On today's blog I feature up and coming young author, Devin Berglund. Devin calls herself a writer, dreamer, wanderer and all-time enjoyer of life. She loves crafting stories that change lives. Her short story, Hope For Another Day, releases on Halloween. One autumn morning, I was walking to my college class. Leaves floated around the blue sky and rustled on the sidewalk. It was the perfect day. Once I got to class, I sat down next to my friend. Class hadn't started yet, but my cell phone vibrated in my pocket. I looked at the name - Dad. "Hey Daddy!" "Hi. Devin." "What's up?" "Are you sitting down." I looked around at my friends in class, then got up and walked into the hallway to sit at a bench. I remember the sunlight shining through the window. It was the perfect day, but not for this kind of conversation. "Uh... Yeah? I am now. What's wrong?" A pause came from my dad's side. I remember turning through the book of all the faces I knew and loved dearly. "Grandpa Dennis passed away, this morning." I don't think I said anything other than breaking into tears. I couldn't stop crying. That week was one of my toughest in my college career. My family went down to Crystal, North Dakota. I had to finish out the week of classes, before I could join them. It's been six years, since my Grandpa went to be with the Lord. It was tough and it took a long time to heal for all of our family. And we still haven't completely gotten over the loss. One of my favorite Bible verses that got me through many tough experiences was Jeremiah 29:11-14 When we go through troubles, God will pick us up again and set us on our feet again. But after that is when the work begins. We have to strive to live good and happy lives filled with HOPE. In my Urban Fantasy short story, Hope For Another Day, I wrote about a character named Silvia. She is a young woman who lost her husband and also a young infant. In my writing, I want to share with the world that there is always something great to hope for. A beautiful sunset in every day. After losing her husband to a car accident, Silvia yearns for the normal life she once had and the love she lost. One night, while walking through the forest, her life is turned upside down when she discovers a mysterious secret in the forest.
This is a twist on the fairytales we were told while we were young. It’s a story about fate, loss, and giving life a second chance. Just as my Grandpa's life was cut so short, we can't take life or the days we are given for granted. We should push onward without worry and fear. We should push onward with hope in our hearts.
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Be still. The words had not been shouted to the furious wind or issued to the sky, but spoken as though directly to my heart. This line from the book Iscariot by Tosca Lee keeps repeating in my heart like a track on a scratched CD. Have you ever been caught in a storm? Maybe not with actual raindrops falling from the sky, but with life blowing past you so fast you can feel it? With concerns and worries like thunder pounding through your heart and flashes of fear or sorrow like lightening sparking when you least expect or want them? When the disciples were caught in a squall they felt helpless, hopeless. Jesus lay asleep while their boat pitched and flooded in the dark, turbulent sea. But Jesus awoke and with composure said, “Be still.” The waves calmed and the clouds parted. What if He wasn’t just telling the waters and the heavens to chill? What if Jesus was telling the disciples, and in turn, us, to relax and find peace in Him? I just went through a personal stormy season. Someone I loved died. And although I know he is now at peace and in heaven, it was an exhausting, disorienting and sorrowful journey. I had sleepless nights and anxious moments and heartbreaking sobs. Yet, as my family and I returned home from a week of ICU and Hospice and Visitation and Funeral, Jesus kept telling me, “Be still.” I went on an early morning run hoping to clear some of the cobwebs crowding my brain. But as I turned a corner, I saw I wasn’t the only one in the neighborhood up before dawn. A mama fox with her two babies sat in the grass, enjoying daybreak and each other’s company. I stopped mid-step, pausing my run, surprised by their presence, their grace. We watched each other as the grayness of morning accepted the golden mist of an awakening sun. Be still. Rushing out the house to get one of my four kiddos to their soccer practice, clicking off a checklist out loud, “Do you have your cleats? Water bottle? Shin guards?” a perfume halted my mouth and my feet. Sweet and ethereal I stopped and inhaled. The vase of lilies on the counter was sending off its fragrance as a reminder of all that is pure and honest and pretty. It was the opposite of hurrying, the antithesis of juggling and remembering. It was God’s creation—perfect exactly how it was made. Be still. Clearing dishes off our porch on a steamy summer evening, the wind rattled through the branches in the woods behind our house. The predicted downpour crashed against the roof and leaked through the screens, and yet, at the same time sun gleamed on the wet leaves. How was this possible? I put down my stack of plates and forks and dashed out the front door, letting the rain pelt against my bare arms while the sun shone on my face. I searched the sky for a rainbow, turning in circles in our front yard. I never caught glimpse of the arch of colors I knew must be somewhere close, but the miracle of simultaneous rain and sun was enough to get me to cease my business and indulge my senses. Be still.
