Friday, September 30, 2016

When Conforming is a Good Decision

Julia Refiner, a kindred friend, writer, and one filled with spiritual wisdom says:  

I Want to Be Conformed to Christ's Image

I don't quite know where to begin. 

One thing popped in my mind: I want to be conformed to Christ’s image. I’m certainly not there. I sin, I come to my knees and beg for His grace, He pours out His love and bids me stand up.

All my journeys together match up to this one overriding goal: to hear well done good and faithful servant. Knowing that I don’t deserve anything, but so grateful for His mercy moment-by-moment helping me through my days.

Sometimes these are tiring days. All of you know about that. Busyness takes over, but He calls me sit at his feet, like Mary, pouring my best out for Him. My best that is worth nothing, my efforts that are worth nothing. But Jesus delights in my songs, off-key, often with wrong words thrown in. The visceral heart cries when I’m desperate and can do nothing more than cry out a plea. 

My writing, too, desperately broken. I bleed on the page, yet sometimes I cauterize the wounds with a styptic pencil preferring the temporary sting to the shame of sharing my true self on the page. As the blood flows freely, He gently bandages my wounds yet asks me to show the scars to others so they can find healing. I flinch at the sight. Want to turn away at the thought of my wretched self.

Homeschooling, too, a constant breaking. Of my time as I watch another writer friend pile away pages per day after placing her girls on the yellow school bus. Patience, as I pray for grace to finish another math lesson, a constant reminder of my lack. Strength and energy lacking, thoughts of self-doubt in abundance. 

Coming to you with broken pieces, begging for you to put me back together. 

I am…

*a desperate sinner in need of Christ’s grace every moment
being sanctified, and conformed into His image 
*a wife who desperately desires to be a life-giving helper
learner at the hands of my beloved 4 and 7 year olds
*a fumbling writer desperate to minister to others
*a messy housekeeper
*a lover of food who is learning to care for her temple
*an intercessor as led by the Spirit of God

More than anything else, if one word could define my life I think I would want it to be worshipper. Worshipper of the living God. To have my life be about who He is and not who I am. Let my writing, my prayer life, my family relationships all be defined by this single word. HE IS WORTHY TO BE PRAISED!

Julia used worshipper as a single word she'd like to define her life. I would like the word encourager to define my life. 

What word would you like to define yours?

This post has been brought to you by the one word: Defining

Julia has helped me with crits, prayed for my needs, lifted my spirits, calmed my storm, listened when I rejoiced, encouraged my writing and has welcomed me to reciprocate.

Julia is a fellow Alley Cat. We are co-writers with eight other fabulous ladies for The Writers Alley, a blog for writers.

Tuesday, September 27, 2016

The Quasi Epic Fail

Puzzled by the title?

I probably would be too, except I was here when...

My son brought a huge bundle of paw paws from Grandpa's tree. Grandpa apparently likes the tree but had never harvested the fruit. My son decided we should taste the fruit.

Photo courtesy
We cut one open and found seeds, larger and thicker than watermelon seeds, and dotted throughout the fruit. The seeds, I'm told, should not be eaten. The fruit, had a creamy mushy texture like squished bananas. The taste was a mix between a mango, pear, and banana. 

So, now...proud son wants Mom (that's the role I played in this story), to make Paw Paw jam. Uh, yea...not so much. I pictured banana jam and couldn't see it working. 

He separated the fruit from the skin and seeds, put it in a bowl, and set it in the fridge. On his way out the door he said, "I have the paw paws all ready for you to make jam when you're ready, Mom."

At this point, I was desperately racking my mind for a way to use these paw paws. What banana recipes could I try for the paw paws. Bread? Cake? The winning idea was paw paw cream pie.

I found this recipe for banana cream pie on the food network:

Take 6 graham crackers, break in half and 

crush in a food processor

add 2 tablespoons butter and 1 1/2 tablespoons water, mix 

press graham cracker mixture into a pie pan. (Spray the pan to keep pie from sticking) and bake at 350 degrees for ten minutes.

put 1 1/2 tablespoons unflavored gelatin in a bowl. Add three tablespoons boiling water. Stir and set aside to gel.

