Darrell and Martha's Wedding

This is an excerpt from the novel Confidence: Reliance on the Spirit. (Darrell lost his wife and his middle son on the same night, both from heart complications. Many months later he met Sister Martha, the new principal for the elementary school. Even though Martha's appearance was mousy, Darrell spied the beauty on the inside.)

Darrell and Martha were to be married on their favorite Kauai beach at six o'clock in the evening. All Darrell's children took their appointed places. Darrell's two little daughters, Marti and Maggie, wore their handmade, puffed sleeve, rose-colored, full-skirted flower girl dresses, and stood at the back with baskets filled with white and yellow plumeria petals. Mary wore a similar dress and was ready with a small bouquet of plumeria they had picked from a tree. Bill, Darrell's oldest son and his best man, wore a nice Hawaiian shirt with subtle shades of blue and green with a pair of dark slacks to match his dad. Dick and Dean stood ready in their ushering positions. Sarah and Katie, assigned to the guest book, gathered the guests to sign the book. Ben and Tom checked the refreshment table for forks, napkins, plates, and punch glasses. The entire family felt prepared.

Martha's wedding gown was simple: a white satin gown featuring a scooped neck, an empire waist, long open floating sleeves, and an A-line skirt that fell softly to the ground. She wore only a little makeup, and she was barefoot.

Darrell had good examples in Apelehama and Jacob, Lilia's grandpa and dad. The zeal that they showed for their wives had made them all very happy. Darrell vowed to himself that he would be the same kind of husband. He would love Martha and encourage her to love him back. He would be responsive to her moods and spontaneous too.

Martha wasn't worried at all, even though she was a virgin. She trusted Darrell implicitly and respected him in every way. He was considerate and heedful of her needs. Martha felt certain that God's plan for her was perfect. The instincts that God had built into a woman would kick in when the time came. Martha trusted the Lord to care for her.

The guests arrived between five forty-five and six o'clock in the evening. The awning provided some protection from the sun for those who sat in the back. It didn't matter too much to the guests, though, since the sun would be down by six-thirty anyway. The light ocean breeze felt refreshing and sweet. The sound of the waves crashing onto the shore lent a romantic bent to the entire scene.

Apelehama and Mandy sat in the front with Jacob and Francine, and their daughter, Lilia, and her friend, Jimmy. Francine didn't know quite what to think about sixteen-year-old Jimmy tagging along with her fourteen-year-old daughter, but then he and Bill were friends, and Bill had invited him. Jacob had told Francine not to worry. He had said that all the teenagers were like a beehive - they hummed in a group.

The ceremony was about to begin. Pastor Johnson took his position in the front. Darrell, and his son, Bill, stood straight and tall as they promenaded to the front and took their places to the right of Pastor Johnson.

"Ave Maria" played in the background as Maggie and Marti walked down the aisle tossing plumeria petals about. When they reached the front, they stood off to the left of Pastor Johnson, leaving enough space for their older sister, Mary, and their new mother, Martha. Mary strolled down the aisle of sand next. The rose-colored dress accentuated her attractive dark skin, and showed what a lovely girl she was.

Martha was poised at the back of the venue. Tom switched the music to "Timpani in D Major" by Mozart, which prompted the audience witnesses to stand.

Martha's toes were painted pink with an intricate palette of flowers on each big toe. She wore a traditional veil over her face. She had applied a little aqua-colored eye shadow, mascara, a little lip-gloss and blush, but wore no foundation. That was all the makeup that she wore. Darrell had encouraged her not to wear any makeup at all, but Martha had wanted to be ready for the camera. She wanted to remember that she was beautiful on this most special day of her life.

Martha strolled gracefully the distance of the sand aisle. She pointed her bare toes out and then down landing on the balls of her feet. Martha felt so blissful that she wore an infectious smile on her face all the way down the aisle. Her lips curved up in happy expectation. She strolled so smoothly and elegantly that she looked like an Olympic gymnast on a balance beam. Martha arrived at Mary's side. Now Mary, Maggie, and Marti smiled up at Martha too. Darrell's children loved Martha, and she loved them in return.

Pastor Johnson opened the ceremony. Darrell lifted the veil from Martha's face, and then took both her hands in his as they declared their vows to each other. The ring ceremony followed the vows. They exchanged plain gold bands. As far as Martha was concerned, the gift was Darrell. She didn't need a fancy ring.

Lastly, Pastor Johnson said, "I now pronounce you man and wife. You may kiss the bride." Darrell folded Martha tenderly in his arms and kissed her deeply with passion and love. He had loved her from the first moment that he set eyes upon her. Martha was perfect for him, and Martha knew it too. Pastor Johnson said in a formal tone, "I present to you Mr. and Mrs. Linderman."

Out of the Starting Gate

This is an excerpt from the first book in "The Faith Series": Innocence: Simplicity of Spirit.

Lilia came bounding into the kitchen from her bedroom. It was Saturday. She could spend the entire day with her horse, King, and she couldn't wait.

"Guess what I learned on Wikipedia, Gramps?" Lilia cried gleefully.

"Child, I'd have no idea." Apelehama sometimes couldn't keep up with his overzealous granddaughter, and he knew it.

"I learned that King is the 'peacock of the horse world.' He is sensitive and alert, and that he is the most beautiful horse in the world! I learned that he is naturally gaited with the walk, trot, canter, slow-gait, and rack. Most other horses have to be taught the slow-gait and the rack, but not King because it was bred into him!"

"That is interesting," Apelehama admitted.

"I learned that his ancestors were bred from a Narragansett Pacer and a Thoroughbred. Later, some Morgan blood was added for 'substance and action.' They purposefully developed the breed into a 'stylish fancy horse: beautiful for harness, strong enough for farm work, and fast enough for match racing.' I have the best horse in the world!"

"Do you now?" Apelehama thought perhaps Lilia was exaggerating a little.

"Yep, and that's why they used American Saddlebred horses in the movies of National Velvet, Gone with the Wind, and Zorro!" Lilia exclaimed. "They can even be taught to jump or dressage. They're really smart!"

Just like her, thought Apelehama. "Let's pray." Lilia prayed with her family, and gobbled down her bacon, eggs, and toast. She excused herself, and hit the back screen door running.

Lilia's dad smiled, "It's amazing how fast a kid can get out of the starting gate at that age!"

Her mom smiled too, and said, "Oh the joys and enthusiasm of youth."

Apelehama chimed in, "Speak for yourself. I've still got a little something left kicking in these old bones!"

Angels Welcoming a Soul into Heaven

This is an excerpt from Common Sense: Listening to the Spirit:

Jim and Lilia unsaddled and unbridled all four horses, brushed them down, and released them into the paddock. Lilia leaned on the paddock fence, and gazed thoughtfully at the meadow behind the fence. It looked golden in the setting sun and perfect like the Garden of Eden. Green leaves reflected gold and it was as if a halo shone over every plant. Two doves alighted on the fence opposite her.

She said, "Look Jim, two doves." The two doves coo-cooed and sung a sad song to each other.

"It's evening. Aren't they morning doves? Why are they here now?" Jim asked with interest.

She looked at him with meaning. "They're not called morning doves Jim, named after the earlier part of the day, but mourning doves, named after the emotion of death."

A moment passed while she stared into space. Jim watched her carefully and knew she had received knowledge of some kind. Up until now, the day had been perfect, so he didn't ask her, and he didn't want to know.

"Pray for strength Jim, we don't have what it takes to get through life on our own. Remember what it says in John 15:5' . . . apart from me you can do nothing.'"

He understood that something portentous had happened. He let it go. He wasn't Lilia and he didn't have the desire to know of the future or anything other than right now. He tried to distract her with his affection and love, and she let him. She also understood that her knowing couldn't change anything, so she let him wrap her up in his arms. They most certainly had their moments of passion, but this wasn't one of them. It was a moment of contentment in perfect peace with each other and their surroundings. They listened to the birds sing their last song, and then to the chorus of crickets and frogs. It relaxed them both so much just leaning on each other that they didn't want to lose the instant, and they let it be.