There is awe in tranquility, and yet we so often flounder, letting life’s concerns and to do’s swirl around us, sometimes developing into uncontrollable storms. Sometimes we hide from the thunder, cover our eyes from the lightening, or just put our wipers on full blast and try to plow through the rain. How beautiful that Jesus is always there, no matter what, no matter where, no matter how, reminding us to, “Be still.” How about you? How is God telling you to be still? Tingling all over with the announcement of the second book in my Status Updates series, It's Over, releasing April 19! HOW CAN YOU MOVE ON WHEN IT'S OVER?
When four college roommates lose pieces of their lives, the pain isolates and the tension rises. Emotions are hard to hide and even harder to tackle. How can the girls move forward, when there is so much pain in letting go? Together, Claire, Kat, Palmer and Hannah learn to lean on God and each other, and through it all they learn loss is a part of life. "In It's Over, Laura L. Smith confirms the truth we've been told that we are never alone in the midst of heartache and struggle. In fact, she takes us to a place where we not only get to see, but feel deeply the truth of the fact that every single one of us has a story. Every single one of has experienced pain. But more importantly, that every single one of us has great hope. Laura L. Smith's writing strikes a deep chord in my heart. It makes sense. It's real--and in my opinion, that transparency makes all the difference." ~Holly Starr, Christian recording artist "Laura Smith speaks for the broken. With a voice that’s warm and true, Laura gives words to those rendered speechless by issues that high school and college girls should never have to deal with—but so many of them do. In writing that’s raw, relevant, and real, Smith goes where few authors dare to go: straight into the heart of today’s young woman." ~Amy Parker, bestselling author of Courageous Teens "YA author, Laura L. Smith crafts another story that will appeal to all girls, because no one is untouched by heartache in all its forms. The grace Smith extends the four girls in It's Over will touch readers in deep ways, as they follow these characters through some of the worst parts of life. Best of all, they'll cheer when the girls lean on one another and find ways to be thankful in everything. This is a fantastic read, one that will resonate with teens, college girls and their mothers." ~Laura Kurk, author of Glass Girl I have recently staked out a spot in our house, complete with windows and bookshelves, to be my very own writing nook. I L-O-V-E it! I’ve placed a handful of photos of my favorite places and people on the corner of my desk. I painted the walls a lovely smoky, pale lilac and one square with white board paint, so I can dry erase writing ideas at will. I’ve set my cool pottery coaster in place, so my coffee cup always has a home. But in order to claim this space, I had to clean. I had to dig through existing cupboards and go through baskets and file organizers in my previous writing space, a.k.a. the corner of our living room. I found everything from paper clips to business cards of people I don’t remember meeting, from an array of neon sticky notes and magazine images to old plaques and certificates. It was simple to put binder clips in the little organizer on my desk and to recycle hand scribbled notes for articles, blogs and books I’ve already written. But there was this stack of awards from my past that perplexed me. How long had I kept them? Better yet, why? As I lugged the load of metal and wood and paper to the garbage can, I laughed. There was something extremely freeing about no longer being tied by measurements of how many dollars of clothes I sold (my short career as a manager at the Limited) or how many square feet I’d leased (my longer career in shopping mall development). There was a time when those stats, and the status that went with them, were extremely important to me. But those things are irrelevant now, so I pitched them with a hearty heave. And the next day, I stumbled across this passage: The very credentials these people are waving around as something special, I’m tearing up and throwing out with the trash—along with everything else I used to take credit for. And why? Because of Christ. Yes, all the things I once thought were so important are gone from my life. Compared to the high privilege of knowing Christ Jesus as my Master, firsthand, everything I once thought I had going for me is insignificant—dog dung. I’ve dumped it all in the trash so that I could embrace Christ and be embraced by him. ~Philippians 3:7-9 MSG And yes, I giggled at the mention of dog dung in the Bible, then marveled, how liberating it felt to let go of past credentials. But my trip to the garbage was easy. I’m no longer trying to sell the most wool coats or trying to convince J. Crew to come into all of the malls I lease. I’m happy I can let go of the past, but it’s a piece of cake, since those things aren’t relevant to me anymore. What’s harder is the here and now.
