Tag: #amwriting

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Hate coming up with goals? They’re like taking vitamins – good for you.

When I retired after nineteen years of teaching high school geometry, I had wonderful ideas for projects I’d tackle and creative things I would learn how to do.

My list included the following:

Bake bread every week (or as often as necessary).

Ha, ha – not my bread, in case you were thinking I made that.

Crochet. (I don’t know how to do this.)

Paint. (I don’t know how to do this either.)

Read a new craft book about writing each month.

Create websites. (Another thing I don’t know about.)

Read the Bible all the way through.

Do every cross-stitch project I’ve bought. (I’m not going to count these. Suffice it to say, they would keep me busy for a while.)

My Christmas present . . . from 2023. I’m working on it! Great art takes time.

Learn Spanish. (Working on this one. Just passed my three-year mark of consecutive days on Duolingo.)

Keep a really clean house. (Don’t ask.)

Befriend a crow so it will bring me gifts or eat out of my hand.

Refinish furniture I picked up from the curb. (I started this if one, if picking up the trash from people’s curbs counts as starting.)

Create a Hobbit-like house from the tree stump in my backyard using power tools. (Tools that I don’t know how to use.)

Eat lunch with one grandkid once a week.

Read every unread book in my house. And don’t buy new ones until that’s done. (Bwaa-ha-ha-ha-ha.)

Go through every cabinet in my house and get rid of what isn’t being used.

I’m sure there are more. Did I do those things? A few. Do I still want to do those things? Yes. So why don’t I?

It comes down to time management. Looking at my life now, I wonder how I ever got ANYTHING done when I worked as a teacher. I had no free time. Now that is all I have. So where do those precious moments go?

A friend of mine, Joy Massenburge (joykmassenburge.com), taught me a neat trick. She gave me five minutes to write a bucket list. Then she told me to pretend I had only a year to live and asked me which three items from the list became most important. Once I’d identified those, I had to run each new project I considered—the next shiny thing that caught my eye—past that list of three. If the new thing didn’t apply in some way to one of those three things, push it to the side for now. And learn to say no.

Next, does this goal fit in with your God-directed plans? Solomon told us in Psalm 127, ”Unless the Lord builds the house, the builders labor in vain.” That tells me I’ll waste my time if I get off track. Does that mean everything we do in our lives must be religious and preachy? I don’t think so. Jesus tells us in John 10 he came so we may have life, AND that we may have it more abundantly. I bet Jesus was fun to hang out with. And he could probably teach me a thing or two about refinishing the furniture I scavenge from my neighbor’s trash.

For the things that did pass the I’m-about-to-die test, Joy told me to set a goal to accomplish it. You’ve all heard of SMART goals. Specific, measurable, attainable, relevant, time-based.

My goal today is to sit down and make goals for 2025. I have a lot of meaningful things I want to do. But I also want to leave room for fun.

Like making friends with a crow so he’ll bring me shiny gifts. That takes time too.

What’s on your list? If you accomplished something that made you feel really good about yourself, let me know. I want to celebrate with you.

I have many things on my list of goals in 2025, and of course, writing makes up a huge part of that. One goal is to publish the contemporary romance I just finished. The title is Made for More, and it’s a story about a rock star who feels like something is missing in his life. I plan to send it off to an agent before the end of January. If he turns me down, I have a second agent in mind. If she says no thanks, I’ll publish it myself. Because, in all that free time since retiring, self-publishing is something I’ve learned how to do.

Created by AI – you can tell by the wonky fingers

My second writing goal is to write a romantic suspense for the first time. At one of our ACFW meetings, we did an activity where we chose three random tropes from a list. Mine were cowboy, fish-out-of-water, and age difference. We got five minutes to come up with a tentative plot. My idea involves a lady lawyer, an ex-Army sergeant who now works on a cattle ranch in south Texas, and a threat from a Mexican cartel member. Have I ever written a suspense novel? Nope. Am I letting that stop me? Nope.

The third goal is to finish the research I started for book four in my historical San Antonio series. This one will tell Grady’s story, and it involves Comanches, Texas Rangers, and finding Jesus when you have no one to teach you about him. Title is Pursued. Surprises abound! I’m 99% sure you’ll learn something you didn’t already know. I can’t wait to get this one done.