Lilia sighed, and tuned to kiss Jim softly. He said with quiet peace, "It's been a really nice day honey. I'd better go home. I love you." He kissed her so sweetly that Lilia heard the singing of angels. They surrounded the couple and poured out a literal chorus of melodic harmony. He ended the kiss and watched her carefully.

"Jim, do you hear the chorus of angels singing?" She looked up at him with sincerity and awe.

"No honey, I don't," he replied uncertainly.

"They're celebrating something. The music makes our music on earth sound like the banging of cans together. It is perfect bliss," she said as she hugged him.

He hugged her back, kissed her on the forehead, and then gently caressed her lips with his. He said, "I wish every day could be like today."

"I do too, my Jim."

He held her hand extended out for a moment and said, "I guess I should go," even though he didn't want to leave.

"Good night Jim, I love you," she cooed. He turned and walked to his truck. He felt full of peace, love, and God's Light."

When I'm Sad, I Sing Praise!

Three and a half years ago, we learned that my brother Peter had lymphoma cancer. His battle with it is almost over now. Only God knows the time and date. Back when I first learned about Peter's illness, I bawled my eyes out for an hour, and then went into my recording studio, wrote this song, and recorded it in three parts within one hour. Sometimes, that is the way God works in a person.

Psalm 42:5 NLT:

"Why am I discouraged?

Why is my heart so sad?

I will put my hope in God!

I will praise him again - 

My Savior and my God!"

[These are the notes:

Do re fa so so fa

Fa la do re re do

Do re fa re do la

Fa so la so so fa]

When I'm sad, I sing praise!

When I'm sad, I sing praise!

For my soul needs Your rest.

When I'm sad, I sing praise!

When I'm down, You lift me up.

When I'm down, You lift me up.

For my soul needs Your rest.

When I'm down, You lift me up.

(Raise the key 1/2 step)

To my Lord, I sing praise!

To my Lord, I sing praise!

I thank You for my days.

To my Lord, I sing praise!

By Your grace, I am here.

By Your grace, I am here.

To my Lord lift Your praise.

By Your grace, I am here.

(Raise the key 1/2 step)

To Your love, I testify.

To Your love, I testify.

No more fears have I.

To Your love I testify.

To Your strength, I hold tight.

To Your Strength, I hold tight.

To Your love and Your might.

To Your strength, I hold tight.

(Raise the key 1/2 step)

I am home, I'm with You.

I am home, I'm with You.

I am home, You saw me through.

I am home, I'm with You.

(Raise the key 1/2 step)

I sing praise for my days.

I sing praise for my days.

I'm no more a jar of clay.

I sing praise for my days.

The Bible is the New Cool

This is an excerpt from the the book Common Sense: Listening to the Spirit, which was just released by the publisher:

Derek, Lilia, and Butch sat in the study hall. All three of them poured over their Bibles. Jack wondered at all the Bibles that had popped up at school lately, and decided to tease Butch about it, "When did you become a Bible thumper?" He chuckled in an accusatory and unpleasant nasal tone.

"Get with the program Jack! The Bible is the new cool!" Butch chortled and shook his head in disbelief at his own interest. "I can't get enough of it. Nola and I really dig it!"

Jack asked, "Why? It's just a bunch of religious crap!" Jack's angst showed itself in the little bit of spittle that ran from the corner of his mouth.

"Don't knock it if you haven't tried it. God's wisdom changes us and makes us into better people, people who can be happier just being people." Butch chuckled. When did I become so wise? He felt completely undaunted by anyone who poked fun at him because it was the first time in his life in which he felt internal peace.

Lilia listened to the conversation with interest, but kept her nose in her book, since she didn't want to interrupt Butch. Derek Listened, too. They both knew that Butch must have done the "one-eighty" somewhere along the line.

They listened carefully as Butch countered, "You should come to one of Lilia's 'Ride by His Side' Saturdays. It might really turn you on. You might actually have fun!"

"How many people go to that anyway?" asked Jack curiously, but with hesitation. He was part of the beer and party crowd and didn't necessarily want his life to change.

"There are usually between twenty and thirty people, and if you come to our fellowship on Thursday evenings, you could learn about what we're doing to change the world," said Butch with enthusiasm and winked at Lilia. She and Derek smiled. They were now officially included in the conversation. "Lilia might even find you a girlfriend. That wouldn't be all bad, would it?" Jack glanced in Lilia's direction, and she nodded, "Yes" in a knowing manner.

"Let me know when you have the next one," said Jack, who liked to please people, whether he meant it or not, "Maybe I'll try it."

Incredible Cabo San Lucas Whale Migration

The first week in November, we traveled to our place in Cabo San Lucas, Baja California, the Pacific side. We planned to vacation, enjoy my famous nephew photographer and his lovely wife, and conduct a photo shoot on the beach for the cover of my next book in the Sexy at Sixty series.

The last play day of our visit, we witnessed the most massive California Gray Whale migration imaginable. We glanced up from the pool to see the spouts of Gray Whales fill the blue Pacific from the shoreline to as far as the eye could see. It was unbelievable! The event lasted for over a period of a couple of hours, which means that there had to be hundreds of thousands of whales!

The spouts of the whales are very high, and they blast out into a spray that rises in the air up to 15 feet. The whoosh from the spout is so powerful that it can be heard up to a half mile away on a calm day. They spout a few times, and then dive again. The number of times they spout depends on how long they spent in the dive.

The California Gray Whales swim eight thousand miles from the Bering Sea in Alaska to the Sea of Cortez in Baja California to give birth to their calves and grow fat on the plankton in the enriched Sea of Cortez. They vacation in the bays and inlets off of Cabo until they give birth to their calves.

The newborn whales are about 15 feet long, and weigh around 1500 pounds. The adults are 40 to 50 feet in length, and weigh up to 73,000 pounds. The calf's blubber grows from the cow's 50% fat milk. The calf cavorts with its mother in the warm lagoon, and grows stronger swimming against the ocean current. When it needs to rest, it rests on top of its mother. When the calf reaches 19 feet in length, and around 3000 pounds, the cow and calf depart to return to their northern destination in the spring.

Every year, I've seen an occasional whale, but I've never witnessed a migration of this size. It was exhilarating and astonishing! God grows bigger in my eyes every day. I was struck with awe at the design of the perfect ways of our Creator.

Imp on The Boston Duck Tour

George, the conDucktor, rolled the Duck down the street to the river. They drove down the ramp, and splashed right into the river. Jeremy busily took pictures of the entrance into the water, as the truck became a boat. "We'll let you get a good look at the Boston and Cambridge skylines," said George with a broad sweep of his arm.

"Wow! This is really neat!" yelled Kimo.

Lilia's grandpa, Apelehama, emphatically said, "This is very interesting."

"Yeah Dad, it's pretty cool," agreed his son, Jacob.

Fifteen-year-old Lilia ran her hand through the water and splashed it up at seventeen-year-old Jim, her bodyguard boyfriend. She cried, "Splashdown!" Jim, dripping wet, grabbed Lilia's hand and shook it all over her face. Lilia giggled and scooped up another handful of water. She sprayed it all over the security team, Bill, Kimo, Wilson, and Jim, "Splashdown!"

"Lilia, knock it off!" yelled Jim, who didn't appreciate how cold the water felt in the late fall.

Lilia giggled again and ran her hand down into the water, and sprayed it up all over the four men, "Splashdown!"

"Lilia, that's enough, it's not that warm out here!" Jim seized both her hands and held them tight in his to prevent her from doing it again.

Wilson smirked, "You really are a little imp, aren't you?"

Lilia giggled and replied, "'Not I,' said the falcon to the fly!"

"Right," Wilson laughed, "You are an imp!" Jim released Lilia's hands, and then she splashed Wilson.

Wilson yipped at Jim,  as he shivered, "Seriously, do you think you could get her to stop that?" Jim grabbed Lilia, lifted her up, and changed places with her.

"Now, it's my turn," Jim said with a chuckle, and then splashed Lilia in the face. She started laughing uncontrollably. She hiccupped and snorted until Wilson couldn't stand it and burst out laughing with her. Her nose wheezed and soda spewed out. Bill and Kimo crowed with the hilarity of it.

