A Mile in Her Flip-Flops by Melody Carlson

I’m not the kind of girl who wants anyone to feel sorry for her.

So after my fiancé jilted me less than four weeks before our wedding date, and since the invitations had already been sent, my only recourse was to lie low and wait for everyone to simply forget.

Consequently, I became a recluse. If I wasn’t at work, teaching a delightful class of five-year-olds, who couldn’t care less about my shattered love life, I could be found holed up in my apartment, escaping all unnecessary interaction with “sympathetic” friends.

And that is how I became addicted to HGTV and ice cream. Okay, that probably calls for some explanation. HGTV stands for Home and Garden TV, a network that runs 24/7 and is what I consider the highest form of comfort TV. It is habit forming, albeit slightly mind numbing. And ice cream obviously needs no explanation.

Other than the fact that my dad, bless his heart, had seven quart-sized cartons of Ben & Jerry’s delivered to my apartment the day after Collin dumped me. Appropriately enough, dear old Dad (who knows me better than anyone on the planet) selected a flavor called Chocolate Therapy, a product worthy of its name and just as addictive as HGTV.

But now, eighteen months and twenty-two pounds later, I seem to be in a rut. And apparently I’m not the only one who thinks so.

“Come on, Gretchen,” urges my best friend, Holly, from her end of the phone line. “Just come with us–please!”

“Right…,” I mutter as I lick my spoon and dip it back into a freshly opened carton of Chunky Monkey–also appropriately named, but let’s not go there. Anyway, not only had I moved on to new ice cream flavors, but I also had given up using bowls. “Like I want to tag along with the newlyweds. Thanks, but no thanks.”

“Like I keep telling you, we’re not newlyweds anymore,” she insists. “We’ve been married three months now.”

“Yeah…well…”

“And it’s Cinco de Mayo,” she persists, using that little girl voice that I first heard when we became best friends back in third grade. “We always go together.”

I consider this. I want to point out that Holly and I used to always go to the Cinco de Mayo celebration together–as in past tense. And despite her pity for me, or perhaps it’s just some sort of misplaced guilt because she’s married and I am not, I think the days of hanging with my best friend are pretty much over now. The image of Holly and Justin, both good looking enough to be models, strolling around holding hands with frumpy, dumpy me tagging along behind them like their poor, single, reject friend just doesn’t work for me.

“Thanks anyway,” I tell her. “But I’m kind of busy today.”
“So what are you doing then?” I hear the challenge in her voice, like she thinks I don’t have anything to do on a Saturday.

I slump back into the sofa and look over to the muted TV, which is tuned, of course, to HGTV, where my favorite show, House Flippers, is about to begin, and I don’t want to miss a minute of it. “I’m, uh…I’ve got lesson plans to do,” I say quickly. This is actually true, although I don’t usually do them until Sunday evening.

She snickers. “Yeah, that’s a good one, Gretch. I’ll bet you’re vegging out in front of HGTV with a carton of Chocolate Fudge Brownie.”

“Wrong.” Okay, Holly is only partially wrong. Fortunately, I haven’t told her about my latest flavor.

“Come on,” she tries again. “It’ll be fun. You can bring Riley along. He’d probably like to stretch his legs.”

I glance over to where my usually hyper, chocolate Lab mixed breed is snoozing on his LL Bean doggy bed with a chewed-up and slightly soggy Cole Haan loafer tucked under his muzzle. “Riley’s napping,” I say. “He doesn’t want to be disturbed.”

“Like he wouldn’t want to go out and get some fresh air and sunshine?”

“We already had our walk today.”
Holly laughs. “You mean that little shuffle you do over to the itty bitty park across the street from your apartment complex? What’s that take? Like seven and a half minutes for the whole round trip? That’s not enough exercise for a growing dog like Riley.”

“I threw a ball for him to chase.”

“So there’s nothing I can do or say to change your mind?” House Flippers is just starting. “Nope,” I say, trying to end this conversation. “But thanks for thinking of me.”

“Want me to bring you back an empanada?”

