Day One at Blue Ridge Mountain Christian Writers Conference

Alton Gansky drawing names for prizes. 

I'm doing a little something different this week. This is my first time attending the Blue Ridge Mountain Christian Writers' Conference in Asheville, North Carolina. So, this week, I'm posting about my perception of the conference as a new attendee.

The conference is held at the Ridgecrest Center which is on hilly terrain. I didn't arrive early enough yesterday to get one of the prime parking spots so I'm getting in lots of much-needed exercise!



The staff here is fantastic. There are people all over campus eager to help. Somehow I keep getting lost and can't find my way to different buildings. Yes, I have a map. But unless it sports a "You are Here" circle, I can't figure out where I am! Thankfully, I'm staying in the same building where the meals are served.

The workshops have been great. Some of the awesome classes I had today:
"4 Characteristics of Best-Selling Children's Books" by agent Sally Apokedak,

"Start Making Money Now" by author Michelle Medlock Adams
"Write From Your Life" by actor Torry Martin, who was also our keynote speaker tonight.

I have been gleaning from editors and agents all day. Writers can set up 15-minute appointments with them throughout the conference. These are golden opportunities for writers. Even if you do not have a project to pitch, you will always gain helpful and encouraging insights.

Today I met with one editor and one social media expert. The time was well spent. Tomorrow, I plan to meet with an agent and another editor.

Another great thing is conferees are allowed to sit at the tables with all these agents, editors, and published authors during meal times. Sometimes the conversation is business, but also we hear their personal life experiences. It helps reduce stress during interviews later when they've just shared helpful hints at the dinner table on how to bathe cats, or kids, or whatever.

Keynote speaker, Torry Martin, was terrific tonight. If you ever have a chance to hear him speak or watch him on YouTube, do it. He generously shares his knowledge as well as his heart for the Lord.

One of the most awesome things about this conference is the Christian atmosphere. While we're all unique (or as Torry puts it "uniquely weird!"), we all have a heart for Christ. It is amazing to see how God brings people together. No meeting is by chance.

I've met lots of new people today. I haven't met anyone I didn't like. In fact, I think I met a woman today who will be my friend for a lifetime.

Mother’s Day Gifts: Beauty is in the Eye of the Gift-Giver

by Sally Matheny

Best Mother's Day Gift Ever

Happy Mother’s Day to all mothers and to all those who mentor others with a mothering kind of love. 

I hope you are honored in some way today. Perhaps with a card or an extra special hug. 

Maybe you'll receive a gift. If little ones come bearing gifts, then I’m sure you’re well aware that beauty is in the eye of the gift-giver.

When I was four years old, my daddy took me to the store to pick out a gift for my mama. Never before had I been able to choose a present all by myself. I walked up and down the aisles, determined to discover the best gift ever.

My older sister was a thoughtful kind of kid—well behaved, smart, and orderly. She soon chose a pair of soft, bedroom slippers to give Mama.

I, on the other hand, was a rambunctious, tangled-hair, fly-by-the-seat-of-your-pants kind of kid. I had no idea what to get, but it had to be something fun, and colorful—something WONDERFUL! 

Several things caught my eye, but I kept going back to a ceramic bank. Perched on top of a horse was a Napoleon-looking soldier. The whole thing had a cartoonish look to it but my favorite thing was the hot pink in the uniform he was wearing.

I just knew my mother would love this bank. Daddy gently asked if I was sure that was what I wanted to give her. He even made a few other gift suggestions. Excitedly, I assured him the bank was the perfect gift.

On Mother’s Day, my mother opened my sister’s gift. Of course, she was delighted with the bedroom slippers. She said they were just what she needed and gave my sister a hug.

Then, she opened my gift. Did she like it?

You should have seen her eyes light up! Her smile told me she loved it as much as I did. I was thrilled I had found such an awesome gift.

Now, as an adult, my perception of the bank varies greatly from my four-year-old viewpoint.

My mother isn’t a pack-rat so I’m not sure why she has kept that bank for over forty years. Perhaps it's because of its unusualness.

