Get ready to step into a brand new story, full of magic and lore! Chosen will be available for purchase through multiple platforms on August 9th, 2021, and we are marking the occasion with a fun virtual Facebook party! The kids and I would love for you to join us for fun games, discussion, and sneak peeks into the world of Fae.
Click the link below to join the fun as we get ready for the event. If you want to check the book out ahead of time to see if it’s your cup of tea (or coffee), look below the event link to find all my previous teaser posts.
We all have them. The days that you know you should have just stayed in bed. Instead you dragged yourself out of the comfy covers and made your sleepy, grumpy kids follow suit.
The day that your morning prayer with the kids is an exercise in desperation because in the ten minutes you’ve been awake you’ve already fielded ten fights. The day that not even prayer lifts anyone’s mood. The day that the simplest of breakfasts takes half an hour to prepare because mood.
The day that someone didn’t turn the dryer on bit washed another load so wet laundry sat in both washer and dryer all night. The day that you used every pot and pan in the house to make last night’s dinner but you don’t own a dishwasher so you have to wash them all by hand. The day that you have to remind the kids a hundred times to do the most basic of chores.
The day that it’s ninety by mid-morning and the kids, who begged to go outside, won’t stop running in and out because they’re hot. The day that ocd rules and adhd rages. The day that someone pulls a dozen books at once out of your freshly straightened bookshelf.
The day that you decide to paint your kids’ bedroom because you spent two days making sure it was spotless, only to find that you might as well have saved yourself the two days. The day that you realize you can’t paint a straight line after committing to stripe the room in three different colors. The day that an inexplicable puncture appears in the bottom of your paint can while you are standing on a chair holding it several feet off the ground painting the top of a wall.
The day you finally give up and plop on the couch to watch people on TV have bad days. The day you decide to wait for a new day to clean up after this one. The day you decide to blog about your troubles because really what else was there to talk about? Yep, we all have those days.
“Hey, Job, you’re glitching again.” Mara’s voice came through the neural transmitter. “What’s up?”
“This uniform doesn’t fit,” Job’s voice sounded tinny. “The collar has restricted blood flow and the shoulder seams are in the wrong place.” His shoulders twitched repeatedly, and one finger ran first left, then right, then left again under the thin collar, pulling it out of shape.
“The uniform is one solid piece, specially made to form fit,” Mara reminded him. “And you don’t have blood.”
“I cannot perform properly.” Job’s voice thinned farther. “My sensors are certain this uniform is wrong. I must have a new uniform.”
“Job, the uniform is not the problem.” Mara checked her feed. “Run a self-diagnostic immediately. These readings are out of balance; you need to find the source.”
“Uniform is sh-sh-shutting down central p-p-processing.” Job’s voice broke and stuttered, and he ripped at the collar of the uniform. “M-m-m-must cha-cha-“
“Manual override, freeze program,” Mara sighed. “Run full diagnostic on all Job circuits. Not just sensors this time! All circuits! This is the fifteenth test run; clearly the central processor is affected because he’s had a different glitch every time.”
“Unfreeze program.” Mara watched the robot press its cheeks until the face clicked open. “Job, put your face back on. Disconnecting your main sensors is not going to fix your processor. Oh good grief, you’ve done it anyway.”
It was the worst excuse for a map I had ever seen. Trust Lin to come up with something like this. Too much imagination, not enough sense, that girl.
That square might be the airport, I thought. Or if I was holding it upside down, maybe it was the fairgrounds. Given the giant question mark in the middle, I wasn’t holding it upside down.
What was that question mark about anyway? Who uses punctuation on a map? Lin would probably call it a challenge, but seriously. I just want to get where I’m going, not waste half an hour and twenty bucks worth of gas playing guessing games.
Next time I should probably just ask for written directions. Although, knowing Lun, she’d find a way to make that just as pointless. Could a map be written in poetry? If not, she’d probably try.
I wadded the fake parchment with unnecessary vigor and tossed it into the back seat. Time to ask for directions. “Excuse me, could you direct me to Knight’s Row? It must be, I’m supposed to look for the fourth gate west of the Great Hall. No, I’m not trying to be funny. Wait, come back! Hey, I just need directions!”
The address, Lin. Next time, just tell me the address.
Harry and Leah have a problem. There’s a fish in their bathtub, but that isn’t the problem. The problem is that the fish is dinner.
Mama’s special Passover dish is gefilte fish, special fish balls made from a carp. The best fish always sell out early, and dead fish spoil quickly, so the carp has to live in the bathtub for a week waiting to be cooked. Harry and Leah love to feed the carp, and especially appreciate that as long as the fish is there they can’t take a bath.
But Harry and Leah cannot bring themselves to eat gefilte fish. Who could eat a friend? And thus year’s carp is extra special; he is smart and friendly, and his name is Joe. They have to think of a way to rescue Joe before Mama turns him into the Passover meal!