“Sure,” I say quickly. “You guys have fun!” Then I hang up and, taking the TV off mute, I lean back into the soft chenille sofa and lose myself while watching a hapless couple from Florida renovate a seriously run-down split-level into something they hope to sell for a profit. Unfortunately, neither of them is terribly clever when it comes to remodeling basics. And their taste in interior design is sadly lacking too. The woman’s favorite color is rose, which she uses liberally throughout the house, and she actually thinks that buyers will appreciate the dated brown tiles and bathroom fixtures in the powder room. By the time the show ends, not only is the house still on the market despite the reduced price and open house, but the couple’s marriage seems to be in real trouble as well.

“Too bad,” I say out loud as I mute the TV for commercials. Riley’s head jerks up, and he looks at me with expectant eyes.

“You just keep being a good boy,” I tell him in a soothing tone. Hopefully, he’ll stretch out this midday nap a bit longer. Because once Riley starts moving, my tiny apartment seems to shrink, first by inches and then by feet.

My hope for an elongated nap crumbles when his tail begins to beat rhythmically on the floor, almost like a warning–thump, thump, thump–and the next thing I know, he’s up and prowling around the cluttered living room. Riley isn’t even full grown yet, and he’s already way too much dog for my apartment. Holly warned me that his breed needed room to romp and play. She tried to talk me into a little dog, like a Yorkie or Chihuahua, but I had fallen for those liquid amber eyes…and did I mention that he’s part chocolate Lab? Since when have I been able to resist chocolate? Besides, he reminded me of a cuddly brown teddy bear. But I hardly considered the fact that he would get bigger.

After he climbed into my lap that day, licking my face and smelling of puppy breath and other things that I knew could be shampooed away, there was no way I could leave him behind at the Humane Society. I already knew that he’d been rejected as a Christmas present. Some dimwitted father had gotten him for toddler twins without consulting Mommy first. Even so, Holly tried to convince me that a good-looking puppy like that would quickly find another home.

But it was too late. I knew Riley was meant for me, and that was that. And I had grandiose ideas of taking him for long walks on the beach. “He’ll help me get in shape,” I assured Holly. She’d long since given up on me going to the fitness club with her, so I think she bought into the whole exercise theory. She also bought Riley his LL Bean deluxe doggy bed, which I could barely wedge into my already crowded apartment and now takes up most of the dining area, even though it’s partially tucked beneath a gorgeous craftsman-style Ethan Allen dining room set. Although it’s hard to tell that it’s gorgeous since it’s pushed up against a wall and covered with boxes of Pottery Barn kitchen items that won’t fit into my limited cabinet space.

“This place is way too small for us,” I say to Riley as I shove the half-full ice cream carton back into the freezer. As if to confirm this, his wagging tail whacks an oversized dried arrangement in a large bronze vase, sending seedpods, leaves, and twigs flying across the carpet and adding to the general atmosphere of chaos and confusion.

My decorating style? Contemporary clutter with a little eclectic disorder thrown in for special effect. Although, to be fair, that’s not the real me. I’m sure the real me could make a real place look like a million bucks. That is, if I had a real place…or a million bucks.

I let out a long sigh as I stand amid my clutter and survey my crowded apartment. It’s been like this for almost two years now.

Overly filled with all the stuff I purchased shortly after Collin proposed to me more than two years ago. Using my meager teacher’s salary and skimpy savings, I started planning the interior décor for our new home. I couldn’t wait to put it all together after the wedding.

“Have you ever heard of wedding presents?” Holly asked me when she first realized what I was doing.

“Of course,” I assured her. “But I can’t expect the guests to provide everything for our home. I figured I might as well get started myself. Look at this great set of espresso cups that I got at Crate & Barrel last weekend for thirty percent off.”

“Well, at least you have good taste,” she admitted as she stooped to admire a hand-tied wool area rug I’d just gotten on sale. Of course, she gasped when she saw the price tag still on it. “Expensive taste too!”

“It’ll last a lifetime,” I assured her, just like the Karastan salesman had assured me. Of course, as it turned out, my entire relationship with Collin didn’t even last two years. Now I’m stuck with a rug that’s too big to fit in this crummy little one-bedroom apartment–the same apartment I’d given Mr. Yamamoto notice on two months before my wedding. It was so humiliating to have to beg to keep it after the wedding was cancelled, but I didn’t know what else to do.