People tell us we get one page, possibly even one paragraph, to snag a new reader’s attention and convince them our book is exactly what they need. Supposing this is true, we need to write a killer first line. I watched this video from Reedsy – (they put out great information for writers, by the way), and they boil the first line particulars down to this.

  • Introduce the main character by name (first and last if possible).
  • Give a sense of immediacy (don’t start with “Ten years ago …)
  • Hint at the coming conflict (why should the reader care to finish the book?)

Spend some time on this. It will be effort well invested.

One last note: A critique member got a discouraging response last week. She’d read a touching (true) story about a man and she crafted a charming story in verse celebrating his life. She approached the family of the man to get their permission to publish it. Much to her shock and dismay, the response she received was negative, and in my opinion, unnecessarily cruel. My friend told us, in tears, she didn’t want to write anymore. She felt unappreciated, unneeded, and unworthy of the task. We reminded her God gave her the talent and ideas to share his love through her work, and to not let the enemy steal that from her. If you’ve experienced something like this, remember God picked YOU to write the story he put in your mind. There is a particular problem in this world that you were put here to solve. Don’t let the enemy take that away from you. Write out your publishing goals for 2025. I’m behind you all the way!

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Happy birthday to Book Three in the San Antonio series! Want to celebrate with me?

Quenby and Jonathan have been causing their readers’ hearts to beat harder for the past 365 days. Enough to place third in the 2023 Selah Award contest and earn a gold in the 2023 BookFest Award. Take advantage of this sale to grab a copy for yourself.

And if you like what you read, go back for seconds with Protected and A Father’s Gift. They’re available as a paperback, eBook, or audiobook.

First six to respond showing their Amazon order for Accepted will receive a free audiobook download code (three for Protected and three for A Father’s Gift). Just in time for you to take care of some Christmas shopping.

Click the buy link here: https://tinyurl.com/44cb9adc

Enjoy!

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Who loves to read?

I love to read, and new books excite me the way getting a new puppy excites some people. (Actually, new puppies excite me too, but I don’t bring them home as often.)

I made a vow to myself in January this year NOT to buy a new book until I’d read all the unread copies I already own. Yeah, that didn’t work out so well. Here are my most recent acquisitions. To be fair, some were given to me (and I accepted in the name of research – I’m considering writing a book to submit to Love Inspired), the big on one the bottom is one I use for my editing jobs, but some I got just ’cause I wanted them.

But it’s really exciting when a new book comes out that was written by a friend. I want to share two of those with you today.

The first comes from Jodie Wolfe. Her tagline: Stories Where Hope and Quirky Meet. Well, I’m always up for quirky. Her most recent came out a little earlier this year, titled Convincing Lou. It’s a western (checkmark for me), the female MC disguises herself as a man (checkmark for me), and it’s romance (double checkmark for me).

Ellie Lou Williams will do just about anything to save her ranch, even going undercover as a man to round up a fella who is late to his own wedding. The reward will more than cover the money she owes the bank and solve all her problems.

Caleb Dawson agrees to one final job as a deputy U.S. Marshal before he starts his new life away from the trail and tracking criminals. What he isn’t counting on is a mysterious bounty hunter who’s determined to undermine his every step.

Will one reach their goal first? Or will they learn to lean on God and work together?

Check it out! You may find a new favorite author.

The second book I want to share with you was written by Nancy Lavo. This is Book Three in her Lone Star Loves series. Nancy writes with a sweet sense of humor and a gentle touch of God. These stories (which can be read as stand-alones, so don’t worry about starting with book three) are set in a fictional small town called Village Green. This book, The Perfect Getaway, stars Riley, a spunky elementary teacher who’s hiding a secret, and Sam, the hunky police officer in town whose antenna is twitching because he KNOWS Riley’s hiding something. The kids in the classroom offer plenty of humorous moments, but the conversation between the two main characters will have you chuckling. Nancy’s book won the coveted #1 New Release banner on Amazon on launch day.