My mother and sister

As a child, I liked that she held onto my gift over the years. 

As an adult, I treasure that little bank for other reasons. It reminds me of the tender, unconditional love my mother has always given me. That quirky, little bank captures the essence of her unwavering encouragement over the years.

Now, that I have kids of my own, I’ve received some “interesting” gifts as well.

However, the gifts are not near as precious as the children.

Their beauty is forever in the eye of a mother.

Happy Mother's Day, Mama. I love you. Thanks for loving me.

Carrying Around Injected Lies Since Childhood

by Sally Matheny

Courtesy of Dreamstime Photos

We hear lies every day from all avenues of media. As adults, we try to research, seek wisdom, and discern the lies from the truth. Sometimes, children aren’t as fortunate. Even some adults still carry around lies they were injected with during childhood.

I remember when I was about ten years old, our fifth grade class received boxes of beautiful books. We were told the class would be divided into small groups. Each group would have their own book to read through together during the year. 

We’d never had “reading groups” before, but we thought it sounded like fun. My friends and I were excited to see which of the pretty books we would get. We thought the book titled “Diversity” had a pretty cover and “Serendipity” looked cool, too.

Tina, Kim, and I had been best friends since kindergarten. We liked doing everything together. It never occurred to us we could be separated.

The students took a reading placement test. Apparently, the attractive books varied in reading difficulty. The next afternoon, the teacher called out each book title followed by the names of who was in each group.

Smiles and squeals darted across the room as the names were called for the “Diversity” group. Several of my friends’ names were called including Kim’s. After a few other names were announced, soggy butterflies filled my stomach.

I whispered to Tina, “How many people can be in each group?” She answered with a half-smile and shrug of her shoulders. The teacher called another name— Tina’s. Tina and Kim celebrated. Surely, my name would be next.

It was not.

Stunned by the sudden isolation, I barely heard my name called for the “Galaxies” group. Other names were called, but I did not hear them.

The Diversity reading group was asked to move to an area at the front of the room. I watched in agony as all my closest friends excitedly walked past me.



Satan's lies inject us with fears and doubts.
Courtesy of Dreamstime Photos

That was the day Satan injected me with a lie. I began to believe I was not smart or good enough.

The lie circulated in my system for so many years, I believed it to be true. 

Was it my teacher’s fault? No. The Department of Education’s? Maybe. Satan’s? Absolutely.

So, what lie have you believed most of your life?

“You’re ugly.”

“You’ll never amount to anything.”

“You’re just average.”

"There's nothing special about you."

“No one will ever love you.”

I hope you know now they are all lies.

I remember going to my teacher after school that day. With tears in my eyes, I asked her if there was any way I could be in the Diversity group. She explained about the placement test but assured me if I worked hard, I would catch up to them.

I was determined to join them in the Diversity group. I did work hard but reading groups in the schools, back then, weren’t really geared for self-pacing. There was never an opportunity to advance and join the same group as my friends.

My compassionate teacher always gave me hope and inspired me to keep at it. She never did anything to make me feel inferior. She and my parents encouraged me to do my best and not to worry about anything else.

With God's help we can break the chain of lies
 we believe about ourselves.
(Courtesy of Dreamstime Photos)

I worked hard, but somehow I still locked into the lie that I was substandard. It would be years before I allowed God to break that chain.

The fact is my friends were academically smarter. They scored higher on achievement tests and didn’t seem to struggle with some of the subjects I did. But that's okay. God had different talents and strengths in mind for me.

And He has a superb plan for each of you. He created each of us to be unique. How amazing is that?

The problem is, we slow down the progression of that wonderful plan when we mire up in Satan's lies. 

But God's powerful. Nothing is impossible with him. If we will let go of the lies, God will work amazing wonders! He can transform our weaknesses into His power tools! He can convert our self-imposed hindrances into catapults to reach others for His kingdom.

Are you hanging onto a lie from long ago? Hit the eject button, and prepare to be amazed at what the Truth can do!