"Men, don't encourage her!" ordered Jim.

Lilia cried, "Imp!" and rolled out of her seat with laughter. Jim picked her up and flipped her across his knee. Whack! He landed the first blow on her butt. "Imp!" Lilia cried and laughed with convulsions. Whack! Jim landed the second blow. "Imp!" Lilia cried and choked with laughter. Whack! Jim landed the third blow. "Imp!" Lilia cried as she cackled and sputtered.

"How much can she take?" the whooping Wilson inquired.

"This could go on all day!" spewed Bill.

Whack! Jim hit her again. "Imp!" hee-hawed Lilia. She swallowed her own spit and choked. She coughed and coughed until Jim let her up. "Imp!" she cried right up into Jim's face.

Jim started to smile and squalled at her, "You are an imp!"

"Imp!" Lilia cried and tears ran down her face. Jeremy and Dennis crowed along with the rest of the security team. Apelehama's laughter started as a low growl and burst forth into a cacophony. Lilia's mom and Apelehama's new wife tittered while Lilia's dad simply shook his head from side to side with a smile. Lilia could be very entertaining.

George drove the family and friends around the Charles River for twenty minutes. He chuckled at the antics of the young Ms. Christian. He had heard that she was a dichotomy of intelligence and foolishness. She gave him a first-hand show today. He drove the Duck up the ramp and out of the water, and then headed back for the hotel with water sleuthing off the wheels.

Lilia continued her outburst as she took deep breaths. She pointed at Wilson, wiggled her finger at him, and squealed with laughter, "Imp!"

Wilson couldn't contain himself and roared with laughter too. "You sure are a goofy girl!"

"Imp!" Lilia cried out of breath. The Duck stopped in front of the hotel. Jim jumped out easily and grabbed Lilia out of the back of the Duck. "Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha!" she laughed with satisfaction, "Imp!" Jim tossed her up over his shoulder and lugged her inside the hotel. Bill, Kimo, and Wilson sputtered with laughter. Jim smiled. She can really be funny at times, thought Jim.

A Young Girl with Lockjaw

This is an excerpt from the book Innocence: Simplicity of Spirit. Mele is twelve years old, and Lilia is eleven years old:

The wound on Mele's upper thigh had grown to about ten inches across with a hole in the center, which oozed pus.

"Mom, am I going to lose my leg?" asked Mele. Ioka, her mom, couldn't look at Mele and answer truthfully. A lump formed in her throat and choked her up.

***

Lilia now knew that Mele might die. The doctor had said that the mortality rate was highest in children who hadn't been vaccinated. That was Mele.

"Pray with me Mom," said Lilia through a shield of tears. The mother and daughter clasped each other's hands while Lilia prayed. "Dear Lord, please help Mele to get better. She's the only friend I have who brings out the best in me. I need her, Lord." Francine, Lilia's mom, started to cry too. Lilia continued, "Please Father, give Mele enough strength to bear this." Francine had told Lilia that the illness often took three to four weeks to subside, and sometimes longer.

***

Ioka and Francine let Lilia go into Mele's room by herself. The two moms hung outside the doorway. Mele lifted the compress and showed Lilia her leg.

Lilia observed it, and said, "It looks like you were shot with a bow and arrow. There's a great big hole in the center."

"I'm very sick Lilia. I don't know if I'm going to get better," whispered Mele slowly.

"I know Mele. You know I want you to get better," said Lilia softly, "but if God wants children to keep him company, then we know that you'll be in the hands of the only One who loves you more than all of us." Francine had to turn away because Lilia's words touched her so deeply. She would have to remember to tell Jacob about this.

"Thank you for being my best friend Lilia. If you and I are still friends in years, I know that you will always be dear to me, even though you can be a snot sometimes," said Mele barely audible.

"I know Mele. I'll try to be better. I've always loved you so much," said Lilia with tears in her eyes.

Ioka approached and said, "Mele, let's change the compress and see if you can get some rest." All their emotions could use some calming.

Christmas Caroling Tour

This is an excerpt from the book Confidence: Reliance on the Spirit:

"Okay, settle down everyone. Remember, you're here to practice!" Lilia hollered at all the young people. The teenagers chattered to each other and sipped their cocoa with melting baby marshmallows. "Here are your music books. Men, before you ask, yes you do have to sing! If I see you moving your mouth with no sound coming out, I'm going to cue Mele and she's going to take this here ping pong paddle and whack you!" Lilia held up the offending instrument for all the men to see. She swung it and smacked it against her hand. Crack!

"That seems a little severe Lilia," Mele tittered with laughter at her goofy friend.

"How do we get these stupid guys to sing then? You tell me! " Lilia cried with candor. The young men stared at her and wondered where she was coming from.

"Men, would you please sing out?" Mele requested sweetly and smiled nicely at them.

"Sure!" They answered in unison. They all wanted to please Mele.

"Who knew you could get a bull into a bullpen with honey!" Lilia declared. All the teenagers whooped with laughter until they cried.

Homeless Angels

After rehearsal the next day, the four young people donned their old clothes and headed for Fisherman's Wharf.

"Men, I'll watch Lilia, and you watch our backs okay? Face away from us at the ongoing circumstances, and keep a sharp eye," Jim ordered seriously. He didn't want any nasty surprises.

"Yes boss," said Kimo in a no-nonsense manner.

"Ay, ay, chief," Bill replied soberly and saluted.

They carried four backpacks each. They looked like homeless people themselves carrying around all their loot. They met a homeless woman named Linda, who sat by the side of the sidewalk down by San Francisco Bay. Lilia sat down on the ground next to her, and Jim sat down next to Lilia. "Hi, my name is Lilia, what's yours?" Lilia asked as she looked into Linda's eyes, but the woman avoided her gaze.

"I'm Linda," she said and offered nothing more.

"How are you today Linda?" Lilia asked sincerely with heartfelt interest.

"I'm sad Lilia. The only friend I have to walk around with is lying drunk on the ground over there. He doesn't help take care of me when he's drunk," she complained.

"What kind of care do you need, Linda?" Lilia inquired in case there was something she could do.

"I fell down on the sidewalk and hurt my back and scraped up my knees," said Linda mournfully and showed Lilia her bleeding knees. Lilia reached inside of a backpack, and pulled out an antibacterial wipe. She cleaned the wound, put antibiotic ointment on it, and bandaged it for Linda.

"Does that feel better?" Lilia asked as she gently rubbed Linda's back with concern.

"Yes, thank you," Linda said and began to weep.

"Why are you crying Linda?" Lilia questioned her to uncover the underlying cause of her upset.

"Because, most people would never sit down and just start talking to me. They avoid me, as if I have a communicable disease. You've been very kind," blubbered Linda. "I could use a friend like you."

"Linda, do you go to church?" asked Lilia gently. She knew that her question delved into a sensitive subject.

"No, I used to go to church, but I haven't been to church in years, since I became homeless and started living in the street," Linda said painfully. Lilia handed Linda a tissue to wipe her nose and eyes, and gently rubbed her arm.

"Linda, Here is a route map for all the churches in the area, which take in homeless people overnight, and feed them. You see," she said as she pointed at the map, "there is a church only six blocks from here, which does Monday nights and today is Monday. Here is another church a few blocks from the Monday church, which does Tuesdays. You wouldn't have to sleep in the street if you could get yourself on this route, and you'd have something to eat too. Do you believe in God, Linda?" Lilia looked at Linda in a non-judgmental and empathetic manner.

Linda started to sob again, "I used to believe in God, but I haven't given him much thought lately."

Lilia replied with conviction. She said, "God loves you, Linda, and he sent me here today to help you. Everything in this backpack is yours. It contains everything from bandages to antibacterial wipes to food and water. We also put a nice leather-bound Bible in here for you so that you can be comforted Linda," Lilia said sympathetically."May we pray with you Linda?"

"Would you? That would be so nice," answered Linda with hopefulness.