Book blurb: First-grade teacher Riley Vreeland is terrified. When the attention from a recent acquaintance escalates from creepy to threatening, she flees to Village Green. With its limited employment, housing, and amenities, the tiny town is the last place someone would choose to settle. And hopefully it’s the last place her stalker will look.

Serving and protecting the people of Village Green is hard-wired into police officer Sam Walker’s DNA. The new teacher’s fearful response to him and his offer to help sets his suspicions on high alert. What is she hiding? He’s determined to find out.

After Sam delivers a stray dog to her, Riley softens toward the nosy cop. It’s hard to hate the man who supplied her with her four-footed best friend. And his rapport with her first graders is heartwarming. Riley is tired of looking over her shoulder. Can she trust the small-town superhero with her secret, or will the loyalty she admires in him bring danger to her door?

You can’t go wrong with Nancy’s stuff. She’s a pro at sweet, contemporary, uplifting romance.

What’s the latest new book you brought (or snuck) home? I’ll give away a copy of Nancy’s book to one lucky winner. Comment for a chance to win.

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Set Your Course by the Stars

Summer is vacation time for most people, and we were no different. We took our oldest granddaughter, Amber, to Chicago so she could go to the Lallapalooza music festival and see Laufey and Stray Kids.

I expected the worst (ok, Boomer) and had resigned myself to spending a long, hot day being tortured, but both concerts she wanted to hear pleasantly surprised me.

Laufey played in front of the Chicago Philharmonic Orchestra and walked out onto the stage wearing a frothy gown worthy of Ginger Rogers on a dance floor with Fred Astaire. Her music, according to Amber, is romantic. I agreed. Young girls spread across the grassy field and sang along with Laufey’s tunes. It was a peaceful, sweet hour.

Amber warned us Stray Kids would be different. If you’ve never heard of them, don’t feel bad. I hadn’t either. In fact, I’d never heard of 95% of the groups in the four-day festival. For Stray Kids, think ‘NSYNC, only Korean.

Amber’s description of their music was “loud.” Pshaw. My concert years were in the ’80s. I can do loud. But, unexpectedly, I enjoyed the music and the choreography of the eight young men. Their dance moves gave me Bruno Mars vibes. And though I hardly understood any words (stadium-sized concerts are always very reverb-ery), I had a good time. My favorite band member was Felix (front and center in the pic). I’m a sucker for guys with long hair (as you’ll see in my next book, which features a rock star named Derek, who is moving into his third decade in music.)

The next day, we dragged Amber on an architectural tour of the buildings on the riverwalk. (My husband’s suggestion, not mine.) I was almost as bored with the idea as Amber, but at least it was cooler on the river and we could sit down on the boat. However, this too surprised me by being interesting.

One fact I learned was the meaning of the Chicago flag.

The blue stripes represent the riverbanks, an obvious visual, but the stars caught my attention. Each star stands for an important event in the history of Chicago.

The first star represents Fort Dearborn, which established Chicago’s core. The second star is for the Great Chicago Fire of 1871, supposedly started when Kate O’Leary’s cow kicked over a lantern while being milked in the barn. Star number three is for the World’s Columbian Exposition of 1893 (the World’s Fair). Check out Erik Larson’s book, The Devil in the White City, to learn more about that. And number four marks the Century of Progress Exposition of 1933.

My first thought on hearing this set of facts was to wonder what Texas would consider star-worthy. But close on the heels of that was to question what my stars would represent. If I followed Chicago’s example, I would choose events that formed me, established my future, challenged me, and moments of triumph.

Hmm. Choosing my stars was harder than I expected it to be. Being a follower of Jesus has certainly directed my path. The births of my two children did as well. My divorce created a challenge, but graduating from college after seventeen years of chipping away at it was a definite triumph. That led me to becoming a teacher. I remarried, which altered my financial future, allowing me the freedom to become a writer.

What would your stars represent? Have you limited your flag to only four?

I think it’s important to realize these milestones. Be grateful for defining moments. Forge through the challenging ones. Celebrate the triumphs. And keep a space open for one more star.

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Are You Smarter Than the Average Bear?