First Impressions and Best of Intentions Hit the Ceiling

I understand what first impressions are, but what exactly are “the best of intentions?” Is that supposed to make a bad thing sound good or a good thing sound bad? 

My oldest daughter was coming home from college for the weekend. Her fiancé and his parents were also coming to spend the weekend with us. We were excited about getting to know his family better before the summer wedding.

Of course, major cleaning took place the week prior to the visit. On the day of our guests’ arrival, I’m sweeping up the latest brood of dust bunnies, (how do those things appear overnight?), when I notice something else that was not there the night before.

On the glass of a curio cabinet is a hazy film. The dry, odd-looking film begins at eye-level and trickles downward.

I retrieve a wet cloth and cleaning spray. Scrubbing what appears to be dried milk, I am wondering how it got so high on the cabinet. There is nothing on the floor. Wait a minute. Is that a smear across my newly mopped floor?

“Zachary!”

My eight-year-old son appears in the dining room. I interrogate about the smear on the cabinet and the floor.

“Dad was going to tell you but he thought he could just clean it up since you were upstairs cleaning last night.”

As the story unfolded, it became apparent that Zachary made his sister a chocolate-chip cookie dough milkshake the night before.  He was so excited to present her with his creation that his heels tried to pass his toes in route, which resulted in a collision with the floor.

“Dad, tried to wipe the milkshake off the floor.”

All the floor cleaner had been used in the week’s prior cleaning so I decided to bypass my burning desire to ask what he had used to “clean” the floor.

“What about this milkshake on the glass?” I asked.

“Oh, that. Well, we didn’t see that last night. I didn’t see it until this morning.”

“It’s three o’clock. When were you going to say, ‘Hey, Mom—There’s milkshake on the glass’? You know people will be here in just a few hours, right?”

“I meant to tell you. I forgot,” and he bounded off to play.

I finish cleaning the glass and walk to the kitchen to dispose of the mess. It occurred to me that if they missed the big smear on the cabinet last night, they might have missed some milkshake splash on the wall and baseboard. I return to the dining room to inspect.

My other daughter walks in and starts laughing. She compared my facial expression to that of Eddie Murphy’s in the movie, Daddy Daycare.

Remember the scene when he sticks his head into the bathroom to check on the toddler learning to use the potty? He begins looking at the floor and his face contorts with horror as he looks up the wall and to the ceiling. Well, that was me. I traced a trail of chocolate-chip milkshake from the baseboard, up the wall, and onto the CEILING! How in the world...?

I start scrubbing. I pull a chair over to the wall. I climb up to wipe the milkshake from the top of the wall. That’s when I noticed bits of chocolate-chip cookie-dough milkshake splattered and dried on top of the curio cabinet. Shaking my head in dismay, I begin to move china teacups to one side and start the scrubbing process all over again.

The baseboard, wall and curio came out sparkling clean. The ceiling with its bumpy white spray was another matter.

“Let’s get a knife and just cut out those pieces,” Zach offered.

“Zach.” My sense of humor had vacated the house hours ago.

“How about we throw a bowling ball up there to knock off the pieces of cookie-dough?” he asked with eyes gleaming in anticipation.

“Zach.” This time my tone of voice sent him scurrying off to safety.

My husband arrived home from work and the story grew more interesting. It seems Zachary left out the part of how half the milkshake ended up in his hair as he fell.

My sweet husband had the best of intentions. He tried to clean up this enormous fiasco without my help. He knew I had been cleaning all day and didn’t want to bother me with one more mess. He is a wise man and probably foresaw a frazzled woman snapping. His natural instinct as a protector kicked in and he did the best he could.

After I expressed my gratitude and thankfulness that Zachary did not crash dangerously into the glass cabinet, I reminded everyone that guests were coming.

“No one will look at the ceiling. No one will even notice it,” my husband said with a promise he’d paint it later.

The kids agreed. “No one will see it. Don’t worry about it.”

They were probably right. Who looks at the ceiling, anyway?