Jim and Lilia each took one of Linda's hands and linked their own. Lilia prayed, "Father in Heaven, your child is grieving for you. She hasn't thought about you for some time, but she's ready to do more thinking about you. Dear Father, we ask you to fill her with your Holy Spirit, and by your power, produce in Linda the fruits of the Spirit: love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control. We thank you, Father."

Linda cried out, "I feel so much better! A load of guilt just lifted off my shoulders."

You don't have to walk alone, Linda. God walks with you. He'll be your constant companion if you let Him. Study His Word in the Bible. It will bring you great joy," Lilia said with conviction. Linda sobbed and hugged Lilia.

The two homeless men, who sat near Jim, Lilia, and Linda, listened to the whole conversation and changed forever in that instant.

(I'm happy to report that truth is stranger than fiction because this event actually happened to Don and I in northern California, and the woman's name was Linda.)

Haphazard Hayride

Apelehama drove the hay wagon filled with Lilia's friends. Kimo had secured Jan's wheelchair at the front of the wagon in between three heavy bales of hay. He sat on one of the bales and held Jan's shoulders. Jan reached for his face and kissed him tenderly in thanks. Jan is one sweet girl, thought Kimo.

Jim and Lilia had placed hay bales down the center of the wagon for them to lean on and loose hay all around them. Mele lied in Dennis' arms, Penny cuddled with Jeremy, Bill held Cindy close to him, and Lilia sat on Jim's lap, secure in his embrace.

"It's such a beautiful night tonight Jimmy. All that rain has cleared the air. Listen to the rush of all the water in the creek," Lilia said lightheartedly as she enjoyed the freshness of the evening immensely.

"Lilia, you've changed. What's happened to you?" Jim nudged her nose with his nose and teased her a bit.

"Jimmy, when I had knowledge that I was going to be shot, I realized that I can't live without you. My feelings for you deepened in that moment and so did my love. I felt so sad that I was going to be shot and maybe leave you. You're so good to me, thank you for everything," she said genuinely as she kissed Jim full on the lips and lingered there.

Jim gazed at Lilia in the moonlight with tenderness, "I've waited a long time to hear those words Lilia."

"I know you have and I appreciate your patience with me. I'm a woman deeply in love with a man, and the only man for me is you, my handsome Jimmy," Lilia held his face in her hands and offered him her love. Jim had waited three years for Lilia to turn into a woman. It had happened. He covered her mouth with his and kissed her with passion.

Apelehama drove the tractor and wagon through the meadow, and then turned to take the road over the rushing creek where the culvert allowed the water to roar down to the ocean.

Bill shoved Jim playfully as he yipped, "You're whipped!" Jim set Lilia aside on the soft hay.

"No more than you!" Jim yelled at his best friend and shoved Bill back in jest.

"You've lost all your free will!" Bill shoved Jim hard and they both laughed. Jim wobbled, lost his balance, and then fell off the wagon. Lilia looked on in horror as Jim's head hit the culvert, and he sank into the black rushing water.

Lilia shrieked with terror, "Jimmy!"

She jumped off the wagon and dove into the stream in front of where Jim had fallen in. The water rushed through the culvert filling it to the top. She couldn't see anything, and then an arm hit her, and she grabbed it tight. She swam under the water back through the culvert pulling on his arm and kicking as fast and hard as her muscled thighs would allow. Breathless, she surfaced and Bill reached for Jim and heaved him out of the water. Jim's lifeless form lied on the bank of the creek. Lilia hurriedly turned his head to the side to evacuate any water he had swallowed.

Lilia screamed with fear, "Jimmy!" Jim spewed the water out of his lungs. Lilia held his face tenderly, "Jimmy, are you all right?" He gazed up at her and felt confused. He didn't know what had happened. She informed him gently, "Jimmy you have a nasty gash on your head, Gramps, let's take Jimmy back to the ranch, and then you can continue your hayride without us."

Journey to Paradise

Lilia approached the end of her life on earth. She had no one remaining to watch her die. Her mother and father had passed on long ago, and her husband had died a few years earlier. Her breaths labored, but she felt no agony in her spirit. She didn't need to worry about her past anymore. She knew unconsciousness was approaching, but she didn't struggle to stay alert. She would relent to death when the time came.

Lilia knew she had made mistakes. She wished she could go back and fix the many wrongs she had committed that affected others' lives. She also wished that she could return to her beloved Kauai one more time before she died, but that was not to be. The doctors told her she might have a few months to live. Doctors always said things like that to give the patient hope. Lilia didn't have to worry about hope because she knew that God had built eternity into the heart of man by giving the man the desire to live forever.

Lilia knew she wasn't going to live forever, not on this earth. She hoped that she would close her eyes and go into a coma, so that when her breathing slowed, she didn't have to worry about the suddenness of life being over. That is the way it was with her father. He didn't suffer, but simply faded away. Lilia was definitely failing, but she thought to herself, "I'm just going to close my eyes and think about my life."

Lilia saw the beautiful palm trees, and heard the swishing of their branches in the gentle trade winds. She pictured her island with its lush tropical flowers, trees, and plants growing almost everywhere. She smelled the fragrant seedpods of the mokihana, the flower of Kauai. She imagined the mokihana strung into a lei necklace with some maile leaves, and felt it sitting gently on her skin. She envisioned the Fern Grotto, up the Wailua River, at the mouth of a lava cave. The ferns and philodendrons glistened in the sunshine after a rainfall. Lilia imagined and smelled the wild ginger and hibiscus.

Lilia revisited the place where the banana plants grew wild alongside the road to Poipu. She sat underneath the enormous majestic coconut palms at the Coco Palms Resort, palms that her grandfather had planted many years before. Lilia sat on the veranda of their family home in Wailua. She had loved living in Wailua's rural, down-to-earth atmosphere. She smelled the sugar cane fields burning after a harvest, sweet, tangy, and smoky in the wind.

After her death, her sister would throw her ashes into the ocean in Wailua Bay at Lilia's request, and then she would be home forever. Lilia was born in paradise, and she would live in Paradise again soon.

Mourning Doves

From Common Sense: Listening to the Spirit - Coming Out Soon.

Jim and Lilia unsaddled and unbridled all four horses, brushed them down, and released them into the paddock. Lilia leaned on the paddock fence, and gazed thoughtfully at the meadow behind the paddock. It looked golden in the setting sun and perfect like the Garden of Eden. Green leaves reflected gold and it was as if a halo shone over every plant. Two doves lighted on the fence opposite her.

She said, "Look Jim, two doves." The two doves coo-cooed and sang a sad song to each other.

"It's evening. Aren't they morning doves? Why are they here now?" Jim asked with interest.

She looked at him with meaning, "They're not called morning doves Jim, named after the earlier part of the day, but mourning doves, named after the emotion of death."

A moment passed while she stared into space. Jim watched her carefully and knew she had received special knowledge of some kind. Up until now, the day had been perfect, so he didn't ask her, and he didn't want to know.

"Pray for strength Jim, we don't have what it takes to get through life on our own. Remember what it says in John 15:5 ' . . . apart from me you can do nothing.'"

He understood that something portentous had happened. He let it go. He wasn't Lilia and he didn't have the desire to know of the future or anything other than right now. He tried to distract her with his affection and love, and she let him. She also understood that her knowing couldn't change anything, so she let him wrap her in his arms. They most certainly had their moments of passion, but this wasn't one of them. It was a time of contentment in perfect peace with each other and their surroundings. They listened to the birds sing their last song, and then to the chorus of crickets and frogs. It relaxed them both so much just leaning on each other that they didn't want to lose the moment, and they let it be.

Lilia sighed, and turned to kiss Jim softly. He said with quiet peace, "It's been a real nice day honey. I'd better go home. I love you." He kissed her so sweetly that Lilia heard the singing of angels. They surrounded the couple and poured out a literal chorus of melodic harmony. He ended the kiss and gazed at her carefully.

"Jim, do you hear the chorus of angels singing?" she peered up at him with sincerity and awe.

"No honey, I don't," he replied uncertainly.

"They're celebrating something.The music makes our music on earth sound like the banging of cans together. It is perfect bliss," she said as she hugged him.