Let me give you a dose of eighth-grade math PTSD. Who remembers mean, median, and mode, our initial foray into the (horrible, terrible, no good, very bad) world of statistics? If I were to rank all the college classes I’ve taken, Stats would be at the low end of the bottom tier. But, regardless of the scars it might have left on us all, most of us are familiar with finding the mean. (Averaging, in mere mortal speak.) Average is considered the middle of the road, the fifty percent mark. Anything greater than .50 is above average. Everything that falls beneath is below average. Simple enough concept.

Yet, according to a psychology study, sixty-five percent of Americans believe they are above average. [1]

Y’all, the math doesn’t work.

In these days of crippling self-confidence issues, maybe it’s good that we think we’re better than we actually are. Nothing wrong with a positive self-image, right? High self-confidence can give us the boost to try something scary, like hang-gliding, opening a new business, or raising bees.

I wonder why we’re predisposed to think of ourselves so highly. The study didn’t pinpoint the reason why we tend to overestimate ourselves, only that we do.

What I found disturbing was we give ourselves an above-average rating most often when judging ourselves morally. [2]

In other words, I am more likely to believe I am morally superior to those around me than, say, that I am more clever or wise.

Hmm. That caused me to do some serious self-reflection. How would I rank myself, compared to others, in aspects like intelligence, honesty, faithfulness, cleverness, competency, friendliness?

I recently read the novel, Rebecca, by Daphne du Maurier. (Spoiler alert. I will discuss the ending of the novel.) In the story, the unnamed narrator is a young woman in her twenties who marries a wealthy Englishman in his forties after a whirlwind courtship. (Let’s call her Claire.) Claire grew up poor and was working as a lady’s companion when she met Maxim. She struggles with self-worth throughout the novel, especially when they arrive at Manderly and she learns about the beautiful, composed, socially graceful Rebecca, who died the year prior.

Claire convinces herself Maxim doesn’t truly love her because she believes he has never gotten over losing Rebecca. However, when a boat crashes near their home, the rescue operation discovers the sunken remains of Rebecca’s sailboat, with her decomposing body inside. Since Maxim identified “her” body two months after the accident, he becomes a suspect in Rebecca’s death.

He confesses to Claire that he actually hated Rebecca, who was cold, manipulative, and unfaithful. She goaded Maxim into shooting her, telling him she was pregnant with another man’s child. Maxim killed her, then took her out on the sailboat and scuttled it with her body inside.

When Claire hears Maxim’s confession, she does all she can to clear his name. She travels to London to see the doctor Rebecca visited the day she died and learns Rebecca was not actually pregnant. She had cancer. The doctor told her she had only months to live and would die in agony.

This information is shared with the prosecuting attorney, and when asked, Claire lies for Maxim. Though she knows he shot his wife, she tells them Rebecca was distraught with the news of the diagnosis and killed herself.

Now. Back to the morally superior question. On average, we tend to rank ourselves as “above average” on moral issues. However, if you found yourself in a similar situation, where you could reasonably excuse the bad actions of someone you loved, especially if the truth would ruin not only their life but also yours, would you lie to protect them? If your lie kept your child from going to prison? Your mother from the death penalty?

What would I do? Would I truly be a member of the “above average,” or would I be part of the 15% who thinks I am better, but who is fooling themselves? I hope and pray, should I ever be in this position, I would turn to God and trust in his providence. Regardless of how bad things looked, or how devastating my truth would be, I must hope I could do what the Bible teaches us.

Thou shalt not lie.

I hope I could stick myself close to God, like a grass burr attaches to my sock, and trust his guidance would carry me through whatever heartache might come.

What about you? If you were Claire, would you have handled things differently? If you have a story like Claire’s where God brought you through the fire, share it with us so we can draw strength for our own trials.

[1] https://tinyurl.com/SmarterSurvey

[2] https://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pmc/articles/PMC5641986/

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Discover a wonderful surprise …

Cilantro. Brussel sprouts. Liver and onions. You either love them or hate them.