I have two new novels releasing next month. Will I be able to consider my rank on Amazon insignificant? Will I be able to let less than glowing reviews (everybody gets some) slide off my back? I hope so. I’m praying I won’t get tied up in those numbers or any other worldly measures, for that matter. But it isn’t always easy. Today, I’m mentally throwing away earthly labels claiming how good I was or wasn’t. And I’m praying I can keep carrying more bags of garbage out to the curb. How about you? What’s the craziest old trophy you have sitting around? I heard author, Bill Myers, speak at a Christian writer's conference in California. His voice mesmerized me. His message captivated me. At the end of the conference I purchased his book, Eli, for my husband and had Bill sign it for him, secretly knowing I would also benefit from this "gift". I let it sit on my hubby's shelf with his other "to be read" books. I plowed through my pile of "to be read" books, until December, a month off book club, fewer school days, fewer activities, more nights by the fire. I pulled Eli off my husband's shelf and dove in. Eli is the retelling of the gospel (in novel form), like you've never heard it before. It's twisted out of its familiar settings and verses into today's terms. I take such comfort in my tried and true Bible, but I must admit, I sometimes take for granted or skim over the deep lying messages within. What if Christ had been born in Santa Monica in the early 70's and a bunch of hippies were told by some glowing dudes they would find a new king, someone to change the world, in the laundry room of a motel, wrapped in motel towels? Bill Myers describes down to the beads and scent of smoke what it would be like. If I were in that motel, would I believe? The nativity presented in this manner drew me in as I gazed at the stockings hanging by our fireplace. As I read on, Eli helped me reposition front and center in my mind what Christmas is all about.
Follow Eli Shepherd as he heals the lame, feeds the hungry, gives sight to the blind and raises the dead - all with twentieth century paparazzi, politics and media. Read this book. Hear his message of love. Ponder if you would follow him. 75% of the United States wears either contacts or glasses, including me.
Most of us struggle to see the world we live in more clearly, sharper, brighter. I had an eye check up last week, you know the kind where they dilate your pupils with drops and everything is blurry for hours and hours afterwards? It was that kind. Due to the dilation drops, I spent the rest of the day wishing I could see more clearly. I wished my computer screen wasn’t so bright, so I could write the chapter I’d been plotting for my new manuscript. I wished the words in the book I’m reading weren’t so blurry. I wished I could respond to an email, flip through my latest copy of In Style or even get some early Christmas shopping done online. But nothing smaller than a chocolate chip cookie would come into focus. How often do I wish I could see God’s plan for me, His vision of me, the way He sees the world -- better, sharper, brighter, more in focus? But sometimes His ways are too bright for me to stare into. Sometimes His plans for me are too far away for me to see clearly. Sometimes, I let the lens of the world distort and twist God’s vision, His plans. So, I beg for clarity like the blind men outside of Jericho: “Master, we want our eyes opened. We want to see!” Deeply moved, Jesus touched their eyes. They had their sight back that very instant, and joined the procession. Matthew 20: 33-34 When I pray, when I actually lean on Him to see how things truly are, I get my sight back. Not always the way I want things to look, like no writing after my eye doctor appointment, even though that’s what I’d planned. But always something amazing, like the wonderful phone call I had with my mom instead. Lord, I really need to stop right now Stop now and focus on you Even with the chaos all around Stop now and focus on you. “Focus” by Holly Starr When friends, magazines, TV shows, work, and other worldly voices try to fill our eyes with drops of advice and expectations and pressures to dilute His view of us, all we have to do is call out, “I want to see!” and everything comes back into focus. How has God helped you see something more clearly this week? Thump. Bump. Thump.