He hugged her back, kissed her on the forehead, and then gently caressed her lips with his. He said, "I wish every day could be like today."

"I do too, my Jim." He held her hand extended out and said, "I guess I should go," even though he didn't want to leave.

"Good night Jim, I love you," she cooed. He turned and walked to his truck. He felt full of peace, love, and God's Light.

If She Can Ride the Horse, She Can Have Him

Jacob parked his truck, and greeted Paul. He looked on with fear at the size of the horse. The deal his good friend had made him was simple: if eleven-year-old Lilia could ride the horse, she could have him. King had belonged to Kate, who was fearful of the enormous horse, and didn't ride him. Until today, King had gone un-ridden for over five years.

Paul spied the tentative expression on Jacob's face. "Come on, Jacob, Lilia knows how to ride better than almost everyone we know. Give her a chance. I don't want to have to feed this hay-bag for another five years!"

"Are you sure you want to do this?" Jacob asked his daughter with concern.

Lilia replied with exasperation, "Yes! Come on, Dad, I'm not some puny kid. I'm a monster according to some of the boys in my class. King and I were meant to be together!" That was the comment that took Jacob down.

"Okay, Lilia, I give in," Jacob replied.

"Goody, let's get King ready!" Lilia squalled. Paul brought out the saddle. Jacob held King's halter to keep him quiet for the saddling, but King danced around uncontrollably when he smelled Jacob's fear. Lilia could tell too.

"Dad, let me hold him. King needs to get used to me." Lilia didn't give her dad a chance to respond. She calmly walked over to King, took the reins, and started to purr to him, "You magnificent beauty, you handsome sweet boy, you are going to be mine, and come to live with me." She took a carrot out of her back pocket and gave it to him. She remembered to keep her hand flat, so that King wouldn't bite her fingers inadvertently. King gazed at Lilia with his sensitive big brown eyes, and nuzzled her for more.

"You'll get more handsome after we've been out for a little ride." King forgot that Paul was saddling him, he was so mesmerized with Lilia. She patted him on the neck and soothed him with more cooing, and then gently scratched the neck area under the mane. Lilia remembered what her grandpa had said, that if people acted excited, animals did too. If a person remained calm, the animals responded in kind. She knew that her grandpa was always right.


"Well then, Paul, would you hold King while Lilia climbs on?" Jacob asked.

Paul didn't have a chance to answer. Lilia wailed, "If he's going to be my horse, I have to be able to get up on him myself!" Paul smirked. Jacob felt dusted. He wondered where Lilia had acquired her confidence with large animals.

Paul warned, "We'd better stand back and give them some space. We don't want to spook King."

Lilia poured sweet honey words from her mouth to the animal as she took the reins, held the horn, and reached her foot up to the high stirrup. King was rearing to go! He danced in quick circles in anticipation of the ride. Lilia hurriedly threw her right leg over the saddle and settled the balls of her feet in the stirrups before he lost her. King clenched the bit in his mouth, and started to gallop. Lilia pulled hard on the left rein to dislodge the bit from his teeth.

"Okay big boy, let's go for a run." Lilia didn't have to encourage King with her knees because he took off like a racehorse out of the starting gate. He extended his neck out in front of him and blasted forward. They circled the pasture once, twice, three times, settled into a canter, and then a rack. A rack is a gait smoother than a trot where the horse's front feet move as in a slow gallop while the back feet move as in a trot or pace. It was a good sign that the horse was skilled.

Lilia purred, "Good boy," and leaned down to rub his neck. She knew not to pull up on the reins too abruptly to stop him. Her grandpa had told her that some horses had "built-in hydraulic brakes" for roping cattle. Since Lilia didn't know what this horse would do, he had cautioned her, "Ease him up after your ride, nice and slow."

Lilia gently pulled on the reins. It took some distance for the enormous, long-legged horse to slow down. He whinnied with pleasure, snorted, and turned and glanced at Lilia as if to say, "Where's my carrot?" Lilia read his eyes, and pulled the carrot out of her pocket. It was in that very moment that the two became a team.

Jacob and Paul regarded the ride with wonderment and with mixed fear and envy. They wondered how children learned to be so brave.

Paul turned to Jacob and retorted, "Well, it looks like you better get another job to help pay for all that hay and oats that giant is going to eat! You only live about four miles from here. Why not let Lilia ride him home right now?"

"I know when my goose has been cooked. Where are the cranberries?" Jacob goaded Paul.

"You can have all the oats and hay that I have in the barn. I'll help you load it up on your pickup," Paul replied as he smiled gainfully.

"I need sweet potatoes too," Jacob teased his friend.

"You can have the saddle and the gear, along with the horse. What more do you want, payment on your monthly mortgage?" Paul derided with laughter.

Jacob laughed too and said, "Okay, okay, a deal is a deal."

He Gives & Takes Away: The Legacy of Resilience

The one thing that I pray for most of all is acceptance of God's will. I want to welcome the testing, and know that I won't always feel the pain of humanness, but transcend to a better place in the future. We have something to look forward to when we die. I care whether, or not I cause a change in my earthly journey, otherwise, why did I even come here? I think about everything. My mind is my nemesis and blessing. That's the way it is with a blessing from God. It's often too, why we love someone. We're attracted to a characteristic, which later we find to be a downfall.

Daisy Lou and Emily Lou traveled from Ireland to be a part of our animal family. They were only six weeks old when the kennel owner brought them under the front seat of the airplane to La Guardia Airport in New York. They rested for four days in New York, visited a vet for a health check-up, and then flew to Los Angeles when the weather was warm enough. Those two little West Highland White Terriers were just about the cutest things to come into our household, aside from our beautiful Missy, whom we lost after eleven and a half years.

Of the two Westies, Emily was clearly the leader of the pack, and her sister Daisy was benevolent enough to let that happen. Daisy was gracious of spirit from the day we first met her. She always let Emily have her way, even when she knew Emily was wrong.

Emily loved to float with Don on the floater in the pool. She loved to swim, which is something our vet had assured us these two dogs would never want to do, there in the name "terrier," of the earth. Once Emily received permission to go into the pool by the removal of her collar, there was no stopping her. She'd dive in repeatedly, swim the length of the pool, climb out, and dive in again. She absolutely loved the water. She could even climb up on the floater in the pool without help!

Daisy didn't like the water at all, but Emily taught her to like it. If Emily floated, Daisy considered floating too. It wasn't second nature to Daisy as it was with Emily. The sound of sirens was something that drove Emily to distraction. She'd launch a high, screaming howl that was enough to break your eardrums! We never witnessed such an event with Daisy while Emily was alive. Sadly, Emily died at the age of two and a half years. She had a rare kidney disease, which took her down. Her last good day with us was Father's Day 2002, and she spent it floating with Don in the swimming pool. She died one week later.

After Emily died, Daisy remained extremely sad, and it became evident if we didn't find another Westie quickly that we risked losing her also. We rescued a male Westie with a heart defect, MacGregor. He took to us right away and us to him. He had surgery on his heart one year after we adopted him, and is currently as healthy as he can be. Daisy never liked floating, but now floating with Don is her favorite activity, and she is teaching MacGregor to enjoy it too. Daisy never liked standing on the step in the pool, but loves to stand there now, and has taught MacGregor to do the same. Daisy never howled like a siren, but now launches a high-pitched howl every time she hears a siren. While Emily was alive, she didn't engage in any of these behaviors. Emily taught her, and so Emily's legacy still lives on through Daisy, and now through MacGregor. It's the same way with people and families. We may not realize it at the time, but our families and others influence us. 

God and His Word also influence us. Nothing gives me more peace than to know that God loves me despite all my flaws. God had not tested me severely for a while until a year ago, when I thought Don might die. I know I might not be able to say this again in the future, but when I thought I was going to lose my husband, I realized that I loved God more. That's something for which I had been praying for many years. I had to thank God for the testing. It gave me renewed confidence in my faith. 

My father is gone. He died in 2004, and yet part of him lives on in me, the "never give up" part. He taught me in life, and he taught me through his death. I'm simply a composite of all the people I admired. God is at the center of who I am. I have dwelt with Him and now he dwells in me. That is one more reason to spend time in His Word: to gain resilience.