My “ew” food was grapefruit. It tasted bitter and was hard to get into. The peel came off easily enough, but the membrane encasing each segment was tough, difficult to chew, and left a weird sensation in my mouth. To avoid that, I attacked the translucent skin encasing each segment with my sharpest knife, like a surgeon wielding a scalpel, peeling the membrane away. Once I had uncovered naked pulp, I ate it, pretending it was an orange. Without the bitter membrane, it tasted pretty good. But the process took way too long and a level of absorption that rivaled Hannibal Lecter.

My brother- and sister-in-law are health-conscious vegetarians and eat grapefruit for breakfast. They own those fancy little shark-toothed spoons, a necessity if you plan to separate the pulp from the pith. But nothing puts a kink in your slinky faster than getting a squirt of acidic juice in your eye as you wrestle with your hemisphere of pungent bitterness. The level of sugar required to make that palatable effectively negates the healthy vibe. Between squinting for visual protection and the involuntary facial contortions resulting from activating the bitterness receptors on the back of my tongue, I feared I gave Mr. Bean a run for his money.

Then I stopped one summer at a roadside fruit stand on my way to South Padre Island and bought four large grapefruit. I had grand plans of being healthy while I was on the island. Replacing donuts with something distasteful for breakfast qualified.

I discovered something wonderful. Texas grows delicious grapefruit. The Rio Grande Valley, Texas’s cornucopia, produces globes of deliciousness with names like Rio Star or Ruby Red. El pomelo grown here are larger and pinker than the measly, bitter yellow ones from Florida. I fell in love with grapefruit that summer.

Life changed when I bought a cold-press juicer. I envisioned myself using it to concoct healthy drinks out of kale, spinach, and ethically sourced oak leaves that would cleanse my liver, restore my pre-menopause memory, or make my skin look youthful and fresh. Then I had an epiphany. Juice the grapefruit.

Friends, I’m here to tell you nothing tastes better than a glass of fresh-pressed grapefruit juice. One softball-sized fruit yields about eight ounces of bliss. I slice them into wedges vertically (not the direction you cut if you plan to acid-etch your eyeballs for breakfast), then carefully remove the pinkish-orange outer peel. I say carefully, because you don’t want to accidentally squeeze the segments and waste any of that precious, delicious elixir. Then, one at a time, drop the slices down the juicer’s chute and watch liquid the color of a sunrise come pouring out.

So, in the year of our Lord 2024, screw your courage to the sticking point and try something new. Boldly go where you’ve not gone before. Start each morning with a glass of freshly pressed grapefruit juice. You won’t be sorry.

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If music be the food of love, play on. ~William Shakespeare

I spent nineteen years of my life inside a high school math classroom and I overheard many conversations. One of the most interesting topics to eavesdrop on was when the kids played the “Would You Rather?” game. A lot of questions were completely silly, like “Would you rather be Wonder Woman or Captain Marvel?” However, one struck me and all these years later, I still think about that question often.

Would you rather go blind or deaf?

Ooh. That would be a hard one to choose.

On the one hand, if I went blind, I could no longer drive. Driving, and the freedom it brings, would be hard to give up. I would never see the Grand Canyon; or any more beautiful sunsets; the face of Elias, my newest grandchild; or my granddaughters at their weddings.

But if I went deaf, I’d no longer hear music. That would be a huge thing to give up. I love music. The unexpectedness of a subtonic VII shift. Perfect harmonies. The power of a gravely voice that can sing sweet and clear just as well.

My husband and I spent a recent vacation with some of his school friends. Randy and Danny are brothers, both very smart and both very sarcastic. Being around them for a week was to be treated to nonstop comedic routines, perfect timing delivered with deadpan emotion. Side-splittingly funny.

We discussed music one night after supper. Sitting around the table, Danny asked if the music was more important to us, or the words. The construction or the story? Randy fell into the story camp. A lot of country music tells a story.

I’m on Team Music. I can listen to a Josh Groban song where he sings in Italian and not understand a word. But the music draws a story in my imagination. The notes speak to my soul. However, the poetry of a song’s lyrics get to me too. So maybe I’m Team Story after all. Hard to decide.