In a separate bowl mix 1/3 cup + 1 teaspoon sugar, 

3 tablespoons flour, 1 1/2 cup milk, 2 egg yolks, and 1 teaspoon vanilla

whip together then poor in saucepan. Stir over high heat until mixture boils. Turn off heat and add the gelatin. Stir. 

Layer paw paws (or 3 bananas cut into little slices) on top of the graham cracker crust.

Poor the custard over the paw paws. Smooth the top and put in fridge for 3 hours to set. Do not cover with plastic wrap because it will mar the surface.

Remove from fridge and decorate with whip cream if desired.

Paw Paw Cream Pie
So when a dessert is normally served to family members, an overwhelming need to inhale said dessert takes place. But this paw paw dessert was new.

It used a new fruit.

One we hadn't incorporated as a regularly served item to eat.

Hubby, son, and daughter took a bite. "Good, Mom." Was their answer. But those diplomats didn't ask for seconds. They didn't even finish the small sample serving I gave.

Hours later I took the photo of the pie....yep, no one sneaked in the fridge to have a second piece.

Conclusion--paw paw cream pie is not one I recommend serving your mother-in-law, or your mother, or company...or anyone, not even the dog or cat.

It didn't taste bad. The custard on top slithered down into the paw paws and gave them a sweeter taste. 

It's just....yeah...a Quasi Epic Fail.

Do you have any ideas for paw paws? 

....My son planted three trees in our field. 

.........We will have plenty to share--hint, hint.

This post has been brought to you by the one-word: It-never-hurts-to-try-or-does-it

Friday, September 23, 2016

If Kindred Spirit Defined You...

When I was lost and floundering, a mere droplet in a pond of writers composing stories to impact the lives of readers, one person opened her smile, her arms, her spirit and welcomed me. She encouraged me to--well, do pretty much all I am doing today in writing.

Mary, Sue Herringshaw,
Casey Herringshaw

You might be surprised at her youth. I guess that is one plus for me, always willing to learn from anyone, no matter their age, and enjoy their presence. 

Her amazing plus, among a heap of others, was the willingness to be a kindred spirit to one who was older. 

We were chatting about what defines us, which turned into this post written by my good friend, Casey Herringshaw.

Defining You

I’m a writer. Words make up my world into a brighter, cheerier place (though sometimes when my characters misbehave, it can become a darker, more dangerous existence. ;-)

I have a list of words that describe me. Words that make up who I am to my friends, my family and to myself.

Nerdy knitter.
Avid reader.
General all-around farm girl.
Aspiring author.
Contest finalist.
Jewelry designer.
Nurses’ Aide.
Virtual Assistant.

I wear a lot of hats. I use a lot of words. But you know the most important ones to me? The words that represent those closest in my lives. Daughter. Sister. Child of the King. 

Sure, being an aspiring author is great. Donning the scrubs is a challenge. And making the jewelry is just plain fun, but they don’t represent me.

Some people would say it’s my chair-dancing personality sneaking out and I’m just a fun-lovin’ gal. (That’s what my ACFW friends would say.)

My Alley Cats would just call me cheeky and sassy (when they are having a friendly, be-nice-to-Casey) day.

My family would tell you I’m helpful and a great daughter (might as well aim for the best, right??) but can be a might disagreeable at times.

Casey's Facebook page

But what I do I really want to be labeled for? What words do I want people to think of when they see me? 


Those are the words I want remembered of me and spoken of when my name is said. I want my heart to be so synonymous with Christ’s that nothing can separate one from the other.

If you had three words you had to pick, which ones would you choose and hope people would say of you? I hope you’ll share in the comments, I’d love to get to know you!

Mary here...
Even in her twitter bio, Casey first tells her readers she is a Christ follower. 