Dog Training Man: Arrow the Pharaoh Service Dog

I first noticed the Pharaoh service dog in the red vest as he and his owner walked through the airport in Atlanta. He was a magnificent creature. He had a long torso, a lean conformation, and a sleek head. He looked a lot like the dogs pictured at the pyramids in Egypt. In fact, they were his ancestors.

I didn't expect to ever see the man and his beautiful dog again. My husband and I boarded the airplane to Los Angeles. As the plane roared down the runway for takeoff, my husband said, "Did you notice the dog under the seat next to you?"

There he was, the lithe, royal-looking Pharaoh dog. He rested under his owner's legs and spread out under the legs of the man in the center seat as well. The man mentioned to me that Arrow was new at flying.

I petted the exquisite dog's head. Arrow became nervous and started to shake due to the airplane floor vibrations in takeoff. He scooted over to my side of the aisle and leaned up against my legs. The dog felt comforted when I slowly stroked his back and cooed to him that everything would be all right. Eventually, he stopped shaking and the owner encouraged Arrow to climb back under his legs, Arrow's assigned resting place.

My curiosity was piqued, and so I asked the owner, "What function does Arrow perform for you?"

"He senses when I'm about to have a seizure," he replied.

"What does he do when that happens?" I inquired.

"He goes crazy and jumps all over me, which is to remind me to take my medicine," the owner smiled.

"That's remarkable," I replied with astonishment. "How does he know? Does your scent change?"

"Some doctors have told me that, and some have said that it's because of the increased activity in my brain waves," he explained. Now, all the people surrounding us on the plane listened to the conversation, too.

"That's very interesting," I replied with wonderment. I giggled and said, "I have a male Westie at home who goes berserk when I walk or talk in my sleep. I guess he's a service dog, too. My female Westie could not care less. How do you train your dog or find the right animal?"

"They test the dogs for certain characteristics and awareness. I train the dog myself, or I should say, he trains me, and then we can travel anywhere together." We chuckled together. The owner continued, "I was in Las Vegas a few weeks ago. Arrow and I retired to our room and turned in for the night. In the middle of the night, he barked crazily and jumped all over me. People talked loudly in the hallway outside our room. I thought perhaps that they had set him off, and so I turned over and went back to sleep. An hour later, I woke up on the floor and all the bedding had been torn off the bed. Arrow laid on the bed with his legs crossed and stared down at me with superiority. He threw me his smug 'I told you so' look."

I laughed at Arrow's sense of humor and attitude. "I guess it pays to listen to your service dog," I smiled in return at the man.

We returned home to Los Angeles, and finally crawled into bed around two o'clock in the morning. I awoke to the furious barking by my male Westie, MacGregor, and realized that I was sleeping on the rug in the hallway. Every time that I venture out on my nocturnal meanderings, MacGregor is the catalyst to wake me. I understood that God had given me a service dog, too, to help protect me, and that knowledge gave me peace. "Gregs, thank you for your alert demeanor and caring heart. You're a good little service dog," I cooed to him as I cuddled and petted him profusely.

Sometimes we think that we choose the animal, and sometimes we think that the animal chooses us. Maybe the truth is that God pairs us together because of our natures. In other words, he created the person and dog to have an affinity for each other. It's just another way that God looks out for his children. If in that small way, the Lord protects his sheep, how many more ways do you think there are of which we are completely unaware?

How to Survive a Family Reunion - Day Three

By the fifth day of our visit to Minnesota, I felt exhausted. We stayed in the guest apartment in the complex where my youngest sister lives. The apartment was beautiful and spacious, and well equipped, except for one thing, the bed. It was a double bed, so old that to keep from sliding to the middle, I would have to tuck my nightgown under the mattress on my side! Since Don and I constantly bumped into each other and woke the other up, I moved to the sofa. The sofa was quite comfortable except that my frame was too tall to straighten my legs. For five nights, I only accumulated around twelve hours of sleep. Every morning my sister and her husband would ask me how I slept, but Don answered for me each time, “One of us slept very well.”

On the fifth morning, my no-nonsense sister, who had been a captain in the Air Force, announced that we were going to go bicycling down by the river in St. Paul. They had a whole garage full of bicycles, so they loaded them into my sister’s pickup truck, and off, we went. The parks by the river couldn’t have been more beautiful. They were so tropical and lush that they reminded us of Hawaii.

My sister pulled a bike off the truck, asked how much I weighed, and then adjusted it for my weight. She adjusted the seat, which had to go low because my left hip locked tight from the horseback riding the day before, oh the pleasures of growing older. I could barely get my leg over the bicycle even with her help, and I had no idea how to operate such a sophisticated riding device. Several levers on the right side controlled the front tire, and the same devices existed on the left side to control the back tire, but in reverse. I felt some trepidation since it had been twenty years, since I had ridden a bicycle. Don, sixteen and one-half years my senior, felt even more apprehensive. We voiced our concerns, and my “of course you can do it” sister replied, “There’s nothing to it. You’ll get the hang of it.”

Great, I thought, as I looked at the foot-holder, and wondered how I would ever get my fat-toed casual shoes into it. Well, it was a perfectly beautiful and temperate day, perfect for bike riding, and my sister had said that the ride was only two and a half miles. My twelve-year-old nephew led the way, followed by my sister, then me, Don, and my brother-in-law. I felt a little shaky at first, but soon found that I enjoyed the ride immensely. The main problem I had seemed to be the hills and turns. Other than that, it was a snap! I couldn’t keep the gears straight in my head from the front tire to the back tire, and ended up walking up the first hill with Don right behind me. Going down the hills was exciting and fast, unless, of course, it included a turn.

We traveled along between eight and fifteen-miles-an-hour. After fifteen minutes, I was soaked with sweat, and suggested that we should stop and take a drink of water. Don looked as if he was about to expire. It didn’t take a mathematical genius to figure out that the ride was longer than two and a half miles! I began to worry, since my sister once left two men behind in winter survival training when they couldn’t carry sixty-five pound backpacks and walk on snow shoes through four-foot snow!

After a half hour, we reached the end of the trail and reversed our direction to return by a different route. It took us on a wood-slatted path, with no railing, through a swamp with water on both sides. It terrified me. My sister screeched her breaks and stopped dead still in front of me. I banged into the back of her bike, and thought I was going to end up in the water. I couldn’t see what the problem was with the high marsh grasses. Around a bend came a mom and dad pushing a baby stroller. I prayed that we’d get out of the swamp, and stay out of the swamp without any more hair-raising encounters.

The next path included giant bushes of “itch weed” on either side of a mud path, which had been under water until recently. It was slippery and I felt extremely unstable. The sweat poured into my ears and down my neck and face and completely soaked my clothing. I could imagine what my bare skin would look like covered with welts! I focused straight ahead, and determined to get through the messy trail without falling.

Many people biked that day. We had to stay in single file to make enough space for oncoming bikers on the trail. An hour had passed when we took one more water break. Don positioned his bike against a tree, and sat down exhausted in the long grass. I gazed at my sister with concern as she quipped with resolve, “It’s only one more mile.” I didn’t know if I should believe her or not!

Don mounted his bike once again, and he followed my sister this time. I followed him and my brother-in-law took up the rear. My brother-in-law warned, “Tap the breaks on this hill so that you don’t get too much speed. There’s a sharp bend at the bottom.” Don did just what he had said and successfully made the turn. I did the same thing, but when I reached the bottom near the bend, two oncoming bikers appeared out of nowhere riding two abreast. I tried to turn more sharply, but wasn’t skilled enough to make a sharp turn without falling off the bike. I certainly didn’t want to hit anyone. The woman screamed with fright as I came so close to her that I nicked her bike handle. I lost my balance, and now had two choices, a bed of large limestone rocks on one side of the path, or bushy itch weed on the other side of the path. My heart stopped for a moment. I imagined my face all broken and bloody lying on top of the rocks. I pictured what might be behind the bushes of itch weed, and didn’t know if it was water or not. My heart raced with panic, and then the muscle memory righted me, or, more likely, the hand of God reached down and steadied me.