Later, the guests arrived and all was going very well. As they all sat down for a meal, I was in the kitchen getting my plate of food. I hurried back into the dining room so we could begin eating.

There they were…all of them…gazing at the ceiling.

My family was pointing out the brown, speckled spots on the ceiling and retelling the whole story!

I’m sure they had the best of intentions. So much for first impressions!

However, our first impression did break the ice and made us all laugh. We wanted everything to be nice for the arrival of our guests. We had the best of intentions for everything to be perfect.

But, we are real. Stuff happens—sometimes it affects us, sometimes it affects everything else in our lives, including the ceiling.

 

 

Celebrations and Exaltations

Don’t you love when spring ushers in warmer sunshine and longer daylight hours?  Although, for some people even spring days seem like long, dark winter nights. The occasional glimpse of sunshine is barely enough to keep them going.

But even on those lonely days, there is something to celebrate.  A party may not be in order, but joy is possible if there is a diligent search for it. Every day gives us reasons for exaltations.

Last week’s blog post was about when the powerless pray. A youth pastor was struggling to survive in the hospital after open-heart surgery. He and his family have been walking through some exceedingly tough days. They discovered that this young man’s aorta was torn fifteen years ago after a car accident. The doctors were baffled how he has been walking around and living a full life all this time. When they went in to make the repair, the damaged portion literally crumbled in their hands.  The past fifteen years has been a miracle for this man. Want to hear another miracle? He is now at home recuperating and exalting his Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ.

Months ago, the pianist, Ms. Evelyn, in our church fell and broke her shoulder and arm. She is in her seventies and has been unable to care for herself.  Her passions in life are her music, cooking, and caring for others. Many days were filled with pain and discouragement. Some said they didn’t think she’d ever be strong enough to come back to church. Another person mentioned the impossibility of her ever being able to play the piano again. Last week, Ms. Evelyn came to church. This week, she played the piano.  Shedding joyful tears and sharing her testimony, Ms. Evelyn exalted her God.  

For years, a woman has been praying for the salvation of her brothers. Last week, while she and her husband were out of town, her youngest brother suddenly passed away after suffering a heart attack. Grief-stricken, she and her husband traveled a long, heart-broken road home. They clung tightly to their Shepherd even when it seemed all hope was lost. There is great sadness due to the loss of the loved brother. But tears of grief merge with tears of joy.

A pastor, who had been visiting the brother, shared how this lost sheep had found the Shepherd and had found peace before leaving this world. Even though hearts ache, there are exaltations lifted up to the Savior.

Hopefully, your day is sunny and bright. However, if circumstances find you in a dismal place—keep searching for the joy.  Look past the cobwebs of pain and discouragement. Peek inside every annoying crook and aggravating cranny. It’s there, but you will need to look to the Son to help you find it.

 

The Spirit of the Sovereign Lord is on me,
because the Lord has anointed me
to proclaim good news to the poor.
He has sent me to bind up the brokenhearted,
to proclaim freedom for the captives
and release from darkness for the prisoners,
to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor
and the day of vengeance of our God,
to comfort all who mourn,
and provide for those who grieve in Zion—
to bestow on them a crown of beauty
instead of ashes, the oil of joy
instead of mourning, and a garment of praise
instead of a spirit of despair.
They will be called oaks of righteousness,
a planting of the Lord for the display of his splendor. 

Isaiah 61:1-3

When the Powerless Pray



 

Have you ever had a peaceful day quickly swirl into a situation where you had no control? Has your heart wrenched with agony because you were powerless to change the circumstances occurring in your life or someone else’s life?

A young, youth pastor in our community is in intensive care after open-heart surgery. Getting off the ventilator is proving difficult. His blood pressure dangerously flunctuates.



His wife stays by his side. His mother, father, and brother are there as well. Little children miss playing with their daddy.

Life for many has taken a nauseating spin. The kind of spin that brings you tearfully to your knees.

When faced with such circumstances, some people feel hopeless…powerless.