The familiar sound of Howard, my daughter’s pet tortoise, trying to escape his terrarium interrupted my writing. Deciding we both needed a breath of fresh air, I gathered him from his glass home and took him out into the yard. Howard marched over to the mulch to explore. As he rested under my rose bush, my phone rang. “Hi Mom,” I answered. Mom chatted. I answered, then I scanned for Howard. Where was he? “Me too.” I responded, but my eyes were glued to the ground. Howard is various shades of brown with a tinge of green, perfect camouflage to keep him safe from predators and apparently to keep him hidden from me. “Sorry, Mom, I have Howard outside and I can’t find him,” I confessed, since I wasn’t engaged in our conversation. We exchanged goodbyes, as I robotically lowered my phone. I really didn’t see him. I’ve lost sight of Howard before, but only for a few seconds, then his bumpy shell always comes back into view. But this time I didn’t see him -- anywhere. I dropped to my knees and crawled around the flowerbed. “Howard” I called, knowing he couldn’t answer. Why couldn’t he be like a dog or cat who could make a sound, or who might even come to me when I call? Howard could be right next to me and I might not know, or he could be traversing into the woods. I searched the stem of every plant, rummaged through piles of leaves and ran my fingers along the base of the house. Nothing. What if the whole time I’d been searching the landscaping, Howard was lumbering across the white gravel driveway into the woods? How would I ever find an eight-inch tortoise in the woods? How far could he have gone? That was the question. At full speed, Howard could cover quite a distance, and it had been half an hour. In the woods he could be anywhere. Or what if he’d curled up in his shell to take a snooze? How would I find him if he lay perfectly still? I know. I know. It’s a tortoise I’m talking about here. But it’s not just a tortoise. Howard is my daughter’s pet, her first true love. She holds him and pets him and feeds him and nurtures him like a mama cares for a baby. My heart raced. Blood pumped to my brain, pulsing, drumming. My adrenaline surged with anxiety. If anything happened to Howard it would crush my daughter. Think of someone you love and the one thing most important to him or her. What if you lost it? That’s how I felt. I didn’t want to be the cause of her pain. For an hour and a half I did my Katniss Everdeen impersonation. I scanned the driveway for contrast of brown against white. I scoured the yard for bumps or movement. I strained my eyes for signs of Howard. And then I dashed into the woods. Down on all fours I crawled and dug and brushed away tree branches. I’m sure I looked crazy in my running clothes scaling rocky hills and digging through dirt and deteriorating leaves, but I didn’t care. I needed to find Howard for my daughter, for her heart. I pulled out clumps of weeds, hiked down to the creek and back. I strained my ears for the slightest rustle of a leaf, the smallest crunch of a twig and I prayed. You’re blessed when you feel you’ve lost what is most dear to you. Only then can you be embraced by the One most dear to you. Matthew 5:4 I begged God to help me find Howard, knowing God knew precisely the spot where Howard was. “Please show me, God!” I pleaded out loud. And as I heard my words, I knew there was more to them than the missing reptile. “Please show me God!” I implored again. “Please show me what you need me to do. Please show me what I can give up for you.” And as I begged God to help, He answered, “I don’t’ want you to give up something, one thing. I want you to give me EVERYTHING.” I’ve been reading Mary De Muth’s new book, Everything, which focuses on dedicating 100% of ourselves to Jesus, but I’ve been in a place for quite a while where I’ve given Him about 80%. I love Jesus. I worship Him. I pray to Him. I trust Him. I read His word, and then I try to take control of things myself. In the dirt, desperate to find a Russian tortoise, God reminded me, what He really wanted from me, was for me to give it all to Him. Not some, but all. I crouched, strained, crawled like a cat. I swished another clump of leaves with my fingers. And then I saw it – two brownish, blackish, greenish bumps poked out from a pile of leaves. “I found him!” I cried, easing Howard out of the earthen hole he’d dug for himself. Covered in dirt Howard was safe. He stretched out his