Welcome Guest Blogger Virginia Campell

"You may be looking, but are you seeing?"

A FAITH (and Foodie) POST by  Guest  Virginia Campbell

Welcome Virginia! Thanks for visiting and sharing some of the lessons of love and sharing and faith you learned through your family. 

When we are growing up, we often don't see the value in the life lessons we are being taught by our parents and grandparents. We may be looking and listening, but still not comprehending. Sometimes, it takes maturity and similar experiences in our later years to really grasp the full meaning of their examples. Life is a continual learning process, full of starts, stops, and restarts. In the same way, we also explore and perpetually evaluate our faith through contemplation and prayer. The truth is always there, waiting. We just have to find it. It already knows exactly where to find us.

*image from live earth farm. net*

I grew up without my Dad, but I had the most wonderful male role model I could want, and that was my beloved grandfather. His name was Tazewell, and his nick name was Taz. My nick name was Little Taz. Yep, we were close. I was a "Paw Paw's girl". I only had my grandfather for nineteen years, and he was the light of my life. He's been gone for over thirty years, and I miss him more than I can say. My favorite Summer memories are of the times I spent with my grandparents working in our garden. My grandfather was a natural "master gardener". He grew the best tomatoes that I have ever tasted! 

One of a Southerner's favorite meals is a slice of juicy, ripe homegrown tomato on a fresh, hot butter biscuit! I used to love to help my grandfather plant the tomatoes. Dig a little hole, add some water, drop in the little plant, pat the dirt down, add a little water, repeat. On and on we went, row after row, until we were done. It was never work to me, it was just a special time shared with my Paw Paw. He was a very modest and conservative person, and he had a natural wisdom that still guides me to this day. 

My mother had an altogether different experience with tomato planting. She was the oldest child, and she had to help pull the plow in the family garden, which was much larger than the little garden patch I helped to work. This was not cruel and unusual punishment, this was how families had to work together during the Great Depression and the recovery years. Mama really loved tomatoes, and she looked forward to reaping the rewards of her hard work. One summer, she noticed an alarming trend in the tomato patch: Every Sunday, while the family was at church, someone was sneaking into the garden and taking ripe tomatoes. Some other vegetables also went missing, but it was those prize tomatoes that the thief coveted. This greatly upset my mother, and she was in tears when she pointed out the robberies to my grandfather. His response was: "Well, Sis, if that fella has to sneak into the garden while we are in church, then he must need that food more than we do." 

Mama didn't understand at the time how Paw Paw could be so calm, but later on she always repeated the story with a tone of admiration. One of my grandfather's beliefs was that if you have more than you need, then you have too much. Even though he had to put a lot of hard work and precious resources into planting and harvesting his garden, he was content and more than happy to share with others. He also knew that the Lord had a greater plan, and somehow all would be as it should.

My grandfather was not really a cook, but he could handle kitchen basics. He was a great potato peeler! He would often hum while he was peeling potatoes, and he enjoyed eating a few chunks of raw potato as he worked.

Potato Patch Soup
2 lbs. potatoes, peeled and diced
1/2 lb. carrots, peeled and diced
2 stalks celery, diced
1 onion, diced
4 c. water
1 pint (16 oz) light cream
1/4 c. butter, sliced
1/2 tsp garlic salt (California-style with parsley flakes)

8-oz. pkg. shredded Cheddar cheese
3 slices bacon, crisply cooked and crumbled
coarsely ground black pepper

Combine vegetables and water in a stockpot over medium-high heat. Cook until vegetables are fork-tender, 15 to 20 minutes. Reduce heat to low; stir in cream, butter and seasonings. Heat through, but do not boil. Garnish each serving with a sprinkle of coarsely ground black pepper, and top with cheese and bacon.

 *from homestead gardens*

My grandmother was the best cook ever, and she cooked and canned wonderful foods that we grew and harvested from our own garden. Gran and I would also go on "nature walks". She knew the name of just about every flower and plant along the way. One day she had me smell the leaves of a low-growing plant--Teaberry--just like the chewing gum! It smelled wonderful, and it made my mouth water! For many years, we lived at the top of one of the highest hills in town. 