And now, a year and a half later, I’m still here. Stuck. It’s like everyone else has moved on with their lives except me. It wouldn’t be so bad if I had enough room to make myself at home or enough room for Riley to wag his tail without causing mass destruction…or enough room to simply breathe. Maybe I should rent a storage unit for all this stuff. Or maybe I should move myself into a storage unit since it would probably be bigger than this apartment.

As I pick up Riley’s newest mess, I decide the bottom line is that I need to make a decision. Get rid of some things–whether by storage, a yard sale, or charity–or else get more space. I vote for more space. Not that I can afford more space. I’m already strapped as it is.

Kindergarten teachers don’t make a whole lot. I feel like I’ve created a prison for myself. What used to be a convenient hideout now feels like a trap, and these thin walls seem to be closing in on me daily. Feeling hopeless, I flop back onto the couch and ponder my limited options. Then I consider forgetting the whole thing and escaping back into HGTV, which might call for some more ice cream.

But that’s when I look down and notice my thighs spreading out like two very large slabs of ham. Very pale ham, I might add as I tug at my snug shorts to help cover what I don’t want to see, but it’s not working. I stare at my flabby legs in horror. When did this happen?

I stand up now, trying to erase that frightening image of enormous, white thunder thighs. I pace around my apartment a bit before I finally go and stand in front of an oversized mirror that’s leaning against the wall near the front door. This is a beautiful mirror I got half price at World Market, but it belongs in a large home, possibly over a fireplace or in a lovely foyer. And it will probably be broken by Riley’s antics if it remains against this wall much longer.

But instead of admiring the heavy bronze frame of the mirror like I usually do, I actually look into the mirror and am slightly stunned at what I see. Who is that frumpy girl? And who let her into my apartment? I actually used to think I was sort of good looking. Not a babe, mind you, but okay. Today I see a faded girl with disappointed eyes.

Some people, probably encouraged by Holly, a long-legged dazzling brunette, used to say I resembled Nicole Kidman. Although they probably were thinking of when Nicole was heavier and I was lighter. Now it’s a pretty big stretch to see any similarities. To add insult to injury, Nicole has already hit the big “four o,” whereas I am only thirty-two. Her forties might be yesterday’s twenties, but my thirties look more like someone else’s fifties. And I used to take better care of myself. Okay, I was never thin, but I did eat right and got exercise from jogging and rollerblading. Compared to now, I was in great shape. And my long strawberry blond hair, which I thought was my best asset, was usually wavy and fresh looking, although you wouldn’t know that now. It’s unwashed and pulled tightly into a shabby-looking ponytail, which accentuates my pudgy face and pale skin. Even my freckles have faded. It doesn’t help matters that my worn T-shirt (with a peeling logo that proclaims “My Teacher Gets an A+”) is saggy and baggy, and my Old Navy khaki shorts, as I’ve just observed, are too tight, and my rubber flip-flops look like they belong on a homeless person–although I could easily be mistaken for one if I was pushing a shopping cart down the street.

Then, in the midst of this pathetic personal inventory, my focus shifts to all the junk that’s piled behind me–the boxes, the myriad of stuff lining the short, narrow hallway and even spilling into the open door of my tiny bedroom, which can barely contain the queensize bed and bronze bedframe still in the packing box behind it. If it wasn’t so depressing, it would almost be funny. I just shake my head. And then I notice Riley standing strangely still behind me and looking almost as confused as I feel. With his head slightly cocked to one side, he watches me curiously, as if he, too, is afraid to move. This is nuts. Totally certifiable. A girl, or even a dog, could seriously lose it living like this. Or maybe I already have. They say you’re always the last to know that you’ve lost your marbles.

“It’s time for a change,” I announce to Riley. He wags his tail happily now, as if he wholeheartedly agrees. Or maybe he simply thinks I’m offering to take him on a nice, long walk. “We need a real house,” I continue, gathering steam now. “And we need a real yard for you to run and play in.” Of course, this only excites him more.

And that’s when he begins to run about the apartment like a possessed thing, bumping into boxes and furnishings until I finally open the sliding door and send him out to the tiny deck to calm himself.

After he settles down, I go and join him. It’s pretty hot out here, and I notice that the seedling sunflower plants, ones we’d started in the classroom and I’d brought home to nurture along, are now hanging limp and lifeless, tortured by the hot afternoon sun that bakes this little patio. Just one more thing I hate about this place.