Casey Herringshaw is a homeschool graduate and has been writing since high school. She grew up in rural Eastern Oregon in a town more densely populated with cows than people. Taking the words and stories God has placed on her heart and putting them on paper is one of her passions in life. Casey is a member of ACFW

So, what three words would you choose? Tough question, right? Yeah, me too. Just think of today. Right now. I suppose I'd pick: Listener, Christ-sharer, God-nature-art-lover.

Tuesday, September 20, 2016

If Only HS Counselors Gave Career Guidance, Kids Might Try..

Times have not changed.

Not really.

My high school counselor helped me after I waited over an hour, standing in a large crowd of students as organized as chaos allowed. The new school year had started that day. I went to my assigned homeroom with other classmates. It was a rather large school,1,000 in my class, almost 4000 in the whole school. Glitches happened in a school that big, I'm sure I didn't know the half of them. 

My home room teacher handed out our schedules for the semester. These computer generated class assignments were designed to meet our career goals. I chose the college track. 

The piece of paper handed to me had six class hours listed, the class I would take that hour, and the location. Mine said, study hall for all six classes. Odd, I thought. I specifically indicated I didn't want any study halls. 

The homeroom teacher had no advice for me other than, "Go see your counselor." 

The counselor serving students R-Z looked at the schedule once I finally had my turn, and laughed. "Looks like a computer glitch." 

Yah think?

He didn't know how to solve the problem and while he figured it out, I sat in the counseling office...for the entire day. And the next day.

A couple of years later, after the graduation ceremony, I heard the same question every graduate hears. "So, what are you going to do next?"

I didn't know. 

My dad was upset. "You need to make up your mind. If you don't go to college then get a job." And by the way, "if you go to college you're paying you're own way."

I think back and wonder what I would have studied had I received career guidance from the overworked, non techy counselor. I might have been amazed at the possibilities.

designs by Carolyn Randt 
The thought also made me think of another generation back. My mom apparently didn't receive a lot of career guidance either. I am convinced she could have been a great fashion designer, maybe even in New York. So much so, I've included a photo of a few of her high school drawings. The teacher wrote in the lower corner, "original, clever." We have drawings from even when she was younger. I'm surprised at the blue hair...who would have known way back when my mom was a teen that blue hair would be a color used today.

Amazing, yes?

Had she been directed to a school for design, or apprenticed to a designer, you might have in your closet a garment with her name on the label. As a traditional stay at home housewife, she made all her clothes and ours, at least when we were little.

I don't think there is a way to fix a lack of career guidance directly through the schools. BUT, we can influence the young people around us. Keep an eagle eye and compliment young people. Tell them they are good at what you see them doing. Reach deep and see the hidden talent.

Young people are the future generation. There are tons of amazing careers out there for them, many the kids have never heard of...yet.

And while these young people are the future generation, we the people are the voices. Voices that help others.

This post has been brought to you by the one word: Hiddentalentintoday'syouth

Friday, September 16, 2016

A Second Rung on Jacob's Ladder-Way More Difficult Than It Looks

This weekend I am starting a new series. 

You will read deep-hearted stories by people you've met here. Come back each weekend and be blessed. Leave a return word of encouragement for those who shared in the comment section.

Periodically I will be giving books away to a commenter. But to me, the greater gift is the heartfelt words from my guests.

Today, Sherrinda Ketchersid, a former Writer's Alley Cat tells how God nudged her to a second rung on Jacob's Ladder. The step is way more difficult than it looks.

The Second Rung

I’ve been calling myself a writer for about six years. It has been the most wonderful, frustrating, rewarding, exasperating thing I have ever done! I’ve loved meeting other writers online and have been planning to go to the big ACFW Conference with great anticipation. It’s what I love!

Not long ago, God got a hold of me and we wrestled for quite awhile. You know when God is talking to you, even though sometimes you don’t want to hear Him. You have a disquiet feeling in your heart. You aren’t at peace. You run into road blocks at every turn. You know good and well He is trying to get your attention, but you look the other way.

