Maureen Lang's Blog, page 5

My husband and I belong to a small group of fellow Christians where we explore various Bible studies and discuss topics relevant to our faith—all the while enjoying friendships and community with people we’ve grown to love over the years. Recently someone asked what makes us feel loved by God. My first thought, after having lived with my Physics-teaching husband for so many years, was Jupiter.

The red spot on Jupiter reveals a comet’s impact in 1993, saving planet earth.

While there are many reasons to think the Creator of this earth wants us to know Him through His creation, to delight in the many gifts of color and beauty and nearly endless variety, it’s the fine tuning of the Universe that impresses me most. Without planets like Jupiter, Saturn, Uranus and Neptune to act as shields for us against meteors and comets, earth would suffer life-ending impacts on a fairly regular basis. It’s just one of the many miracles that sustain us, like the Moon regulating our tides, or the size of our sun and our placement in the solar system, the right amount of solar wind, earth’s exact tilt and orbit around the parent star (our sun), the right thickness of the earth’s crust, the right amount of oxygen/nitrogen, the right amount of oceans and continents for advance life to develop, and on and on too many things to list here (not to mention well beyond my comprehension!).

It’s enough for me to know that Jupiter, at just the right distance because of its size and gravitational pull, acts as a shield for us here on earth. Just one more lovely example of how God placed us here to enjoy the gift of life, to discover His love on this testing ground before joining Him in eternity.

Next time you look up at a starry sky, thank God for His love. Jupiter is just one huge gift from our Creator to us.

Image courtesy of Bing Free Images

Over the weekend I attended an event that included an icebreaker game. We were to introduce ourselves not just with our name, but with an interesting fact no one would ever guess about us.

I may not have mentioned this before, but I dislike icebreakers. Intensely. I suppose that’s because I’m an introvert, and such things force me to step outside my shell—that’s the point, right? So I’m sitting there trying to think of something about myself that another person might find remotely engaging.

All I come up with are things about my family. How my grandmother’s hair reportedly turned white overnight, after the sudden death of her young and only daughter. How she survived the deaths of three of her four children, lived through two world wars, went through a nasty divorce and eventually married again, a man who worked on the Panama Canal and fought in World War One. How my father persuaded her to sign a permission form for him to join the Navy when he was just 17 years old (I cannot imagine doing that for my son).

Then there’s my dad himself, who started his Navy ship experience on the USS Oklahoma which was doomed to sink at Pearl Harbor. But he was no longer on that ship then, although it turned out to be a delay and not an exemption from war tragedy. He’d volunteered for Asiatic duty and worked in the engine room on a gun boat on the Yangtze River—until his boat was sent to help defend the Philippines, where he was taken prisoner by the Japanese and spent the next three and a half years in various Japanese prison camps.

You know what I’ve noticed about interesting lives? They certainly fit the old Chinese curse about living in interesting times. There is obviously a direct correlation between tragedy and interesting, even if one of the positive results can be evidence of being a survivor.

Of course none of those interesting facts were about me, so I couldn’t use any of this. Since it was a group of parents whose kids have one kind of disability or another, I didn’t want to share our diagnosis story because presumably every other parent there had one as well—it wasn’t something we wouldn’t be able to guess about one another. As tragic as it was to learn I was the carrier for a genetic disease and that for a time we feared my daughter could be a carrier too, while I was pregnant with another child who could have been affected as well, (neither of which turned out to be true) I avoided that interesting phase of my life.

All I could come up with is that I’m an author. Even today in this age of widespread publishing made easier and more affordable by online publishing, people still seem to find this interesting. But I felt as if I’d cheated a little, since writing is something God wired me to do. It’s a job, and I firmly believe whenever we find the job God wired us to do it’s the most natural thing for us to do. I guess that’s why I don’t feel like taking credit for it, it’s too much a part of me and my everyday life.

Perhaps you like icebreakers better than I do. This may be one you either want to play, suggest, or at least be prepared for!

This week I’m pleased to introduce Margaret Daley’s newest book, Severed Trust – the 4th book in her Men of the Texas Rangers series. But don’t worry about which to read first because each story stands on its own.

Make sure you scroll down to read a sample of the story! Margaret has included the Prologue and First Chapter for you to enjoy!