So much for my attempt at terrace gardening. I’d seen a show on HGTV that inspired me to turn this little square of cement deck into a real oasis. But in reality it’s simply a barren desert that will only get worse as the summer gets hotter. I feel like I’m on the verge of tears now. It’s hopeless.

This is all wrong. On so many levels. This is not where I was supposed to be at this stage of the game. This is not the life I had planned. I feel like I’ve been robbed or tricked or like someone ripped the rug out from under me. And sometimes in moments like this, I even resent God and question my faith in him. I wonder why he allows things like this to happen. Why does he let innocent people get hurt by the selfishness of others? It just doesn’t make sense. And it’s not fair.

Oh, I’ve tried to convince myself I’m over the fact that my ex fiancé, Collin Fairfield, was a total jerk. And I try not to blame him for being swept away when his high school sweetheart decided, after fifteen years of being apart, that she was truly in love with him. I heard that the revelation came to Selena at the same time she received our engraved wedding invitation, which I did not send to her. She wasn’t even on my list.

And I actually believe that I’ve mostly forgiven Collin…and that sneaky Selena too. And I wish them well, although I didn’t attend their wedding last fall. A girl has to draw the line somewhere.

But all that aside, this is still so wrong. I do not belong in this stuffy little apartment that’s cluttered with my pretty household goods. I belong in a real house. A house with a white picket fence and a lawn and fruit trees in the backyard. And being single shouldn’t mean that I don’t get to have that. There must be some way I can afford a home.

Of course, I’m fully aware that real estate isn’t cheap in El Ocaso. It’s on the news regularly. Our town’s prices certainly aren’t as outrageous as some of the suburbs around San Diego, but they’re not exactly affordable on a teacher’s salary. I try not to remember how much I had in my savings account back before I got engaged and got carried away with spending on my wedding and my home. That pretty much depleted what might’ve gone toward a small down payment on what probably would’ve been a very small house. But, hey, even a small house would be better than this prison-cell apartment.

And that’s when it hits me. And it’s so totally obvious I can’t believe I didn’t think of it sooner. I will become a house flipper! Just like the people on my favorite HGTV show, I will figure out a way to secure a short-term loan, purchase a fixer-upper house, and do the repairs and decorating myself–with my dad’s expert help, of course!

And then, maybe as early as midsummer, I will sell this beautifully renovated house for enough profit to make a good-sized down payment on another house just for me…and Riley. Even if the secondhouse is a fixer-upper too, I can take my time with it, making it just the way I want it. And it’ll be so much better than where I live now.

I’m surprised I didn’t come up with this idea months ago. It’s so totally simple. Totally perfect. And totally me!

“We are going house hunting,” I announce to Riley as I shove open the sliding door and march back inside the apartment. His whole body is wagging with doggy joy as I quickly exchange my too-tight shorts for jeans and then reach for his leather leash and my Dolce & Gabbana knockoff bag–the one I bought to carry on my honeymoon, the honeymoon that never was. I avoid looking at my image in the big mirror as we make a hasty exit.

“Come on, boy,” I say as I hook the leash to his collar at the top of the stairs. “This is going to be fun!” And since this outing is in the spirit of fun, I even put down the top on my VW Bug, something I haven’t done in ages. Riley looks like he’s died and gone to doggy heaven as he rides joyfully in the backseat, his ears flapping in the breeze. Who knows, maybe we’ll find a house for sale on the beach.

Okay, it’d have to be a run-down, ramshackle sort of place that no one but me can see the hidden value in, but it could happen. And while I renovate my soon-to-be wonder house, Riley can be king of the beach. The possibilities seem limitless. And when I stop at the grocery store to pick up real-estate papers, I am impressed with how many listings there are. But I can’t read and drive, so I decide to focus on driving. And since I know this town like the back of my hand, this should be easy.

But thanks to the Cinco de Mayo celebration, the downtown area is crowded, so I start my search on the south end of town, trying to avoid traffic jams. I’m aware that this area is a little pricey for me, but you never know. First, I pull over into a parking lot and read the fliers. I read about several houses for sale, but the prices are staggering.