God was convicting me of not being a better helper to my husband, who pastors a small church. I’ve been an active member, but my heart hasn’t been in it. I have been consumed with writing and blogging, letting it take over, letting it become an idol of sorts.

Here’s the thing. When I married my husband, I knew that his calling would become my calling. Called by God. Called to serve. And I have ignored my calling. My husband needs me. He needs to know I am completely behind him, that I am interested in his work, that I “get him”. No one can “get him” like I can – and he needs to know I do! 

So three weeks ago I was battling God, because I felt like He was asking me to give up my writing. Not forever, but for a season. I didn’t want to, so I asked God to give me a sign. In my prayer time before church, I asked God to make it clear I was supposed to give up my writing. 

Well, God was so faithful. In the sermon, my husband (who had no idea I was wrestling with this) says this while talking about the prodigal son in the pig pen: Living in the pig pen is not just the place where sinners end up. Sometimes it’s us in the pig pen. It’s those of us who put other things before God. Are you putting things before God? Is God telling you to give up anything? Is He speaking to you?

Tears flowed from my eyes when I heard those words. My God answered my prayer in such a clear and profound way. He cared enough to speak to me and guide my way. What an awesome God! 

And that’s not all He did!

When I belong to The Writer’s Alley, a blog written by 10 aspiring authors, I thought I should back out. I wasn’t going to be writing for publication! But they asked me to stay and write more spiritual/devotional type posts. It could be writing or reading related…or not. I wasn’t sure if I should, so I said I would pray about it. That night, my husband came home from work and said he thought I shouldn’t quit blogging. He thought I should write more spiritual/devotion type posts! Isn’t that amazing? I love it when God speaks in ways that are unmistakable! 

You know, it isn’t easy to give up something that is so important to you. It is difficult. It hurts! But I do know this, God has a peace that passes understanding that will fill you and He will be your very great reward. He will compensate for the loss. He will make a way for you. 

So you might be wondering how I am spending my time since I’m not writing. Well, I am digging into the gospels, and am studying the life of Jesus. I want to be Jesus in this world. His hands. His feet. His heart. I want to encourage those around me. I want to build up God’s kingdom here on earth. I want to be a part of the mission of Christ and all that entails!

Sherrinda's website has innovative arts and crafts and devotionals.

Thanks for having me, Mary!

Take a few seconds to share your thoughts to encourage Sherrinda and maybe tell of your second rung experience in the comment section below. Your prayer requests will faithfully be taken to the Father.

Tuesday, September 13, 2016

I Saw It...It Wasn't a Mirage!

I walked around a corner in my house to the doorway of a room and stood perplexed. I saw water through the window.

The window faced a field that is being converted to a meadow of flowers and grasses. The water appeared to be a lake.

Like you'd probably do, I walked closer to the window and saw it had been opened. The vertical angle led me to believe the lake was a reflection.

Couldn't be. The window opening was angled so that only something to the left would reflect. Our garage was to the left.

I grabbed my camera and snapped the photo for evidence despite the camera's protest against painting the very clear image of water I saw. Really! I wasn't imagining this!!

Then the aha moment hit. 

The lake's steely gray waves, which was down the hill and way to the right, reflected off the garage door window and bounced again off this room window where I stood.


There are moments when I can love science.

And then I wondered what God wanted me to really see in this.

I have been given many opportunities to share the gift of life God has given to me. I'm not one who smacks every person I meet over the head with the Gospel message. I prefer methods used by Hudson Taylor, Amy Carmichael, Mother Theresa and other's who saw a need..and while meeting the need...shared the story of the God who loves.

Like these missionaries, I may not see the fruit of witnessing. I may have been the first contact, the one to plant the Gospel seed, I may have been the one who watered what someone else said, and sometimes I was blessed to see a person believe in the God who loved them.