The family of this young man is drained emotionally and physically. Realizing they do not have the power to make this loved one well, they do not, however, feel helpless. Everything that is out of their hands, they place in the hands of Jesus Christ.

Many Christian brothers and sisters of this family want to assist them in any way possible. They offer words of comfort, run errands, and more. These things help but they don’t change the situation.


Christians are not immune to the troubles of life. When tough times hit, that’s when the powerless pray. They rest secure in the sovereign wisdom and almighty power of their Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ.



People gathering for prayer in the middle of town.

Many churches have been praying for this family but a few nights ago, they decided to unite in prayer. They met at the water fountain in town. It was cool and windy. They prayed together for the healing of this young man and for his family. The skies grew dark as the evening of prayer continued. Small groups huddled together with many prayers going up simultaneously.

Cars slowed down to see what was happening. Windows were rolled down in order to get a better view and in hopes of hearing something.

At one point, the stoplight turned green but the cars did not move. Drivers lingered, desperately wanting to know why these people had gathered in the middle of town. Questioning one another, “Have we missed something?”






Before the congregation left, they sang praises to God. Even though the night air was chilly, many stayed and fellowshipped with one another after the prayer service ended.

The last report is the youth pastor is off the ventilator. Praise God! However, he is still in critical condition. The prayers will continue.

Reportedly, 85% of patients with his condition do not survive. He is surviving and hopefully soon, thriving with a new strength.

God’s mercy is great. His loving kindness lasts forever. He holds his children securely, no matter what. 

What about you? Are you in the midst of a storm in your life? Feeling hopeless? Powerless?

Please don’t keep driving on your way. Do you only want a glimpse of what Christ has to offer?

Park the car—you’re missing something awesome and powerful! 

 

 

 

No April's Fool Here

Enjoy God's Gift of Laughter

I'm not playing an April Fool's joke on you. There's no blog post this week.

I am taking this week off to spend precious time with my husband and children.

I pray you all have a blessed Easter and enjoy time with your families as well.

I'll be back with something new for you on Monday!



                                          
                                            

It Was Only a Little Slip-Up

It was only a little slip-up. Nothing bad, really.
Either we have all said, aloud, or to ourselves, “At least I’m not as bad as him.”
It seems to make us feel better to rationalize the triviality of our mistakes.

Perhaps it was something that should not have been said, or words withheld, that were needed. A small act of unkindness. A scowling glare. Lingering thoughts.

What was the tiny slip-up? Was it just a bad habit?

“I’ve been like this my whole life.”
“It’s nothing, really.”
“I’ve always heard I take after my uncle, John. It’s just who I am. I can’t help who I am, right?”
“Nobody’s perfect.”
“The devil made me do it.”

One talent we have is making excuses. We begin practicing the art at a very young age. Some of us excel at it.

Eating a piece of fruit seemed like a
 tiny slip-up to Eve.

Sometimes we become so accustomed to our rationalizations that we begin to believe Satan’s lie of big sins and little sins. Satan would like us to believe the little sins are so tiny, we don’t need to be concerned with them. And the big sins, well, they are so big God will never forgive those so why bother?

This kind of thinking shackles us to sin. Satan offers nothing good and nothing that will last forever.

Here’s the thing—we’re not bound to our past, to our relatives, or whatever. We have a choice.
We can choose let go of the former things and grab hold of the Truth, Jesus Christ.

Jesus tells us, “Very truly, I tell you, everyone who sins is a slave to sin.”

There are those shackles again. And he didn’t say anything about how big or little the sin is. Sin is sin—it all measures out ugly. If it goes against God’s Word, it is sin.

We all know some nice people but Romans 3:23 tells us “for all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God.

The Good News is God loves us so much He gave His One and Only Son to pay the price for our sins. If we believe and truly love Jesus, we turn away from those sins. We can only do that with His help.

We have to grow in our relationship with the one, living God, by faith, through prayer, by Bible study, and fellowship with other believers.

That’s the Truth of Jesus.

“Then you will know the truth, and the truth will set you free.” John 8:32

The worse slip-up we can make is denying the Truth.