housekeeper and nurse. Oh, and I can’t forget loving wife.

All while managing to work out an hour a day and always having perfect hair.

I’ll bet you even know some of these supermoms. You sit next to them at church, PTA, scout meetings, book clubs. And chances are, you sometimes feel inadequate. I know I do. As does Debbie Verhoeven, my heroine in Pieces of Granite.

Debbie is a trained marriage and family therapist-turned full-time mom. Her toddler has asthma, the baby she’s carrying has Down syndrome, and her husband suffers from severe panic attacks. But she handles it all with grace …

Until she can’t handle it on her own anymore.

I often hear people say, “God doesn’t give us more than we can handle.” Honestly, I believe He constantly gives us more than we can handle, and that forces us to rely on Him.

The fact is, no one can do everything well. That perfectly-coiffed, stylishly mother seated next to you? You should see her house! Oh, and then there’s that super-scout leader whose troops are always at the top of cookie sales, plus they’re volunteering everywhere, and they make the most fabulous crafts! But maybe her family life isn’t so super.

Despite what society wants to believe, moms are not and will never be super-human. No matter what they look like on the outside, inside they’re just plain-old human. They are moms who need fellowship. They’re moms who need that firm foundation to hold them up when life gives them more than they can handle. Because it will.

And that’s okay because we all have a true-life superhero to rely on, One who knows us intimately and has no weaknesses. He’s our strength when we’re weak, our friend when we’re lonely, and our teacher when starting something new.

So moms, I give you permission to be imperfect. You don’t have to do everything, be everything. Just be who God created you to be.

No, you’re not Supermom, but you are a mom and that’s special enough.

Time Tracking the Old-Fashioned Way

Today I’m visiting the Seriously Write Blog, talking about how I keep track of time and characters in my Coming Home series. Thank you to Sandra Ardoin for inviting me!

http://seriouslywrite.blogspot.com/2014/10/time-tracking-by-brenda-anderson.html

If you’re a writer, how do you keep track of complex timelines?

A Peek at Pieces of Granite

In less than a month, Pieces of Granite will finally release! Woo hoo! I can’t wait! Until then, I thought you’d enjoy a teaser or two, so every week I’ll give you a little taste of a book that’s very dear to me.

Probably the best teaser I can give you is a glimpse inside the book itself. In 2012, Pieces of Granite was a semi-finalist in the ACFW Genesis Awards, the same year another work of mine was a finalist. As the scores from both entries were comparable, I’m guessing that Pieces was not too far away from making finalist.