Whether we see the fruit of our work or not, we can always know that nothing we do for God goes unused. The person we helped will be able to help someone else who will then be able to help someone else. The power in one act is exponential. I only saw the reflection of the lake that had bounced three times (the garage window, the room window, to me). But God's power will reflect many more times. He only asks that we follow His call, participating in a life changing chain.  

I'm sure there are about a million other lessons that can be gleamed from this lake reflection. More than one for each person. 

I hope you share the one that pops in your head in the comment section below.

This post have been brought to you by the one word: Reflection

Friday, September 9, 2016

Time is a Treasured Commodity

Photo Courtesy

Seems like meeting new authors has come to an end.

The numbers have dwindled to only a couple of hundred, causing me to wonder if this is something you all are interested in. 

I mean, I'm willing to do the leg work. Have for four+ years. I've search for new authors, representing all genres, meet them at conferences, etc. Get their info...and, well, and take care of the details.


Now, I'm thinking it seem like meeting new authors has come to an end because the numbers of readers have faded.

The purposed for this particular weekend will be then to see where everyone is at.

True, there are a gazillion blogs out there. 
And time is a treasured commodity.

So, in one word or more...

Let's Talk.

1. Do you want to continue meeting new authors? Book giveaways are a given.

2. And the dreaded question (this is one I would have trouble answering at first myself), what would interest you enough to read about?

Think about it. If you need, come back and answer.  But answer question number one in the comment section first.

I am not closing down this blog. Just feeling my way through how best to engage you all in an exciting, refreshing chat.

I am ready to meet a new bull and to take him by the horns. 

Tuesday, September 6, 2016

Ever Had A Random News Report Answer An Unrelated Question? Well, This One Did.

Uzbekistan's flag and Ukraine's flag

A radio news segment caught my attention last week. The story featured a man who shared his struggle. This was a total ah-hah, I get it, moment for me.

The man lived in Uzbekistan ( possibly Ukraine. To be honest, I heard this report while driving and could not take notes for you. I went back to the station's archive, even sent an email to the station to confirm which country but did not find or receive the answer. The point is, while the two countries are individual and important, the story could have easily happened in both.)

The man said he struggled because for seventy years communism ruled his country. Now that his fellow countrymen were able to return to their own culture and restore what was a way of life years ago, they simply didn't know how...or what used to be. Recipes. Celebrations. Clothing styles. Traditions. Normalcy. You name it. All of this had been taken away from them for seventy years.

That single comment was more powerful than I believe the man imagined. 

I have been doing a series of stories about the Jews returning from Babylon to Jerusalem. To say the Jews messed up more than once after returning to their homeland would be to sorely understate. Babylonian soldiers forced waves of Jewish citizens to walk miles to a foreign country and pressed them into servitude. 

For seventy years Jews served under various ruling kings of the empire. Then, the king sent  a group back to rebuild the city. This first group rebuilt their houses, planted their crops, and that's about it. 

Some time later, a Babylonian king sent Ezra and another group back. The king told Ezra to teach those living in Jerusalem and Judah the law of Moses. For a time the people listened. Repair began on the temple. Then everything fizzled again. 

God sent Nehemiah's brother to him with a report. Nehemiah, the Babylonian king's cupbearer, told the king what his brother said. Jerusalem and Judah were a mess. Many repairs simply were not getting done. The king sent Nehemiah with another group of Jews to Jerusalem to rebuilt the city walls.

The Jews had lived under Babylonian rule for seventy years. 

I thought, at last, they're free! They should have been excited to go back to their own homeland where they had the freedom to live their culture? Why didn't they rebuild, renew, restore, restart?

This man's report enlightened me with an answer from today's world. An answer I could understand. 

The Jews almost refusal to return to the ways God had taught their fathers wasn't because they didn't want to or didn't have the energy or money. It was because they no longer knew how. 

Many of those returning to Jerusalem had never lived in their homeland or were only small children when they left. They didn't know. Perhaps some couldn't speak the language, knowing only what the Babylonians spoke. 

And that is why God sent Ezra with the law of Moses and Nehemiah with the skills to rebuild the push start the restoration. That is why the Jews just didn't know how to live their culture right away.