When you live in the mountains, you live with hills. The back side of the hill was an overgrown mass of trees, shrubs, assorted plants and other woodsy things. A perfect place for a curious child to investigate. I discovered some lovely flowers, a bench, and other wondrous things, and I couldn't wait to show my Gran. My wonderful, patient, wise Gran let me lead her down through the overgrowth into my woodland play world. With her gifted, learned eyes and her naturally intuitive intelligence, she saw what I had not seen. 

At some point in time, probably around the turn of the century, someone had painstakingly landscaped that hill. Gran saw it all. The bench, the fish pond, the strawberry patch, the innumerable flowers and shrub plants, and the wonderful high arch between two large boxwoods. Gran said that it was a lover's arch where sweethearts stole a kiss. As I stood there with my remarkable Gran, I knew that I was in the company of someone very, very special. The powerful jolt of love and pride that I felt for her that day remains in my heart.

My Gran loved chocolate:

"Love Me Tender" Chocolate Pudding Cake

1 two layer chocolate cake mix
3 oz. pkg. instant chocolate pudding mix
1/8 tsp. cinnamon
4 eggs
1 cup water
2 cups sour cream
3/4 cup vegetable oil
1 tbsp. vanilla extract
3/4 cup semisweet chocolate chips
1/4 cup milk chocolate chips

Spray a 4 quart crockpot with non-stick cooking spray and set aside. In a large bowl, combine the cake mix, pudding mix and cinnamon. In a medium bowl, beat the eggs with the water, then add the sour cream, oil, and vanilla. Beat until smooth. Add to the dry ingredients and beat well. Stir in the chocolate chips. Pour into crockpot. Cover slow cooker and cook on low for 6-8 hours, until top springs back when touched very lightly with finger. 8-10 servings. If desired, top each serving with a scoop of vanilla ice cream.

My mother was a very musical person. She played "by ear". I used to tease her about adding extra notes into the music she was playing. She would just smile and say "that's the way it's supposed to sound". While she was growing up, she studied piano, and she later became the organ player for the little country church the family attended. For many years, the only music in the church was provided by my mother. I have to smile every time I think of her getting carried away on the old foot pump organ, with the churchgoers as her captive audience. Mama also loved old sheet music, and she would often buy boxes of obscure sheet music at yard sales. She would then spend hours playing songs that no one had heard in many years. I am sure that Mama had a special place in Heaven reserved by the long-dead composers. She could see the worth in those yellowed pages, and then she added her own flourish. Mama was really very talented, and I am proud that she played the keyboards with such style, always wearing a big smile.

Mama's favorite pie:

“Lightning Lemon Meringue Pie”—That extra zing will make your taste buds tingle!”

1-1/2 cups sugar

6 tablespoons cornstarch

Dash salt

1-1/2 cups water

3 egg yolks, lightly beaten

2 tablespoons butter

1/3 cup lemon juice (about 3 lemons)

1 Tbsp. grated lemon peel

1 Tbsp. lime juice

1 pastry shell (9 inches), baked

MERINGUE:

3 egg whites, room temperature

1/2 teaspoon vanilla extract

1/4 teaspoon cream of tartar

6 tablespoons sugar

In a saucepan, combine sugar, cornstarch and salt. Stir in water. Cook and stir over medium-high heat until thickened. Reduce heat; cook and stir 2 additional minutes. Gradually stir in 1 cup of hot filling to egg yolks; return to saucepan. Bring to a boil. Cook, stirring constantly, for 2 minutes. Remove from heat. Stir in butter, lemon juice, lime juice, and peel. Pour hot filling into pastry shell.

For meringue, beat egg whites, vanilla and cream of tartar in a bowl at medium speed until soft peaks form. Add sugar gradually, 1 tablespoon at a time, beating on high until stiff and glossy. Immediately spread over pie, sealing edges to pastry. Bake at 350° for 12-15 minutes or until meringue is golden. Cool. Store in refrigerator. 