Even more than I imagined. Also, based on the descriptions and photos, these houses already seem to be in great shape. No fixer-uppers here. Then I notice some condo units for sale, and I can imagine finding a run-down unit in need of a little TLC, but it’s the same situation. According to the fliers, they’re in tiptop, turnkey shape–recently remodeled with granite counters and cherry hardwood floors and new carpeting and prices so high I can’t imagine doing anything that could push them a penny higher. My profit margin and spirits are steadily sinking. Maybe my idea to flip a house has already flopped. Just like the rest of my life.


Excerpted from A Mile in My Flip-Flops by Melody Carlson Copyright © 2008 by Melody Carlson. Excerpted by permission of WaterBrook Press, a division of Random House, Inc. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.

Perfect
By: Harry Kraus, MD
Publisher: Zondervan
ISBN#: 978-0-310-27284-7
Back Cover:
Wendi Stratford’s job as an accident reconstructionist is just one more enviable reflection of her ideal life. She’s got it all—perfect career, perfect looks, perfect husband, perfect home, perfect faith. There’s just one problem: it’s all a sham, right down to her bleached-blonde hair.
So Wendi hatches an impulsive and exhilarating plan to break free of the lie she’s been living--- only to watch her hopes die in a terrible accident. But as she sifts through the wreckage, Wendi comes to a shocking conclusion. This was no accident.
The quest is on to learn the truth, but the truth could be deadly. And now someone is leaving Wendi clues at accident scenes, clues that could lead her straight into a killer’s hands. With her life on the line, Wendi must find strength in a faith that until now had been merely an accessory to her storybook life.
With engaging characters swept into a millrace of mystery and suspense, Harry Kraus’s new novel is ……perfect.
Review:
Wendi has always lived the perfect life. She is the perfect daughter, sister, and wife. However, appearances are never what they seem. At the beginning of the story, she decides to stop living behind a fake smile and reveal her true self. The results are spun through this enticing story of suspense, family, and God’s grace.
Perfect succeeds at reading like a perfect book as it develops the main characters perfect life that is now falling apart. Bodies start piling up around Wendi and don’t stop until the very end. While she seeks to discover who nearly killed a close friend, she also discovers her true self. This discovery happens as she begins to look beyond the surface level of her husband, parents, sister, and herself. HIV, adultery, and drug addiction are a few other topics woven in the story.
I have heard it said," minister's families live life in a fish bowl." People put them on a spiritual pedestal expecting them to stay there. The author demonstrates the reality of this in his well written story. He also shows how guilt affects people in different ways, as in the difference between the heroine and the villain.
Perfect is a perfect mystery with a perfect spiritual twist. Reader Beware! Starting this novel at bed time will cause lack of sleep, because you won’t be able to put it down.
Reviewed by: Shellie Powell

The Will of Wisteria devotional study

Going Deeper with the Truths of The Will of Wisteria
In The Will of Wisteria, the Wilcott children receive an inheritance from their father only if they meet the conditions of the will. We also are given an inheritance from a heavenly Father: however, it is not dependent on us, but on our benefactor---Christ. Ephesians 1:11-12 says, “In Him we have obtained an inheritance, being predestined according to the purpose of Him who works all things according to the counsel of His will that we who first trusted in Christ should be to the praise of His glory.” God’s choice from our birth and before was that we would choose Christ and inherit His spiritual blessings.
According to Ephesians 1:3, “God has blessed us with every spiritual blessing in the heavenly places in Christ.” Once we choose Christ (Romans 10:9), we inherit many things from God, and the first is spiritual life. Ephesians 2 tells us, “He made us alive, who were dead in trespasses and sins,” and then goes on to describe a life that is spiritually dead.
In the book, Claire says, “We’re all bankrupt in some regard. We’re all broken. We all need to seek out the only one capable of truly fixing us.”(pg. 270) Do you agree with this statement? Why or why not?_________________________________________________________
According to Ephesians 2:4-9, why did God make us spiritually alive?
To be bankrupt means to be lacking, wanting, and in need of. Do you think a Christian can be spiritually bankrupt? What does 2 Peter 1:3-8 say?
Are you walking in the riches of Christ or are you living like a spiritual pauper? The first thing I want to do when I get a check is go to the bank and cash it. God is our banker. Have you been to Him lately? Do you know what’s in your account? Further reading related to our spiritual bank account:
Acts 26:18 Titus 3:7 I Timothy 6:17-19 Galatians 3:29
Romans 8:16-17 John 11:25 Ephesians (all scripture is from Holy Bible NIV, Zondervan Publisher, copyright 1973,1978