Now I get it.

Friday, September 2, 2016

Fabulous Feature-Nancy Rue

Today we welcome author:
Nancy Rue

A commenter will win a copy of
Nancy's book:
Winner chooses one:

One Last Thing

Sorry I'm Not Sorry
Too Far to Say Not Far Enough

Scroll down to see how.

Mary here. This last March I sat in Nancy Rue's class at Mt. Hermon Writer's Conference. To say I learned reams would be to minimize what this amazing author communicated to us. I have known her as an author since my kids were small, and now I now her as a 3D godly woman.
 I asked Nancy, How has God led you on your writing journey? Here is what she said: 

Just When You Think You're Done

When I’m asked, “How has God led you on your writing journey?” I have to answer, “How much time you got?” Because seriously, my 35-year career with its 125 books has ALL been God-connected. Okay, except for that one really awful novel I wrote before I was ready and that thankfully never saw the light of day …

How could it not have seemed like it was all ordained and anointed by God? I started my writing life just when Christian fiction was coming into its own. Publishers were scrambling for proposals and offering amazing advances and tapping their toes for the author’s next idea. By the time I went full-time into writing I was able to make a comfortable living at it, and oh, my, was it heady. I was getting emails and letters from grateful girl-readers and their moms and later from the adults I wrote for too. There were speaking events, gratifying responses to my three (count them) blogs and the belief that this blissful way of working and being was going to go on forever.

Yeah, had to be a God-thing.

That was probably why I didn’t become too concerned when the recession hit in 2007 and some of my fellow writers were having a tough time getting new contracts. Sure, I was seeing a decrease in advances but they were still healthy and I was still writing and reaching people and thinking if I continued to produce good quality stuff I could ride this temporary wave on into the future.

Was I blind? Naïve? Too egotistical for words?

Actually, I think it really was my belief that as long as I was doing what God called me to do I would be taken care of. The contracts and the advances and the royalty checks and my status as a Christian author would just be there.

It wasn’t.

The warning flags began to wave about four years ago, when I proposed a trilogy I was passionate about to my long-time publisher and was told, “This is just too Christian.” Mind you, those words came from the largest publisher of Bibles in the world …

Another of my publishers – in fact, more than one – said they loved me, loved my work, but my recent numbers just didn’t warrant a new offer. I wasn’t selling enough …

How to fix that? They said get more followers on Twitter. More likes on my Facebook page. More subscribers to my blogs. Do blog tours and Facebook parties and contests. Promote everybody else’s books so those authors would promote mine. Nobody was saying, “Write more books. Write even better books.” They were saying, “Sell more books.”

Of course. With that master’s degree in marketing that I didn’t have.

It all came home to roost in May of 2015. My last two books had just been launched with minimal fanfare (I didn’t throw a Facebook party for 2,000 people). Two recent proposals had gone all the way to the publication board and then been rejected because of disappointing sales numbers. I still had one out there, one I was aching to get my writing teeth into. But on that day in May, I received an email from the editor saying, “We would love to publish this, if you could just find a way to get more readers.”  

I had a meltdown. The acute phase lasted for days. The chronic phase went on for several months. By the fall I was working on a novelization of a film, which kept me writing, but the career I’d loved for so many years had all but dried up and I was grieving.

So I decided to let it go. Release it. Actually, that wasn’t a choice I made out of the ether. In my journaling and praying and walking and all the other things I was doing with my new free time, I was nudged by God to come to this in January of 2016: I would expand the writers mentoring program I’d developed and enjoy working with my growing number of clients, and I would consider any writing that came along. No more trying to come up with proposals and trotting them around like a pathetic 64 year old still wearing high heels and getting face lifts. If a project came to me that had God written on it already, then so be it. If not, I truly could be okay with being done.