Randy grew vociferous in his defense of the story side of music. Danny, sitting quite still, got a self-satisfied look on his face. I knew he was about to deliver a bombshell of a wisecrack. He held his hands up, pantomiming playing a jaw harp. He said, “Randy would hear a song with this–” insert the jaw harp playing a single note–choing– “and would say, ‘Yeah! That’s a great song.'”

We laughed until tears streamed down our faces, but I’ve thought of that conversation a lot. What team would you be on? Are you moved by the notes or by the words? What is the one song in the world that always elicits an emotional response for you?

I like to write my books with music playing in the background. The sound of the songs sets a mood for me. I have playlists that I use for different scenes. Sad scenes. Love scenes. Angry scenes. What are your go-to songs? I may add them to my lists. If you want me to share my playlists, just comment at the end and I’ll send you my Spotify links.

When I wrote A Father’s Gift, I played songs that sounded sad or poignant. Manny, the main character, lost his father when he was a young boy. Now, with the birth of his first child impending, thoughts of his dad consume him. What could his father have taught him, had he been around? What advice would he share? Manny goes on a quest to find answers about what really happened that fateful day so many years ago. But his questions stir up sleeping dogs that certain people would rather let lie.

This novella eBook is currently on sale for $0.99. Quick and easy to send as a digital gift. Check it out while the sale lasts.

https://tinyurl.com/2xnz3cjd

Here is one of my favorite songs about the season. I hope you enjoy it. And I pray you have a blessed and merry Christmas.

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The most important thing people did for me was to expose me to new things. Temple Grandin

If you’re like most people, you tend to cross the road when you see change coming. We enjoy the comfort of doing / being / experiencing things we know.

But I like to mix things up every now and then. One easy thing to try is reading something written by an author I’ve never experienced. Being a writer means I have an unending supply of new material to sample. I enjoy supporting my fellow authors by purchasing their books, encouraging their efforts, and sharing the news of their accomplishments.

Today, I want to introduce you to Jodie Wolfe. Jodie’s tagline is “Where Hope and Quirky Meet.” If that doesn’t tell you everything you need to know about how Jodie writes, then see for yourself. She is doing a guest post for me today, so friends, meet Jodie!

Peace and God’s Creation – by Jodie Wolf

Every fall I look forward to going to the mountains behind our home to hike and enjoy the beauty of God’s Creation and the beautiful colors He has on display. Last year, my husband and I discovered a reservoir in the middle of the mountain. Even though we’ve lived in the area for over thirty years, we hadn’t heard about it. At the time, we couldn’t walk around much because I was in a surgical boot after having foot surgery a few months before.

This year, I couldn’t wait for the leaves to change on the mountain so we could go explore. I packed a picnic supper, and we left as soon as my husband got home from work. For the most part, we had the lake and the incredible view all to ourselves. As we sat down to our meal after hiking on one of the trails, I was overwhelmed by the beauty of God’s Creation. His peace flooded my soul. I couldn’t help but feel the trees were singing for joy with their colors on full display. It reminded me of this verse from Psalm 96:12 (NIV).

Let the fields be jubilant, and everything in them; let all the trees of the forest sing forest sing for joy.

As we left the area and started our drive home, my heart was at peace—His peace.

Peace is something my character in my new book, Wooing Gertrude, struggles with. Here’s a peek at the back cover blurb:

Enoch Valentine has given up finding peace for his past mistakes. He throws everything he has into being the new part-time deputy in Burrton Springs, Kansas, while maintaining the foreman position at a local horse ranch. But when trouble stirs on the ranch, he questions whether he’s the right man for either job.

Peace has been elusive for most of Gertrude Miller’s life, especially under the oppressiveness of an overbearing mother. She takes matters into her own hands and sends for a potential husband, while also opening her own dress shop. Gertrude hopes to build a future where she’ll find peace and happiness.

Will either of them ever be able to find peace?