I live in a small town with few job opportunities. Years ago, I worked as a call center customer service representative. This was a high-paying non-labor job for my home area, which is dominated by factories and manual labor jobs. After seven years of business, the company closed its doors. Since I have a background in advertising and sales, I decided to promote not only the empty call center building, but the town, the people, and the whole way of life here in my home area. For five years, I worked on my own as an unpaid economic development aide. I made over 1000 contacts to possible employers for the call center, legislators, print and broadcast media, etc. Emails, snail mail, phone calls, person-to-person–however I could get the word out. I gave speeches, rode on political floats in parades, and was featured in a newspaper article by our largest regional newspaper. Some people applauded me, some people snubbed me, and some people asked me to run for office! 

After five years, a company did come to the call center. For the grand opening ceremony, I was the one who cut the ribbon. I worked for the company for over three years until they began to downsize and eventually lost their contract with our customer. I was unemployed for eighteen months. Losing your job through no fault of your own during the middle of a global recession is not for the faint of heart. What I have been through these last few years has left some permanent scars. I went back to work last year at the same facility for a different employer.

During my time of promoting economic development, I went through an amazing learning experience, not only about the ways and whys of the world, but also about myself. At the time of my great campaign, I also went back to school. One of my biggest milestones, and greatest celebrations involved starting college at age 43. I skipped a grade in elementary school, and graduated high school with honors at age 16. Due to family responsibilities, I immediately started working. Twenty eight years later, I finally became a college student. I was so worried that I would not “make the grade” in my college studies, but I pulled it off. I graduated “Summa Cum Laude” with a 4.0 grade average. Whew! Unfortunately, my studies only slightly improved my work situation, but they greatly improved my self-esteem. It’s never too late to try to improve yourself. One should never stop learning!
I am an apple lover from the great apple-producing state of VA:

Virginia Apple Joy Cake   3 eggs 1 teaspoon soda 1-1/2 cups oil 1 teaspoon salt 2 cups sugar 3 cups Virginia apples, chopped 1 teaspoon vanilla 1 cup pecans, chopped 3 cups all-purpose flour Beat eggs; add oil, sugar and vanilla. Sift together flour, soda and salt. Add flour mixture and beat well. Fold in apples and pecans. Bake in tube pan, 1 hour at 325 degrees Fahrenheit or until done. When cake is done, top with the glaze recipe below. Glaze 1/4 cup evaporated milk 1/2 stick margarine 1 cup brown sugar Cook 1-1/2 minutes and spread on cake. ==================================================

I hope you enjoy my recipes and reminiscences. Please share your own--I'd love to hear your thoughts!

Thank you Virginia. I'm looking forward to summer and the chance to get out there and try that garden again, and as always, you have me missing my old home and my family.

Choosing a Point of View

by C.J. Chase

One of the devices in a writer’s toolkit to create realistic, three-dimensional characters is point of view (POV). Consider, a novelist's job is to make fictitious people so real, the reader feels like he knows them. Judicious use of POV provides the frame of reference for the story and creates a bond between the reader and characters. There are three major POVs in common usage.

First person POV creates the most intimacy between the reader and the character. In a first person story, the narrator is a character who addresses the reader directly—like friends chatting over coffee. The narrator and reader bond because they spend the entire story together.

A reader can immediately tell first person because the narrator calls himself (or herself) “I” and “me.” “Call me Ishmael” begins the narrator of Herman Melville’s Moby Dick. Or how about this favorite from my childhood? “The first place that I can well remember was a large pleasant meadow with a pond of clear water in it.” Yes, even a horse can be the narrator of a first person story.  

Third person POV adds a little more distance between the narrator and the story. The author chooses one character from the story and proceeds to present the story world through that person’s senses. We are limited to the character’s experiences—only what he can see, feel, smell, hear, or taste.

Third person is the most commonly used POV in modern commercial fiction. A very deep third-person POV is almost a first-person POV. Almost. For instance, this opening line could easily be changed in first person: “Too late, Crispin Worthington discovered he hated dying even more than he hated his father.”

So why use third person instead of first? Third person keeps us at a bit more distance than first person, so an author can more easily switch to another POV character in the next scene or next chapter. A common structure for mysteries and thrillers is to open the story in a villain or vicitm’s POV, and then switch to the hero (protagonist) at the beginning of the next chapter. Back and forth, the POV changes from villain to hero. While each shift adds a bit of distance from the reader (because with each switch, the reader must adjust to seeing the world from another perspective) it adds tension. The reader now knows more than any one character.