The Carp in the bathtub is a delightful story about understanding and responsibility. For my children it was also an introduction to a time and traditions different from ours while demonstrating that children everywhere and in every age are all the same. By the way, Harry and Leah still don’t eat gefilte fish.
Matthew 4:18-22 “As he was walking along the Sea of Galilee, he saw two brothers, Simon (who is called Peter), and his brother Andrew. They were casting a net into the sea – for they were fishermen. ‘Follow me,’ he told them, ‘and I will make you fish for people. Immediately they left their nets and followed him. Going on from there, he saw two other brothers, James the son of Zebedee, and his brother John. They were in a boat with Zebedee their father, preparing their nets, and he called them. Immediately they left the boat and their father and followed him.”
Priorities
Matthew 10:34-39 “Don’t assume that I came to bring peace on the earth. I did not come to bring peace, but a sword. For I came to turn a man against his father, a daughter against her mother, a daughter-in-law against her mother-in-law; and a man’s enemies will be the members of his household. The one who loves a father or mother more than me is not worthy of me; the one who loves a son or daughter more than me is not worthy of me. And whoever doesn’t take up his cross and follow me is not worthy of me. Anyone who finds his life will lose it, and anyone who loses his life because of me will find it.”
Preparation
Mark 8:34-38 “If anyone wants to follow after me, let him deny himself take up his cross, and follow me. For whoever wants to save his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life because of me and the gospel will save it. For what does it benefit someone to gain the whole world and yet lose his life? What can anyone give in exchange for his life? For whoever is ashamed of me and my words in this adulterous and sinful generation, the Son of Man will also be ashamed of him when he comes in the glory of his Father with the holy angels.”
Preoccupation
Luke 9:57-62 “As they were traveling on the road someone said to him, ‘I will follow you wherever you go.’ Jesus told him, ‘Foxes have dens, and birds of the sky have nests, but the Son of Man has no place to lay his head.’ Then he said to another, ‘Follow me.’ ‘Lord,’ he said, ‘first let me go bury my father.’ But he told him, ‘Let the dead bury their own dead, but you go and spread the news of the kingdom of God.’ Another said, ‘I will follow you, Lord, but first let me go and say goodbye to those at my house.’ But Jesus said to him, ‘No one who puts his hand to the plow and looks back is fit for the kingdom of God.'”
Protection
John 10:27-30 “My sheep hear my voice, I know them, and they follow me. I give them eternal life, and they will never perish. No one will snatch them out of my hand. My Father, who has given them to me, is greater than all. No one is able to snatch them out of the Father’s hand. I and the Father are one.”
Persecution
John 12:23-27 “The hour has come for the Son of Man to be glorified. Truly I tell you, unless a grain of wheat falls to the ground and dies, it remains by itself. But if it dies, it produces much fruit. The one who loves his life will lose it, and the one who hates his life in this world will keep it for eternal life. If anyone serves me, he must follow me. Where I am, there my servant also will be. If anyone serves me, the Father will honor him. Now my soul is troubled. What should I say – Father, save me from this hour? But that is why I came to this hour. Father, glorify your name.”
As anyone who follows my blog knows, I have been silent for several weeks. This was not by choice, but by circumstance. I want to try to explain why because I hope to encourage others to embrace who they are in whatever situation they may find themselves.
Life is not one size fits all. Every person is an individual with unique characteristics and needs. When individuals are combined into families, the combination of however many individuals are involved becomes a new and unique personality. That sounds complicated enough, but as individuals within the family grow and change, the family personality grows and changes. Puzzle pieces that fit together perfectly one day fit differently the next.
Our family has an extra unique personality. For starters, there are eight of us. Consider the standard occupancy limits on things like vehicles or hotel rooms if you want to grasp how unique that is. In addition, we homeschool all six of our children and have from the beginning; our days are full of living books, hours outside, family projects, and conversation. To add another difference from “normal,” my husband is a preacher, so is present and involved in most daily life instead of only nights and weekends. And on top of all of it, as a family we manage extreme personalities, emotional disorders, and behavioral disorders.
We’ve been growing this family personality for twelve years (longer counting the time my husband and I dated), but it has been four years since the last addition. Until this year. This year God blessed us with our sixth child, a precious boy who needed a family. It was unplanned and unexpected, so the adjustment period has been consuming. We went from officially homeschooling three last year to officially five plus a preschooler thus year. We went from knowing every person in the house intimately to learning how a whole new individual fit into our family personality. Adjusting to the new family personality that individual helped create.
In short, our life has never been “normal,” and the last few months made us even less so. For many, this fact makes us unappealing, even crazy. For others, it makes us a novelty. The truth is that not being normal makes us awesomely normal. There is no such thing as normal; it’s an imaginary construct that we as individuals and families constantly stress ourselves out trying to achieve or at least pretend we have. In our stress and our pretense, we miss out on the beauty and variety of “not normal.” We miss out on everything different individuals have to offer each other.