(me again:) I enjoy stories about strong-willed, independent women. I feel sure this one will make me laugh. If you’re interested in trying something new, you can purchase Jodie’s book here:

Purchase Links

Ebook: https://pelicanbookgroup.com/ec/index.php?main_page=product_info&products_id=1635

Print: https://pelicanbookgroup.com/ec/index.php?main_page=product_info&products_id=1636

Jodie Wolfe creates novels where hope and quirky meet. She is a member of American Christian Fiction Writers (ACFW), and Faith, Hope, & Love Christian Writers (FHLCW). She’s been a semi-finalist and finalist in various writing contests. A former columnist for Home School Enrichment magazine, her articles can be found online at: Crosswalk, Christian Devotions, and Heirloom Audio. When not writing, she enjoys spending time with her husband in Pennsylvania, reading, walking, and being a Grammie. Learn more at www.jodiewolfe.com.

Social Media Links

Website: https://www.jodiewolfe.com

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/Jodie-Wolfe-553400191384913

BookBub: https://www.bookbub.com/profile/jodie-wolfe

Pinterest: https://www.pinterest.com/JodieAWolfe

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/15220520.Jodie_Wolfe

Amazon Author Page: https://www.amazon.com/Jodie-Wolfe/e/B01EAWOHXO/ref=dp_byline_cont_ebooks_1

I hope you enjoy Jodie’s book. And if you still need ideas for Christmas gifts, any of books one (Protected), two (A Father’s Gift – set at Christmastime), and three (Accepted) in my San Antonio series would make perfect stocking stuffers. Available on Amazon.

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Promise is a big word. It either makes something or it breaks something.

Since my husband, John, and I retired, we are now free to spend more time on “Grandparent duties.” Things like taking kids to the dentist so Mom doesn’t have to take off work. Or running forgotten things to the school, like homework or a Chrome book.

One thing I enjoy the most is meeting my grandkids at their schools for lunch. Parents don’t usually have this luxury. So, me and John showing up with a restaurant lunch is a special treat.

When we take lunch to my son Zach’s kids, it’s an all-day affair. He has four children, and three of them are at the same school. When we go see the young ones, we’re there for the long haul. The ladies in the front office laugh when they see us coming, loaded down like a pack mule.

Telling them we’ll come can seem like a small thing, a promise easily broken. After all, I justify to myself, I can always go next week. Missing a particular day is no big deal.

But I saw firsthand how wrong that assumption is.

Last week was Grandparents’ Day at Zach’s kids’ school. Liam, the oldest of the three, asked if we could come. John had plans, but of course, I said I’d be there.

Because it was Grandparents’ Day, a line had formed in the front office.

I headed down to the lunchroom to get a table while a runner went for the boys. Because of the delay, Alice’s class was already seated by the time I arrived. Usually, we’re there waiting for them, and we surprise them as they’re walking in from recess. But Liam told the other two we would be there, so Alice watched the door, waiting for me to come in.

She had just turned away when I entered, so she didn’t see me. Her shoulders slumped. She crossed her arms on the table and laid her head on them. Was she upset? I snuck up behind her, covered her eyes with my hands, and said, “Guess who’s here?”

When she lifted her face and turned toward me, a grin split her face from ear to ear, but a lone tear slipped down her cheek. She thought I wasn’t coming. She thought I had broken my promise. With a quick hug, all was made right in the world. We headed to the parents’ table, where the boys soon joined us.

What if I’d changed my mind? What if I told myself, “You’re busy . . . so many things to do today. Just go next week?” Alice’s tear gave the answer to that question.

One thing we can always trust in is God. He always keeps His promises. The Bible tells us, “He remains faithful. He cannot deny Himself.” 2 Timothy 2:13.

In Deuteronomy 31:8, God promised to never leave us or forsake us. Never will He leave sitting at the lunch table wondering where He is.

This knowledge of God’s faithfulness gets me through tough times. When I feel like life spins out of control or wonder why events didn’t pan out the way I expected, I fall back on this belief. God has promised to work all things out to the good of those who love him (Romans 8:28).

But best of all, nothing I can ever do will cause Him to stop loving me. One of my favorite verses in the Bible says this:

38 For I am convinced that neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither the present nor the future, nor any powers, 39 neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord. Romans 8:38-39

That’s a powerful promise. And if ever I forget it and lay my head down to cry, I know God will come up behind me and say, “Guess who’s here?”