With that, here’s the first scene …

May
     One more slam should drive away her fears. Debbie Verhoeven raised the hammer, her tongue poking from the corner of her mouth, and eyed the nail’s head. With Handel’s Water Music floating through the background, she swung the hammer down, transferred her strength to the nail, and implanted steel into oak. Her finger skimmed over the small metal head now blended smoothly with the wood’s surface. Perfect.
     Just like this little one. She patted her stomach and imagined the dime-sized heel floating unseen beneath her fingertips, a mere seventeen weeks alive. Absolutely perfect.
     She took off her safety goggles, blew a brown strand of hair from her eyes, and removed a lawn chair from the open-stud garage wall. Time to relax. She unfolded the chair and placed it where her Mommy-van usually sat, where antifreeze had dripped Rorschach-like blotches onto the concrete. She collapsed onto the chair and smiled. Driving nails was great therapy.
     But then, there was always clean up. A warm breeze blew through the garage’s open door and a car puttered down her normally quiet street as she examined the butcher block workbench spanning the back of the garage. Next to her woodworking project, a Minnesota spring bouquet of lilacs and dandelions cuddled together in a Pepsi can, adding a splash of color and refreshing fragrance to the un-Sheetrocked area. The bouquet would stay, but tools needed to be hung on the pegboard and wood scraps awaited recycling. As for the granite stones scattered on the bench, she must have an empty coffee can around somewhere.
     Tomorrow. Friday morning would be soon enough to clean her bench. She massaged her belly. Baby Verhoeven needed rest.
     The door to the house opened, and her husband peeked through the crack.      “About done?”
     “For the afternoon, anyway.” She stood, brushed dusty hands on her jeans, and wiped perspiration from her forehead. Even with the garage door open, the air movement did little to cool her pregnant body. “Kaitlynn still napping?”
     “At the moment.” A rare smile lit Jerry’s face as he stepped into the garage. He wound his way in front of their decade-old Ford Escort wagon, cradling a Hostess cupcake in each hand.
     Her stomach growled and she licked her lips. “Snack time already?”
     “Maybe an hour or so past.”
     “No, it’s not …” Her gaze flew to the saw blade clock mounted on the pegboard above her workbench. Five forty-seven. Jerry had been home two hours already? No way. Maybe one. And a half. Maybe. And Kaitlynn never napped this long.
     It was far past time for snacks. Supper should have been started over an hour ago.
     But if Jerry wasn’t complaining, why should she?
     He set the cupcakes on her bench and ran his palm across her wood project.      “What are you making?”
     She grinned and covered his hand. “Something for my garden.”
     “A secret something?” His other hand blanketed hers.
     “Yep.”
     “I have a secret.” He circled his arms around her waist. “I love you,” he whispered in his luscious tenor. His subtle Halston cologne drew her nearer until his lips briefly met hers, his goatee-mustache tickling her mouth. He drew back and smiled again, with creases accenting his green eyes. The years-old burn scar mapped over his cheek blushed a brighter shade of pink. Shoot, he was gorgeous, even with the fluorescent light reflected off his smooth head.
     “I like your secret.” She drew a finger down the front of his polo shirt. “What’s the occasion?”
     “Two minutes of quiet with my wife now, so you can sleep in tomorrow. Don’t worry about getting up with me. Get in a little rest before Kaitlynn wakes up.”
     Oh, that sounded heavenly. If only it were that simple. “What about Kaitlynn’s party? I’ve got a cake to bake tomorrow. A house to clean—”
     He pressed a finger to her lips. “Party’s two days away. Take it easy tomorrow. I’ll help when I get home. No worries.”
     Girl, stop arguing. She plopped back down in her chair. “Thanks, hon.” No sane pregnant stay-at-home mom would be dumb enough to turn down extra sleep and help.
     “You’re welcome.” He handed her a cupcake.
     She nibbled the devilishly good chocolate treat, skirting the crème center. Always save the best part for last.
     Jerry downed his in two bites. He didn’t need to savor the taste. Calories hated him and never stuck around. Life wasn’t fair.
     Licking his fingers, he leaned against the bench. Familiar worry lines wrinkled his forehead. “Any word from Ricky?”
     The cake suddenly tasted like sawdust. “He’s flying to London tomorrow.” And Granite Creek, Minnesota, wasn’t exactly in the flight path of New York to London.
     “I’m sorry, hon.” Jerry opened a folding chair, faced it opposite hers, and took her hands. “You know it kills him not being here, although I’m sure Marcus is quite happy.”
     Probably. “Those two. I think they’re beyond hope.” Why her older brothers couldn’t get along … She shook her head. “I keep reminding myself how lucky I am to have two older brothers who love me, who love us, and maybe someday …”
     “It’ll happen. They’re good guys; they’ve just got a little growing up to do.” He leaned over, raised her bare feet to his lap, and massaged the ankle that revealed her one foray into rebellion during college. Her poor mother still rolled her eyes whenever she noticed the diminutive lily permanently inked to Debbie’s skin. An act Debbie never regretted.
     Besides, Jerry loved it. Said it was sexy, and his gentle caress affirmed those words.
     With a sly grin, he traced the lily with his thumb. “Where are your shoes?
     “My feet were hot.” She pointed beneath the bench where ankle socks lay tucked inside tennis shoes.
     “Didn’t you teach Kaitlynn to always wear shoes when working in the garage?” His grin expanded.
     With a huff, Debbie crossed her arms. “She’s napping.”
     “Rebel.”
     Hardly. “Yep, that’s me.” Maybe in an alternate universe.
     He chuckled, then concern leveled his lips as he nodded at her stomach. “What do we tell the family this weekend?”
     Debbie caressed her baby. This little one would be loved, no matter what the diagnosis. “We’ll tell them I’m pregnant, but the rest? I don’t think we should, at least until we know for sure.”
     “And you’ve heard nothing from the doctor?”
     “Not yet. Every time the phone rings …” She glanced at the cordless phone lying silent on the workbench. Three weeks had passed since the amniocentesis. It was well past time for the doctor to call with the results. This nervous anticipation was hard on both of them.
     Especially Jerry. The corner of his lip quivered. A sure sign he was holding back his fears. “How do I keep myself from worrying?”
     “Ah, Jerry.”
     “Seriously, Debbie. I’m scared to death.”
     Not a surprise. “I know. I’m scared too.” But for different reasons.
     “I wish I were strong as you.”
     Sometimes, I wish I could be weak. “God’s not asking us to be strong.”
     “What if I can’t handle it?”
     “God doesn’t give you more than you can handle.”
     A sarcastic laugh escaped his throat. “Right. Tell that to my dad. To my ex-wife.” He pinched the bridge of his nose and looked down.
     Debbie grabbed his hands. “Look at me.”
     He peered up, his cheeks flexing.
     “Whatever happens, we’re in this together. Do you understand that?”
     He nodded like a guilty child accepting a scolding.
     “Good, because I am not your dad. Nor am I Francine. You’re stuck with me through everything. Got that? You have my word that I will never walk out on you.”
     His arms wrapped her in a trembling hug, clearly unconvinced.
     God, please give him strength.
     The phone rang as if in answer to her supplication.
     She reached for it, but Jerry grabbed it first.
     “Hello.” Jerry massaged the left side of his chest. “Yes.”
     “Doctor Haugman’s office?” She mouthed.
     His head gave one slow nod, and his eyes focused on the ground.
     Please God, for Jerry’s sake, and for me and the baby, let the tests be negative.
     “Monday.” Color leaked from his face.
     No. Debbie laid her hand on Jerry’s arm.
     “I understand. We’ll be there.”
     With a heavy sigh, he lifted his chin, clearly trying to appear brave, but red streaked the whites of his eyes and tension hollowed his cheeks. His lip twitched as he slid his hands between his knees, and cracked his knuckles.
     “Dr. Haugman wants to see us Monday.” An appointment meant one thing: they had information that couldn’t be delivered over the phone.

*~*~*

Excerpt taken from Pieces of Granite by Brenda S. Anderson

© Brenda S. Anderson 2014.

Living in the Light of God’s Love Winner!

And the winner of Mari Keisling‘s LIVING IN THE LIGHT OF GOD’S LOVE: WALK THIS WAY is …

Dawn Ford!

Congratulations, Dawn!

(Winner chosen via Random.org)

More Blog Hopping!

Today, I’m visiting a couple of blogs.

Author Narelle Atkins invited me to share my favorite weekend escape, so I got to talk about the North Shore along Lake Superior. God’s presence is so evident up there! Where is your favorite getaway?

http://narelleatkins.wordpress.com/2014/10/24/friday-weekend-escape-to-lake-superior-in-minnesota-usa-with-brenda-s-anderson/

And it’s my scheduled blog day at Inkspirational Messages. We’ve been chatting about what’s going on in our lives, and I talk about a year of changes. I’d love to hear about what’s going on your life!

http://inkspirationalmessages.com/ch-ch-ch-changes/