Because we are not normal, I had to take a break from this aspect of myself as an individual. I had to focus on adding new elements to our family personality. I had to find our new normal. It won’t be the last time our life brings change. It won’t be the last time I have to step back and learn something new. It won’t be the last time I get to experience the beauty of “not normal.”
In the book of Mark we read about a man who was deathly ill, plagued with leprosy. This man had nothing left to lose, and threw himself at Jesus feet with a poignant faith born of desperate need. “If you are willing, you can make me clean.”
What if Jesus had practiced social distancing? It was the law, after all. The law He had given, in fact. Those who were sick with leprosy (a death sentence at the time and highly contagious) were unclean and anyone who came in contact with them became unclean. Lepers were cast out of society to die a slow, painful, lonely, poverty-stricken death.
What if when the leper fell on his face before Jesus and begged for healing, Jesus had stepped away to a safe distance? What if He had covered his face? What if He had demanded the leper follow the law to be examined by a priest and ritually cleansed before coming into His presence? What if He had ordered every other person nearby to declare themselves unclean from contact with the leper and be ritually cleansed by a priest before allowing them to interact with others, even their own families? What if He didn’t reach out and touch the leper with His own hand, didn’t look into his eyes and say, “I am willing?”
What if the law He had given was not about physical sickness at all? What if it was an object lesson about the importance of separating ourselves from the attitudes and behaviors of those who do not acknowledge God? What if it was about the corruption of a fearful and unbelieving heart? What if it was a reminder to look to Him for heart healing? What if God’s people got it wrong?
What if Jesus had stayed in Heaven? What if He kept His distance from all the corruption of men? What if He didn’t show His face on Earth so that men could know Him? What if He avoided the diseased and the outcasts to appease the misguided and self-absorbed people and to escape their constant verbal abuse? What if He didn’t speak about the depth and the wonder of His covenant, of the Kingdom which is not of this world, and fulfilled the Satan-driven desire of mankind for a perfect and safe physical life? What if He avoided the anger and rejection that tortured His body and broke His heart, that nailed His physical body to a cross and lifted His love so high that no one could avoid seeing it?
What if He didn’t come to be safe or comfortable or admired? What if being saved is not about being safe? What if following His example means I will look different, that I will never be accepted, that I will face misunderstanding and abuse at the hands of other humans? What if I stand beneath His cross, facing the world maskless, fearless, limitless, reaching out to hold the hands of the hopeless and lift them out of the pit?
Su Lin stood on the steps of the brick building, hands twisting the tail of her shirt into a tight knot. Today was the day. In a moment she would step through that door into the Naturalization Office. Mr. Munro would be waiting for her in his stuffy little office, a jar of pens and a bundle of handheld flags on one edge of his desk.
He would peer over the top of his reading glasses as she came through his office door, his hair sticking up in front where he had run his hand through it absently during his previous appointment. He would beckon her to a seat, tap a few keys on his laptop, and jerk a brand new test booklet from the top drawer of the filing cabinet near his shoulder. There were never pleasantries with Mr. Munro; no preliminaries, just business.
First, he would slap a sheet of written questions on the desk in front of her. He would look bored while she read them aloud, bored because after all the forms she had filled out for him he knew she could read anything he put in front of her. He would tap a few more keys and flip the page over, then shove one of the pens from the jar in her direction. She would carefully write every word he dictated to her in his squirrely voice, sure she was misspelling every other word but knowing it probably wouldn’t matter.
It was the next part of the test that knotted her shirt. Six questions that she prayed she would answer correctly, six questions that would determine where she spent the rest of her life. It was Mr. Munro’s favorite part, the only thing he seemed to get excited about.
Su Lin untwisted her shirt and took a deep breath. In half an hour, she told herself, she would walk back out that door with a brand new flag and a brand new nationality. And tomorrow, she would light a special Independence Day sparkler in celebration.
The Mirror Image raced the storm. She was the fastest sail on the bay, but this was the greatest race of her career. A race with the wind itself.
It was a beautiful storm. The sun rose gold ahead of her, lighting the water with its false promises of the day ahead. Behind her, dark clouds loomed over the golden rays, over the Mirror Image, over the glassy surface of the bay. Sheets of water waved below them, riling the water into angry ripples like a shattered looking glass.
A fork of light split the gloom, its electricity carried through the rain to set teeth on edge. It was too close for comfort, but the sails were full. She had lost the race. Buffeted by the edge of the storm, sails dampened by spray were furled and tied. Sea anchor cranked and rattled into the depths. Her mirror image in the water dimmed and scattered as the rain caught her. She would wait, secure against the onslaught, her masts barren in salute.
The Mirror Image raced the storm. She was the fastest sail on the bay, but this was the greatest race of her career. A race with the wind itself.
The Word Worker 