neck and nodded, as if to say, “hello.” I held him up to the heavens, shouting, “Thank you God.” “Thank you God!” I announced again breaking into sobs. I thanked God for His grace to help me find two brownish bumps in the woods, but even more so, for helping me find myself wrapped in Him and Him living in me 100%, for reminding me that He is my everything. “God’s heart for us is that we would need Him; we’d lay our heads on His chest like a child needing a daddy after skinning a knee. We cannot experience this kind of relationship with Him if we are proud. We cannot grow to be more like Jesus without brokenness. Ironic, isn’t it? To grow, we give up. We rest. We give God control.” Mary DeMuth Everything Is Jesus your EVERYTHING? Are you ready for Him to be? We have a pet Russian tortoise. His name is Howard. Part of why Howard is our pet is because I’m tragically allergic to anything with fur. Part of why he’s our pet is because all he eats is lettuce (I couldn’t stomach the whole feed a lizard live crickets thing – ick!). We also chose Howard as our pet because with an average lifespan of 110, he’ll outlive all of us. Howard is cute with his bumpy shell and neck that stretches out when we rub under his leathery chin. But Howard is not brave. Instinctively an overwhelming noise, or an unexpected movement frightens Howard. At those times he retracts into his protective shell. When do you crawl into your shell? When you’re called on in class? When you enter a club or party or meeting or practice where you don’t know anyone, at least not well enough to join into the conversation? Maybe it’s not a place. Maybe it’s a person. There are certain people who make me feel like I’m five years old. When I’m around them, I crawl back into my little girl shell, shy of sharing my opinions and experiences, fearing my insights are insignificant, uninformed or they’ll be laughed at. Or it could be a circumstance. Do you pretend you’re texting to avoid a difficult question or socially awkward moment? Do you turn your phone over if the caller equals confrontation? Do you go along with the crowd rather than sticking your neck out and suggesting a different approach or standing up for who or what you believe in? I don’t want to be that person, but sometimes it’s easier to crawl into my shell. It feels safer. I’m sure Howard is quite happy. The life of a tortoise in captivity is peaceful, docile and rather uneventful. He’s warm and well fed and safe, and for a tortoise that’s enough. We also long to be warm and fed and safe, but God created us craving so much more. We crave love and acceptance and a sense of worth and knowledge and adventure and usefulness. Yet none of those things can be achieved in the safety of our shells. In the wild, a tortoise’s shell is a survival mechanism. Instead of being viewed as a meal to animals of prey, they could pass as a rock. Sometimes it is necessary for us to protect ourselves, so we don’t get eaten by this world’s birds of prey. But most of the time, we’d find the things that frighten us – risk of being rejected, risk of being wrong, risk of not making the team or not getting invited or not meeting someone’s approval - are actually opportunities to grow and to shine – to meet someone new, to learn a new perspective, to use our talents, to contribute, to feel proud and satisfied that we gave it our all. In her new book, EVERYTHING, Mary DeMuth says, “There is always another risk God asks us to take. Always another adventure around the corner. But if we stay in the “good old days,” (I’m inserting ‘shells’ here) we won’t take those risks or live that adventure today. Yet we crawl back there, don’t we?” It’s true. We let fears overtake the possibilities of today. We crawl back into our shells, where it seems safe and dark and quiet and no one and nothing can find us. But shells are dark and lonely. If we reach out of them, stretch our limbs and our hearts and our very selves, we can move forward and learn and triumph and experience. DeMuth goes on to say, “Dare to be brave today, and trust that when you extend your wings, you will fly.” Mark 14: 6-8 But Jesus said, "She has just done something wonderfully significant for me…She did what she could when she could." What could you do today? Where could you climb out of your shell, reach out your neck and let the adventure begin? Is there anyone in your life who makes you angry? You don’t want them to. You wish they