My sister, her son, and Don were now a quarter of a mile ahead of us. I knew that my military sister wouldn’t stop. I caught my breath, and directed myself to peddle as fast as I could, which I did until I caught back up with them, and then raced past all three of them to the truck. By the time I climbed off the bike, I was shaking so badly that I couldn’t steady my hands. Dynamic bike riding is a lot different from a stationary recumbent bike like the one I ride for an hour every day at home! I thanked God for not allowing me to kill the woman on the trail, or kill myself. The sweat poured down my arms and legs, and then the sky opened up with thunderstorms.

Don and I climbed into our car, and headed back to the guest apartment. He said he had a report to finish, and so I made myself a white wine spritzer, put on my nightgown, and congratulated myself that I had survived the family reunion. “Here’s to family,” I said as I raised my glass, and then gulped it down, and laid down for a well-needed nap.

How to Survive a Family Reunion - Day Two

On the second day of our family reunion, we drove to the heart of Wisconsin to continue our gathering at my oldest brother’s country home, replete with four horses: one good riding horse, one untamed Arabian, and two Amish carriage horses. After eating from a spread of goodies, my brother suggested that we all go for a carriage ride. He had two hookups to the hundred-year-old carriage, one for two horses, and one for one horse. The hookup for the two horses was broken, so the men dragged it back into the garage, and worked on the one-horse hookup. Since the second horse wasn’t pulling the carriage, we decided to saddle the horse, and ride next to the carriage. I asked my sister with alacrity, “Who’s going to ride first?”

She cried enthusiastically, “You are!” I boarded the stocky and un-ridden carriage horse with aplomb. I’ve ridden many horses in my time. It takes a persistently ornery animal to dislodge me from its back. My husband watched with concern as the horse began to crowfoot. “T-s-s-s-s-s-t!” I hissed at the horse, a sound known to distract an animal from their current mindset. She settled down. We tried a canter next. The crowfooting increased with the horse’s dissatisfaction at the separation from her partner. I knew what was next, bucking, and so I slowed her down to a rack, something that carriage horses understand. Then, we trotted and I posted so as not to upset the feisty creature. My husband told me that I really looked good on the horse, and asked us to stop for a picture, and so we did.

A young neighborhood girl who studied horsemanship, but had never actually ridden a horse yet, asked if she could ride on the horse behind me. My sister and brother assured me that it was fine, and so they hoisted the young girl up behind the saddle and showed her where to hold on. We headed down the driveway, and the horse protested, since it put such a distance in between her and her partner. “T-s-s-s-s-s-t!” I hissed at the horse, and ordered her to settle down. The horse listened, but tried to canter without permission. I reined her in and we continued at a nice rack out through the pasture, where she wanted to run and kick up her heels. I had great concerns for the young girl seated behind me. I didn’t want the horse to launch her like a rocket, and so I directed the carriage horse into the soft dirt at the side of the pasture to slow her mounting angst. We circled the pasture successfully, a large expanse of seventeen acres, and headed back to the garage where her partner was harnessed to the old carriage.

My brother decided to take a test run with the carriage before offering rides to others. The young girl and I planned to walk our horse along beside the other carriage horse to reassure the dismayed creature. I knew how a team hates separation from each other. I’ve witnessed it before. My oldest brother started out slowly, but the horse took over, and trotted. He tried desperately to whoa her, but she broke into a wild canter, and then a gallop as she hauled my brother down the driveway at a breakneck speed! I halted my steed, and said a silent prayer for my brother and the horse’s safety. They screamed out the end of the driveway, and the horse reeled onto the active highway, where, thankfully, there was no traffic. Amazingly, the carriage didn’t overturn. As fast as that happened, the horse took a sharp right down into the ditch towards the pasture, and leaped over the fence back into the pasture leaving my brother stuck on the other side in the carriage!

My youngest sister tore out to the location through the long grass. She checked the horse for soundness, and then un-harnessed the horrified animal. The horse ran lickety-split back to the fence to her partner where we stood waiting. My other sister removed the young girl from my horse, and the creature had a hissy fit, so I cantered her around the yard until she settled down. I dismounted her, and asked my two equestrian sisters who wanted to ride her next. My other sister took a spin around the drive and dismounted. My youngest sister did the same and quickly dismounted. I asked, “Aren’t you going riding?”

They gave each other a frowned look, and then turned to me and declared with certainty, “No!”

I thought that was quite curious, “Was I the Ginny pig?” You never know what is going to happen at a family reunion.

How to Survive a Family Reunion - Day One

We have just returned from the internet-less interior of northern Minnesota where all my brothers and sisters, and their families, met for a family reunion. My second brother even returned from China, where he lives and teaches full time. I so enjoyed all the foods that we ate when we were kids. I don’t generally eat these foods anymore, but I splurged over July 4th weekend. Tuna casserole, pasta salad, Jello salad, hamburgers, hotdogs, hot barbequed beans, cupcakes, and more all found their way onto my plate. It’s not the beginning of the year, but I’m going to have to make a resolution to lose weight! It was worth it. How can anyone attend a family reunion, and not enjoy the fare offered?

My third brother has such a charismatic personality that everyone is attracted to him. He is the center of his farming neighborhood’s social life. He has an event every Friday evening in his garage, and anyone can attend. The neighbors take turns providing the meal for the evening, and often call ahead of time to reserve their turn. Our family reunion kicked into a full swing party. People dropped in from nowhere to see what was going on. They knew that they are always invited. We met many of my brother’s friends. To borrow my brother’s line, we would say, “What a hoot!”

An hour passed when a long-bearded and shirtless friend of my brother’s drove up on a tractor pulling a hay wagon. There was no hay on it, but benches that faced inward and wrapped around the outside of the hay wagon. The friend and driver hollered, “Climb aboard!” We didn’t hesitate, but piled onto the hay-less hay wagon with enthusiasm. All the seats filled up with the merry crowd, and we took off. I initiated the competition for animal sounds. Every time we saw an animal, I mimicked the sound the animal would make, and the others joined me as we mooed, neighed, and b-a-a-d. The animals gazed at us and then at each other, and wondered about the crazy crew. The nieces and nephews didn’t know that the adults could be so silly because in the past, they had been much more decorous.

Our driver took us on a tour of an unknown farmer’s circular drive. We all gazed at each other with surprise and embarrassment, and felt like unwanted party crashers. To break the tension, we waved at the unfamiliar family barbecuing in the yard! We continued out their driveway and around the quarter section of land on a gravel dirt road. When we had traveled to the far side of the quarter section, the driver pulled up next to a country cemetery, and stopped the tractor. The driver said, “Get off the wagon, this is the second sight you’re going to see today.” We thought that he was kidding, and so no one moved, but laughed at his humor. He ordered seriously, “Get off the wagon!”

I said to my husband, “He’s not kidding, we’d better get off the wagon.” All the other revelers followed suit. The driver took us on a tour of all the family members that he had buried in this cemetery, and we had our pictures taken with the gravestones! This was indeed the strangest hayride we had experienced. After the unusual photo opportunity, we reloaded the wagon, and headed home, but not without another detour through a farmer’s yard! We waved at a young boy and his dog playing in the yard, and he waved back, as if this was an everyday occurrence to have strangers tour your front yard! The driver commenced to drive us to my brother’s place where we regaled our tale with those that didn’t take the ride, and explained the oddity of such an adventure. That was the highlight of the first day.

I Need Your Input

I'm writing a new non-fiction book, which covers many topics that cause a person to feel happy and well. I'd like to know: What do you believe gives a person sex appeal?

BookExpo America, New York City

Don and I are off to New York for BookExpo America at the Jacob Javit's Center. I'll be in the Strategic Book Group booth, #4577, on Thursday, May 27th from 1:00 to 5:00 P.M. Stop by if you're in the neighborhood!

When You Answer the Call of Music

When I was a little girl with a square, red-cheeked face, and chubby fingers, about the age of three, I started to tinker on our upright piano, and tried with my little brain to make a melody. Nana, my music teacher grandmother, said that it was time to teach me how to play the piano. It didn't matter that my fingers were short and fat, the desire grew in my heart, and so we began.