In omniscient POV, the narrator is even further removed from the characters, like a bird in the sky reporting on events below. Omniscient allows us to peek into any character’s thoughts, but because we aren’t intimately connected to any single character, it is the most distant.

“It was the best of times, it was the worst of times…” That is the narrator’s opinion. We don’t know if Sidney Carlton or Charles Darnay agreed. Indeed, they had no notion of what was about to befall them. Or how about this gem? “It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune, must be in want of a wife.” Rather than a character relaying this opinion, the author has stepped into the story to address the reader.

The Bible is the story of God stepping into history to address all of humanity. Omniscience (Latin for “all knowing”) is a characteristic of God. And yet, just like a reader of a story told in omniscient POV, how often have I kept the Omniscient, Omnipotent and Omnipresent God at a distance? Guilty, far too many times.

A writer creates intimacy between the reader and a character by having them spend time together. It is the same in our relationship with God. Only by spending time with Him will we gain intimacy with him.

The God who already knows every aspect of our being wants us to know him—more intimately than a first person novel. He gave us approximately 1,000 pages of revelation of his POV. "And I will give them an heart to know me" says God in Jeremiah. "Take my yoke upon you, and learn of me" invites Jesus. "In reading this, then, you will be able to understand my insight into the mystery of Christ," Paul told the Ephesians.

Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a bit of reading to do!

Do you have a favorite point of view? Do you enjoy stories told in first person or do you prefer third person? 

After leaving the corporate world to stay home with her children, C.J. Chase quickly learned she did not possess the housekeeping gene. She decided writing might provide the perfect excuse for letting the dust bunnies accumulate under the furniture. Her procrastination, er, hard work paid off in 2010 when she won the Golden Heart for Best Inspirational Manuscript and sold the novel to Love Inspired Historicals. Redeeming the Rogue was an August, 2011 release. You can visit C.J.'s cyber-home (where the floors are always clean) at cjchasebooks.com

Hidden Message in Lincoln's Watch

By Lisa Karon Richardson

1861 was a significant year in US History. The whole nation seemed to poise on a teeter-totter just waiting to plunge into war. And yet, the normal exigencies of human existence continued. Despite the momentous events in Washington and Richmond, clothes still required washing. Heedless of the cataclysm developing, people had to keep paying their bills. And even something as reliable as a pocket watch might need to be sent for repair.

In fact, Abraham Lincoln’s watch was in the shop when news of the attack on Fort Sumter reached Washington D.C.

On April 30, 1906, The New York Times interviewed 84-year-old Jonathan Dillon. He was the watchmaker repairing Lincoln’s watch. The owner of the shop, M.W. Galt and Co, brought news of the battle to his employees. Dillon then unscrewed the dial of the watch, and scratched a message on the metal beneath:

‘The first gun is fired. Slavery is dead. Thank God we have a President who at least will try.’

He signed and dated the inscription and closed the dial. To his knowledge no one ever saw the inscription.

By 2009 the Smithsonian Institute had acquired the watch. After being contacted by Dillon’s great-great-grandson, with the bit of family lore, the museum agreed to open up the watch and see if the watchmaker’s message was indeed inside.

Unlike Geraldo’s search for Al Capone’s treasure, the museum did find a message inscribed on the brass underside of the movement. The inscription was worded differently than Mr. Dillon had recalled. The actual engraving says:

‘Jonathan Dillon
April 13-1861
Fort Sumpter [sic] was attacked by the rebels on the above date J Dillon
April 13-1861
Washington Thank God we have a government
Jonth Dillon’

It appears that Mr. Lincoln never knew or suspected the message he carried inside his watch. And for some reason I find the whole episode fascinating. The compulsion to record history seems to be fairly commonplace. But to record your words secretly, and to literally carve them into metal? I wonder if he meant them as a blessing or a kind of talisman?

--With thanks to the Smithsonian Institute

Do you keep a journal or diary? Have you heard of any similar stories of hidden messages coming to light generations after they were left behind? What message would you like to pass down?