Fatal Deduction Reviewed

Fatal Deduction
By: Gayle Roper
Published by Multnomah Books
ISBN-13: 978-1-60142-013-8
Back Cover:
Twin sisters, deadly crossword puzzles, and a corpse on the doorstep are just the first clues to a family secret that goes back generations……..
Libby Burton longs to be close to her twin sister, Tori, but their lives have taken them in different directions. Forced to share Aunt Stella’s old Philadelphia home in order to receive their inheritance, Libby hopes for a change, but it isn’t looking good so far.
First, Tori tries to steal the affection and allegiance of Libby’s teenage daughter, Chloe. Then when a crossword puzzle with hidden threats shows up on their doorstep, Tori refuses to take it seriously ------in spite of the dead man who delivered it.
A stolen diamond and a botched kidnapping make Libby’s resolve to act faithfully more difficult. The answer to her problems lies in the riddles of the crosswords, but she is running out of time to uncover the truth.
In her latest romantic suspense novel, award-winning author Gayle Roper entices reader with her unusual blend of intrigue, faith, and clever crossword puzzle clues.
Review:
This story begins with high drama and follows through with it to the end. Crossword puzzles, family conflict, and a mystery are just a few items the reader has to solve in Fatal Deduction. Gayle Roper has created a novel that includes suspense, romance, and an emotional rollercoaster all at the same time.
The cast of characters come from all walks of life. I have twins, and if one of mine acted like Tori did, I would have to spank her—that is how emotionally provoking her character is. Nancy Drew meets modern day mom in the character of Tori’s sister. The characters were so realistic I felt like I could reach out and touch them.
The story line has more twists and surprises then a ride at Six Flags. The societal issues presented in the story run the gamut: single parenthood, effects of divorce on children, as well as, adoption versus abortion.
Fatal Deduction includes many spiritual lessons. It shows the value of being a spiritual light in a dark world. The characters of the twins shows the difference in a life lived for Christ and one lived for self. It also teaches how you choose to love family in spite of their flaws while entertaining to the end.
The story left me feeling hopeful about life. It reminded me that God does work things out for His good. I plan on getting my hands on every book written by Gayle Roper because it was just that good.
Reviewed by: Shellie Powell http://luv2read-luv2read.blogspot.com

Dawn's Light

Dawn’s Light
By: Terri Blackstock
Published by Zondervan
ISBN# 978-0-310-25770-7
Backcover:
As the end of a worldwide crisis comes in sight, one family considers the lessons they have learned….and faces their ultimate test.
In the face of a crisis that sweeps the entire planet back to the age before electricity, the Brannings face a choice. Will they hoard their possessions to survive—or trust God to provide as they share their resources with others?
#1 bestselling suspense author Terri Blackstock weaves a masterful what-if series in which global catastrophe reveals the darkness in human hearts---and lights the way to restoration for a self-centered world.
As the pulses that caused the power outage are finally coming to an end, thirteen-year-old Beth Branning witnesses two brutal murders. She narrowly escapes from the killer and runs away in terror. If she tells anyone what she saw, he’ll find her and kill her. But if she doesn’t, her silence could cost her life.
Meanwhile, as Deni’s ex-fiance returns to Crockett with a newfound faith and the influence to get things done, Deni is torn between the man who can fulfill all her dreams and Mark Green the man who inhabits them.
As the world slowly emerges from the crisis, the Brannings face their toughest crisis yet. Will God require more of them than they’re prepared to give? How will they keep their faith if he doesn’t answer their prayers?
Review:
There is a season for everything says Ecclesiastes 3:1, and Dawn’s Light covers many of those seasons. It is a story of beginnings, endings, and all the things in life that come in between.
Why does God allow bad things to happen to good people? How do you forgive what seems unforgivable? How do you trust God when you can’t see Him? These are just a few questions answered in the story.
The last book in Blackstock’s Restoration series is the most powerful and thought provoking of them all. It is a book where the reality of life’s hardships and fiction meet. Prayer, faith, and compassion are all topics presented in the book. The story made me realize there is such a thing as a suspenseful tear jerker, and Dawn’s Light is it.
Dawn’s Light can be read as a suspenseful book that will keep you up at night, or it can be used to take the reader to a deeper spiritual level. I found it very challenging as I compared myself to how main characters dealt with conflict, revenge, suffering, and how I do. I have read several of Blackstock’s books, and this one moved me more emotionally and spiritually than any other. After reading the story, I wanted to know the God of the Branning family better and so will you.