I was already planning a semi-retirement party for my 65th birthday when God made his move. A sudden influx of new clients. Invitations to speak and teach. Okay, I was right, then …

And a request to submit a proposal for a book series with a new publisher. One that didn’t care about the past sales numbers. One that wanted writers to write, not promote and market. One that said, in essence, “You’re not done.”

It has been the clearest leading from God that I’ve had since the day I sent my first short story to a Christian magazine in 1982. Not the part where I got the four-book contract and can now pursue a project I’m nuts about. The part where God said, “Release it all and see what happens.” I’m sure I would still be happy today if this opportunity hadn’t come along. It was the freedom to be authentic and refuse to jump through hoops I couldn’t believe in -- that was the God-thing.

So even after these four books are published, I’m still going to leave the next steps up to God.  In the meantime, apparently I’m not done. And I’m good with that.

2016 marks Nancy Rue's 35th year as a published writer. In that time, she has become a best-selling author of books for ‘tweens, teens and adults. Over her career she’s written 125 books and has won two Christy Awards as well as the Women of Faith Novel of the Year distinction. Her recent tween girl trilogy, The Mean Girl Makeover, gave rise to the So Not Okay anti-bullying movement. 
Nancy has expanded her offerings to include a mentoring program called From Shadow to Shelf for budding authors with dreams of their own. She travels North America speaking and teaching at writer's conferences and holding writing intensives.

She lives in Tennessee with her husband, Jim. Their daughter, Marijean, son-in-law, Brian, and five-year-old granddaughter Maeryn, live in nearby Nashville. The Rues’ yellow lab Geneveve and tabby cat King Arthur share Jim and Nancy’s home. Without them writing would be difficult.

Nancy wants to hear from you! 
Contact her at:    

Sorry I’m Not Sorry  Middle Grade story - tells the story of Kylie Steppe, former queen bee of Gold Country Middle School. After bullying a fellow GCMS student, Kylie has been expelled—and she has to attend mandatory counseling. Without her posse to aid her and other peers to torment, Kylie focuses on the person who stole her GVMS popularity crown: Tori Taylor. As Kylie plots revenge on Tori, she attends therapy sessions, where she reveals a few details that might explain why she finds power in preying on her middle school peers. After a rough year with bullying backfire, will Kylie decide to become more empathetic with her peers?
It's hard for tweens to imagine why a bully acts the way she does. Sorry I’m Not Sorry shows girls that they hold the power to stop bullying through mutual understanding and acts of love.

To Far to Say Not Enough - Adult story - Allison Chamberlain has done everything God required of her—but as He continues to nudge her in the third and final book of The Reluctant Prophet series, she is ready to say, “Enough!”

Even with two Sacrament Houses open, the Sisters’ second hand clothing boutique making its debut, and the orphaned Desmond legally adopted, Allison Chamberlain receives the divine Nudge to Go another mile. Eventually responding with her usual reluctant obedience, she finds herself caring for a very young prostitute and facing the deepest roots of evil. Despite the adversaries who threaten those closest to her, Allison finds that she has not gone far enough until she conquers hate and learns to love as God does. No matter what the consequences.

One Last Thing - New Adult story - Tara had always imagined her happily ever after. But her fiancé’s secrets are changing this story into one she doesn’t even recognize.

Tara Faulkner and Seth Grissom grew up next door to each other in Savannah’s historic district. Their parents are best friends. They finish each other’s sentences all the time. Their fairy-tale wedding is a foregone conclusion . . . until Tara discovers another side to Seth three weeks before the wedding.
Reality has crashed in on Tara's fairy tale-but hope will lead her to a future she couldn't have planned for herself.

Enter the contest to win a copy of Nancy Rue's book:
(winner may choose of these books)
One Last Thing
Sorry I'm Not Sorry
Too Far to Say Not Far Enough
US only

Here is how:

1. Leave a comment (and email address)

2. AND sign up to receive my newsletter -in the right column

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Thank you, Nancy, for joining us this weekend!

We enjoy chatting with you, Reader, and look forward to reading your comments and questions. Or at least your hi, hello, or hey.

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