Influenced by books like The Secret Garden and The Little Princess, Lisa Karon Richardson’s early books were heavy on boarding schools and creepy houses. Now that she’s (mostly) all grown-up she still loves a healthy dash of adventure and excitement in any story she creates, even her real-life story. She’s been a missionary to the Seychelles and Gabon and now that she and her husband are back in America, they are tackling a brand new adventure, starting a daughter-work church in a new city. Her novella, Impressed by Love, part of the Colonial Courtships collection, is coming in October, 2012. And in November The Magistrate’s Folly is coming from Heartsong Presents.

Cherry Blossom Capers Author Lynette Sowell

by Lynette Sowell

Welcome To Hollywood!

I was asked to blog on current events, and for those of us who like pop culture, a big annual current event has started taking place: American Idol auditions. Tens of thousands of people wait hours for their minute or less in front of the Idol judges, and all of them hoping to hear three little words. The sheer number of auditions truly boggles the mind. Do tens of thousands of people really want to be a star? You know, there's the ones who get their few minutes of fame in ridiculous costumes. Or the non-singer. "Yeah, I'm terrible, but that's why I should be on American Idol!" (Huh?)

One of the thing I love about the auditions is the happy surprises—seeing a “regular” person step up in front of Randy, Jennifer, and Steven, and without accompaniment, move them to tears in a good way. It's fun to watch my favorite competitors move up through the ranks as they grow into performers and realize a dream come true.

Of course, the flips side shows us the tears, the dashed hopes, the bewildered looks of the ones who didn't make it? I understand the tears. I'm fiercely competitive and hate to lose, even against myself. I'm no stranger to disappointment. When I was in kindergarten, I said wanted to be a TV star. That's what my mom wrote in my school days book that contained pictures and tidbits of my school years.

Did you see the young woman who always felt like she was in her twin sister's shadow? She thought making it to American Idol would pull her out of that shadow. It was heartbreaking to hear her sing, because, well, she wasn't very good at it. She hinged her hopes for a “change” on one chance that came and went. I wanted to tell her, “Honey, you are beautiful and talented in your own way. Don't depend on a show to bring that out in you.”

What many AI hopefuls want is to belong, to know they're special. Don't we all? We dream of being a part of something big, something important. Whatever dream we cherish, we think, "Oh, if I could only make it to Hollywood, my life would be so much better!" We want to belong, to be accepted. We want to shine.

One of the things I'm learning is oh so simple, yet oh so hard to get: I've already made it to Hollywood. SomeOne hangs on my every word. To Him, I'm a superstar. Flawed, human, but worthy of loving. He's got bigger plans for me than any record label. He thinks I shine. Doesn't make sense, does it? But that's grace. That's real love. That's bigger than any idol. My disappointments in this life--and there have been many, should I choose to go back and think about each one--pale in comparison. My God is able to do exceedingly abundantly, above and beyond, more than I can ask or think. I've got it made. I hope you learn that truth for yourself too.

~*~

Lynette Sowell is the award-winning author of five novels and six novellas for Barbour Publishing. When Lynette's not writing, she divides her time between editing medical reports and writing a column for her local newspaper. Lynette was born in Massachusetts, raised on the Eastern Shore of Maryland, but makes her home on the doorstep of the Texas hill country with her husband and a herd of cats who have them well-trained. She loves reading, cooking, watching movies, and is always up for a Texas road trip. You can visit Lynette's author page on Facebook to learn more about her books at: https://www.facebook.com/lynettesowellauthor

"State Secrets" in CHERRY BLOSSOM CAPERS

Tara Whitley, an assistant White House chef, doesn’t expect to become an amateur investigator when old flame and FBI operative Jack Courtland steps back into her life and recruits her to help uncover a plot to sabotage the next State Dinner. But she doesn’t expect Jack to uncover feelings for him she thought had died. Can she trust him with her safety, and her heart? Join Tara and her three neighborhood friends in Cherry Blossom Capers as they follow dangerous paths to love.

~Cherry Blossom Capers~
Four women encounter love, danger, and mystery beyond their neighborhood near Washington D.C. Tara Whitley, assistant chef at the White House, helps FBI agent Jack Courtland unmask a State dinner saboteur. Attorney Ciara Turner and her nemesis Daniel Evans investigate a judge's murder. Archeologist intern Samantha Steele almost loses her nerve and children when she and security guard Nick Porter investigate a forgery at Mount Vernon. Coffee shop owner Susan Holland and builder Vince Martini encounter danger in her late uncle's mansion. Can these couples trust God with their lives and love as they track down killers and culprits?