Courting Emma Review

Courting Emma
By: Sharlene MacLaren
Publisher: Whitaker House
ISBN: 978-1-60374-020-3
A Story Survival, Mystery, and Unexpected Love
Twenty-eight year old Emma Browning has built a barricade around her heart to survive the pain of growing up with her alcoholic father, Ezra. As she runs Emma’s Boardinghouse, she plays host to an array of unkempt, earthy characters while trying to maintain a protective emotional distance from people. No one has succeeded in getting to know the beautiful yet steely edged proprietress. That is, not until Little Hickman Creek’s handsome new pastor, Jonathan Atkins, takes up residence in the boardinghouse and begins to dismantle her carefully controlled world…
Clinging desperately to her stubborn ways and unable to forgive her father, Emma begins receiving letters from a mysterious sender who somehow knows about her and has secret information about Ezra’s past. Amidst all this, she is surprised—and unsettled by the attentions of both Johnathan and Billy, the smooth-talking traveling showman.
When the town of Little Hickman Creek is stunned by an unexpected turn of events, will Emma risk removing her protective shell to accept the love of God---and the love of a man?
Review:
The story begins with Emma struggling with hard-heartedness toward God, her father, and anyone who dares to get to close. A childhood schoolmate, now pastor, is led by God to help restore the broken relationship between Emma and her earthly father, as well as, her heavenly one.
Sharlen MacLaren touches on a variety of topics such as forgiveness, grace, prayer, and self-worth in the story. She does a splendid job incorporating scripture throughout the book. I counted sixteen Bible quotes. Some of the sermons told by the fictional pastor are so inspirational they could be used in one’s personal devotion time.
Besides the spiritual wisdom revealed in Courting Emma, it is also a fun read. The book leaves you with a good feeling about God, others, and life in general. It also reminds you that God values you just because you're, you. When I finished the last page of Courting Emma I found myself wanting to relive the experience all over again.

Review of Healing Stones

Healing Stones
By: Nancy Rue and Stephen Arterburn
Published By : Thomas Nelson
ISBN-13: 978-0-8499-1890-2
With One Flash Of A Camera, Demi’s Private Life Becomes Public News, She Doesn’t Know It Yet, But Her Healing Has Just Begun.
Christian college professor Demitria Costanas had vowed to end her affair with a colleague. But she gives into temptation one last time…..and a lurking photographer captures her weakness for all to see. Quite literally, she’s the woman caught in adultery. And almost everyone –herself included-has a stone to throw.
Enter Sullivan Crisp, a decidedly unorthodox psychologist with his own baggage. He’s well known for his quirky sense of humor and incorporation of “game show” theology “ into his counseling sessions. And yet there’s something more he offers……hope for a fresh start.
Reluctantly the two of them begin an uplifting, uneven journey filled with healing and grace. By turns funny and touching, this story explores the ways humans hurt each other and deceive themselves. And it shows the endlessly creative means God uses to turn stones of accusation and shame into works of beauty that lead us onto the path of healing.
An auspicious debut for a candid yet tender series about pain, healing, and God’s invitation for second chances.
Review:
This story is a captivating read and free - therapy session in one well-written package. Referring to one’s emotional and spiritual growth the fictional psychologists says, “Until we’re dead, none of us is done,” and that is just one of the many great quotes in the book. Healing Stones begins with the main character dealing with guilt feelings of a sin she has been hiding. After being caught in the act the story then progresses to reveal how her sin affects everyone around her.
Hypocrisy, forgiveness, and God’s love are themes that run throughout the story. As a child who was a victim of a family members affair, I found the book on target in showing the ripple effect of that kind of mistake. The storyline also includes a firefighter and how he deals with a loss caused by the twin tower attacks.
The dynamic duo Nancy Rue and Stephen Arterburn have succeeded in writing a book with both entertaining and spiritual value.