The music filled my heart and soul, even at a young age. I used to sing to the horses, cows, and bulls on our farm, sometimes standing right next to their giant pillars of legs. Father once found me singing to our two thousand pound bull in his bullpen! The animals seemed to have a sense of my vulnerability and innocence, and didn't ever attempt to hurt me. I always felt that I knew what they were thinking.

As I grew up, I never lost my love for music. Indeed, the piano, accordion, organ, and guitar were my favorite instruments. My first singing solo was at the age of nine for the spring concert in elementary school. My interest burgeoned after that, and father took me to all the Broadway musicals that came to St. Paul and Minneapolis. I remember my brothers hollering to our parents, "Mom, Dad, make her stop!" I played the piano in our living room for hours on end, and they didn't appreciate that it interrupted their evening TV entertainment. After that, my dad bought me a piano for my bedroom. Every moment that I didn't do chores, homework, or make dinner, I spent at the piano.

When I was thirteen years old, I began voice lessons with one of the most renowned voice teachers of all time, Madame Mady Metzger-Ziegler, famous for her hay days at the Berlin Opera, the Deutsche Staatsoper. She taught me well and hard, and stretched my voice to the full breadth of a coloratura soprano: four octaves. She sent me out for auditions for various community events and productions, which led to my first leading role in an opera at the age of fifteen, and the opportunity to record with the Boston Pops at the age of sixteen.

Through my life, I performed at various amateur and professional venues, and then I stopped. I still don't know for certain why I stopped. A few years ago, I rediscovered music at our very large church and became part of the choir, with occasional special roles. That led to the beginning of my own music ministry, a mini-choir of twenty-two people who sang mostly gospel music. After that, I started a praise and worship band, and began to tour the area. It expended an enormous amount of energy: the practices, the setup and breakdown of equipment, the performances, and I lost fifteen more pounds.

I wrote music all hours of the day and night, built a recording studio, and recorded the music. Lyrics poured out of me in a flood of inspiration, and then "The Spirit Series" of books, which went international at the onset. The time spent writing and publishing the books overwhelmed me, and so I discontinued my music ministry. My husband, Don, suggested on a beach in Hawaii, "Why don't you try writing some fiction?" I thought, "Why not?" I retreated to our room upstairs and retrieved my notebook and "The Faith Series" of Christian fiction began. I've now finished the fifth and last book in this series, and it, too, is spreading around the world.

Up until about three months ago, my church attendance started to wane with travel, problems with insomnia, and my workload, all bad excuses for not attending church regularly. At one point, I didn't attend church three weeks in a row. That's when it happened: the Holy Spirit convicted me big time for not using the gift of music that God had given me at a very young age. I wasn't using it to worship Him, which is the reason God gave me the gift in the first place. I understood what God wanted and returned to church to sing out in the congregation in a full emotional voice of praise. I concocted harmonies and descants for worship and praise songs and sang out my love for God with my hands in the air. It made me feel so much better.

Groups of people chose to sit near us, and people said to me, "I hope you're going to sing today." This morning, my heart felt overwhelmed with glorious thanks to the Lord for being so supernatural that the Creator of the universe could come down to earth in the form of a little baby. The more I sang to His praise, the more I felt like continuing. When God is gracious enough to give us a gift, it is not for a defined period of our own determination, but for a lifetime. God never calls us and then takes back the call. From this moment on, I will sing to the praises of the Lord, until I sound like a croaking frog. To God, it will sound like an angel singing in perfect angelic harmony, such are the ways of the Lord.

French Country Roast Chicken with Au Jus

I was twelve years old when I discovered the creativity of cooking. My first experiment was the infamous blueberry pie with a pinch of coffee grounds that won a blue ribbon at the county fair. My 4-H friends are still talking about it. The same day, I decided to endeavor to make my very first homemade chicken potpie. I used all fresh ingredients harvested from our farm, including the chicken. I wrote about this experience in the first book of the young adult series, “Innocence: Simplicity of Spirit.”

Characterized by inventiveness, my cooking is not precise. I know what I like, and so I try to imagine how the flavors will react when combined. Ten years ago, I tested a chicken roast, which has become a favorite to everyone that I’ve served. I’d like to share that with you today.

You can vary this recipe based on the number you plan to serve. Add a little more cooking time for more ingredients. Eight chicken breasts are the most that I have roasted at one time, and that roast took one hour and ten minutes.

In a Teflon roasting pan, place three skinless, boneless chicken breasts. Surround them with baby carrots, white corn cut from the cob, and small Dutch potatoes. Season the entire dish with parsley, sage, rosemary, and thyme. Pinch the spices in your fingers as you dispense them onto your creation. Don’t be spare with your spices, but don’t overwhelm the roast either. Onto the chicken breasts, dash a reasonable amount of dark Worcestershire sauce. Too much will skew the flavor. You’ll know you’ve added enough Worcestershire when the breast appears basted with it. Glop three generous teaspoons or dollops of margarine or butter on each breast. Cover with at least five cups of chopped mushrooms. Choose your mushrooms for tenderness, not chewiness. Cover the entire dish with at least four cups of freshly shredded parmesan cheese. Leave the baking pan uncovered. Pop it into the oven at 375 degrees for 45 minutes.

The smell of the spices and Worcestershire simmering is scintillating. The scent will waft through your kitchen and make the mouths of your family and friends water with anticipation. Use a large sturdy spatula to cut through the parmesan and mushrooms around each chicken breast, and then lift the chicken breast out of the pan and onto the plate. Add carrots, corn, and potatoes to each plate, and drizzle the au jus over everything. Serve the roast with freshly baked rosemary bread for a satisfied crew.

My husband loves this dish. He would rather eat at home than go out to a restaurant, and sometimes I would, too! Since, we both work from home, occasionally the preparation of three meals a day in the kitchen seems like a lot. This recipe is one of the most tantalizing and easiest recipes in my repertoire, and one I don’t mind making. I hope that you enjoy it!

End the Fear of Wasted Love

God places love in our hearts when we become a child of God. The Holy Spirit gives us the ability to love. If God is love, therefore, so am I, when I become a child of God. We know that God's love is eternal. Is our love eternal, too?

A man met a woman and fell passionately in love with her. His love was an undying feeling of affection characterized by strength, depth, sincerity, tenderness, devotion, loyalty, and passion. She accepted his love willingly and gloried in it. She thought that it would last forever, that is just how secure it felt to her, and so she lavished love on him in return. He accepted her love and they grew in love and commitment together. The years passed and one of them strayed from the path of commitment. The marriage didn't feel exciting anymore, and so the eyes wandered. Without realizing that it was even happening, one of them dissipated the commitment with an affair.

The spouse had felt the loss of the other person's affection and devotion, and therefore, developed anxiety about the relationship. The anxiety sought relief in the form of another love. The couple divorced and wondered how it ever happened to them. Where did the love go that each of them offered and accepted from each other?

We know that love is a choice and an action, not just a feeling. A person may not feel the same passion for the other as before because he or she chose not to exhibit the affection anymore, but the couple did feel the love at one time. The special love turned to bitterness when it remembered the way it used to be, but what happened to the love that they showed to each other? Did it disappear or remain in the memory of the person that accepted it?

A parent showered love upon a child. The child remembered and developed a loving nature. The child grew up into an adult and the parent died. The child still remembered the parent's love, and it became part of who the child would always be. Does an alienated spouse remember the love, too?

I believe that a person's memory holds the love and cherishes it even after the other person no longer offers it. Like the parent and child, that love becomes a part of whom that person will always be. It helps to explain why, even after decades, that former lovers continue to feel animosity for each other and are not comfortable talking to each other. The love that existed in the past still lives on in their hearts and memory, and has become a part of whom they are. It's hard not to feel resentment at its discontinuance. There may not be a logical reason for the resentment, but maybe that IS the reason because LOVE IS ETERNAL.

God is love, and therefore, so am I. I think that my love and the love I've received must be eternal, too.