Cherry Blossom Capers Blog
http://cherryblossomcapers.blogspot.com/

Find it at Amazon, CBD, Or Barnes & Noble:
http://www.amazon.com/Cherry-Blossom-Capers-Romancing-America/dp/1616266465/ref=ntt_at_ep_dpt_3
http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/cherry-blossom-capers-cara-putman/1104274011?ean=9781616266462&itm=1&usri=cherry+blossom+capers

We're (Not) Number 1!

by Susanne Dietze

...you shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, with all your soul, with all your mind, and with all your strength.’ This is the first commandment. Mark 12:30

What a night. I had Bible study in the morning, but I hadn’t yet finished my homework. I slumped at the dining room table, trying to make myself finish it but learn something at the same time. Meanwhile, the questions seemed impossible, and the words of 1 Thessalonians hurt my head, as if they were difficult math problems. I almost cried.

My husband said, “I think you’ve hit the wall.”

Of course I had. It had been a Week with a capital “W.”

We all have them. Stuff gets packed into the calendar, but, of course, other things happen to complicate matters. That week, I didn’t write at all. Or do Bible study. Or clean anything. My days were crammed with appointments and events, interspersed with unforeseen, desperate errands to find cream-colored footless tights, spherical beads of a particular shade of orange, and floral wire.

I even hiked around a bulk yard bagging dirt for my son’s science fair project … which, of course, didn’t work out right.

Frustrated and filthy one evening from working with all that science project dirt, I sent my frustrated and filthy kid off to the shower before bed. Three minutes later, he called me in to look at something weird on his leg.

Which turned out to be a black widow spider bite.

He was fine (antibiotics and a tetanus booster did the trick), but the experience was jolting and scary. I was a bit of a wreck, even the following night when I tried to do my Bible study. So yes, my husband was right. I had hit the wall.

I decided I wouldn’t go to Bible study the next day.

The following morning, I was praying before I got out of bed. Feeling a little guilty about skipping Bible study, I moaned something like, “I don’t know what to do, God. I know I should go, but I have so much to do.”

And God spoke to my heart. “Put me first.”

Three words. Totally Biblical ones, too.

But seek first His kingdom and His righteousness... Matthew 6:33

Lately, I’d not put God first. And I'd been wrong to do so. I decided to go to Bible study, to delve into His precious word, to worship Him, and to learn about Him, even though I didn't feel like it. I was able to complete most of my study homework and get to class on time.

I also repented of not making God my highest priority. It’s easy for me to put Him on hold while I dash about, running myself ragged. But how can I expect to be the wife, mom, friend, and servant He wants me to be if I don’t make Him the most important thing in my life? How can I write a novel that pleases Him if I don’t show He means more to me than the other desires of my heart?

You shall have no other gods before me. Exodus 20:3

Sometimes we can’t go to church, Bible study, or something else God has called us to, due to illness or travel or special events. But I’ve recognized I don’t always pray first about my priorities before making choices, big or small.

And the truth is, life will never be smooth, simple, or ordered. At least, not for long. Life gets messy, scary, obnoxious, hectic, and troublesome. Regardless of circumstances, events, or schedules, God is #1--whether we acknowledge His rightful place or not. He deserves to be our #1 no matter what's going on with us or how we feel. I often fall short here, but I’m working on it.

In the meantime, we tease my kid that maybe it was a radioactive spider that bit him, ala Spiderman, even though privately, I’m still scared by the experience. The event will always be tied in my memory to the lesson that I’ve failed to make God my #1.

Isn’t He good, keeping us in His arms, no matter what we do or don’t do?

Question: Are you thankful for something you don’t deserve?

 

Susanne Dietze has written love stories since she was in high school, casting her friends in the starring roles. Today, she writes in the hope that her historical romances will encourage and entertain others to the glory of God. Married to a pastor and the mom of two, Susanne loves fancy-schmancy tea parties, travel, and spending time with family and friends. Her work has finaled in the Genesis, Gotcha!, Phoenix Rattler, and Touched By Love Contests.