wouldn’t. But either because of something they’ve done to you or someone you care about, they make you cringe or cry or both. The answer for me is yes. There is someone in my life who loved me and betrayed me. Someone who cared for me and emotionally battered me. There is someone who has scarred one of the people I love most in this world, and in turn hurt me. I struggle with this. I pray about this, but I continue to tussle with this relationship. Jesus teaches us to love one another. So I try to continue to love despite the hurt and the fear of being hurt again. Jesus says to forgive someone seven times seventy times. So I try to forgive, but the memories still haunt me and the scars still ache. While reading Everything by Mary De Muth I came across a passage that challenged me. It made me stop reading and get up and doodle around on Facebook. Not because her words made me think of a friend I needed to touch base with, but because I wasn’t ready to face what these words meant to me. “In that painful space, we have a choice: punish those who hurt us through control, or lay our hurt at the feet of the One who understands. Our task shouldn’t be punishing the villains in our lives, but enlarging the God who heals us from all wounds.” Mary De Muth Most of us are familiar with the Star Wars story. In the final episode Luke Skywalker faces his father, Darth Vader. Darth used to be a powerful Jedi fighting for good in the galaxy. Greed for power turned him into an evil leader using “the force” for wickedness. Luke has reason to be angry. Vader’s boss, Emperor Palpatine, urges Luke while watching this confrontation in Return of the Jedi, “Give in to your anger. With each passing moment you make yourself more my servant.” Sounds like someone else I know. Someone nagging in my head, urging me to cave to anger to make bad choices, hoping I’ll turn away from Christ, the force, which brings me life and love. I find solace and strength in Luke Skywalker’s response. “Never. I'll never turn to the Dark Side. You've failed, your highness. I am a Jedi.” Luke lowers his blade and chooses love. Do I have the strength to say it? “Never. I’ll never turn to the dark side. Satan – you’ve failed. I am a Christian.” Wow. That feels good. Just typing it here with you today. If you’re feeling gutsy say it out loud. In Holly Starr’s song, I Love You Anyway, she sings, “There will be times I remember the things that you’ve done to me. But I will choose love and forgive you for everything.” Words to live by. Choose love. May God’s force be with you. With the Olympics at the forefront of everyone’s minds and screens, we are filled with visions of young athletes overcoming impossible odds, training and working and sweating and crying and clawing and sacrificing and praying their ways to finding their dreams.
What’s your dream? To what ends would you go to achieve it? I know it’s not easy. There are roadblocks at every turn. Hurdles and obstacles like: It’s never been done before. I’m not strong enough. It’s a tough road. It’s not practical. When I’m older. If I was younger. I’ve never been formally trained. I’m not tall enough. I’m too tall. I don’t have enough money. I’m so busy. I don’t know how I’d get there. I’m exhausted. I don’t know anyone who does that kind of thing. I don’t even know where to start. ENOUGH! Or to use one of my favorite Italian words - BASTA! You could spend the rest of your life coming up with excuses why you never chased your dreams. OR… You could think of all the things you’re going to do today, tomorrow, before the Olympics are over to launch them into a reality. Oscar (Oz) Pistorious, aka The Blade Runner, is a double amputee. He plays rugby, water polo and tennis with prosthetics – unbelievable. But what is even more miraculous is OZ will be the first double amputee to run in the Olympics. Let me say that again. He had both of his legs amputated below the knee when he was a baby, yet he is running in the 2012 Olympics. He will be competing in both the 400-meter and 4 x 400 meter races for his native South Africa. Oz’s motto is. “You're not disabled by the disabilities you have, you are able by the abilities you have." It’s no wonder his last name rhymes with victorious. In all these things we are more than conquerors through Him who loved us. Romans 8:37 What abilities to you have? How are you going to use them today? |
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