 

Severed Trust, 4th book in Men of the Texas Rangers

 

By Margaret Daley

 

October 2013

 

Abingdon Press

 

 

About Severed Trust:

 

The day Sadie Thompson finds her high school student, Lexie, asleep in class and can’t wake her is the day she realizes how entrenched a prescription drug ring is in her school. As Sadie is pulled into doing something about the growing problem, she becomes involved with Ethan Stone—a Texas Ranger who suspects the drug ring reaches far beyond the high school. Helping Lexie recover from the overdose, Sadie feels she is making a difference—until the 16-year-old’s best friend dies from the apparent mixing of various prescription drugs. Lexie doesn’t think her friend took her own life, but her relationship with her Uncle Ethan is precarious and she doesn’t know if either he or Sadie will help her discover the truth.

 

 

RT Book Review Magazine:

 

“Daley addresses the growing trend and popular misconception that prescription medications are not dangerous — which couldn’t be further from the truth — and does not sugarcoat the stark reality that no one is invincible in book four of the Men of the Texas Rangers series. Chapters ending in cliffhangers leave readers thinking “just one more!” This thoroughly engaging novel is filled with fast-paced suspense and a touch of romance.” 4 ½ stars, Top Pick by Leslie McKee

 

 

 

Buy at Amazon

 

Buy at Barnes and Noble

 

Buy at Christianbooks.com

 

Prologue

 

 

 

Standing at the gravesite, I stare at the coffin, my mom inside. Dead. I don’t understand. Why did she do it? Leave me and Dad?

 

           

 

I glance at my father next to me, tears running down his face, and my own stay clumped in my throat. An ache spreads through my whole body.

 

           

 

Memories of a few days before trying to wake up Mom send the terror through me all over again. I close my eyes, not wanting to remember, only to picture her sprawled on her bed, an empty bottle of pills next to her.

 

           

 

I rub my hands across my face, trying to scrub the image from my mind.

 

           

 

As the crowd thins, my aunt approaches Dad. “I have some ladies from the church lined up to bring food over. Are you sure you don’t want Bob and me at your house today? As they bring it, I can take care of it for you. You won’t have to worry about anything.”

 

           

 

“No. I want to be left alone. Cancel them.”

 

           

 

“I know you’re hurting. You shouldn’t be alone at this time.”

 

           

 

My dad leans forward, his face inches from my aunt’s. “Don’t tell me what I need. I need her.”

 

           

 

My aunt pulls my father away a few steps and lowers her voice, but not enough that I don’t hear what she says. “Paige was sick. She didn’t mean to kill herself.”

 

           

 

Dad jerks away from my aunt, grabs my hand and tugs me toward the car. People try to stop him, but he ignores them.

 

           

 

“Mom killed herself?” I ask as he drives toward our home.

 

           

 

He doesn’t say anything.

 

           

 

“How?”

 

           

 

Still silent.

 

           

 

“Dad?”

 

           

 

He pulls into the driveway and twists toward me. “She didn’t want to be with us. She took sleeping pills so she never had to wake up.”

 

           

 

Mom? Leave us on purpose? No, she loved me.

 

           

 

“Go to Tommy’s house and play with him.” He pushes open his door and stomps to the house.

 

           

 

I don’t know what to do. Tears finally flood my eyes. I blink and climb from the car. Instead of going to Tommy’s across the street, I trudge toward the porch. I need Dad. I need to understand.

 

           

 

When I put my hand on the doorknob and turn it, a loud blast coming from inside, like a car backfiring, echoes through the air.

 

 

 

1

 

 

Fingering the necklace Jared had given her for her seventeenth birthday, Kelly Winston cracked her bedroom door open. When she peeked out, her mother strode toward the staircase. Releasing a swoosh of air, Kelly snuck down the hall to her mom’s bathroom and pulled out the middle drawer where she kept her supply of medicine.

 

 

Kelly picked up the first bottle of a painkiller her mother had started taking last winter after her car wreck. Kelly shook one into her palm. She grabbed the next bottle, not sure what these pills were, but she pocketed several of them anyway, then moved on to the next medication, an old one for anxiety her mom had taken when Dad divorced her and moved away. She took three of them.

 

 

“Kelly,” her mother yelled from the foyer downstairs.

 

 

She shot straight up, her heart pounding, but she didn’t hear any footsteps approaching.

 

 

“Your date is here.”

 

 

She drew in a deep breath to calm her rapid heartbeat and quickly closed the drawer. “Coming, Mom.”

 

 

She stuffed the pills she’d taken into her jean pocket and hurried from her mother’s bathroom before she came looking for her. When Kelly saw Jared standing next to her mom in the foyer, she smiled and nodded once.

 

 

His mouth curving up, a dimple appearing in his left cheek, he winked at her.

 

 

“When are you going to be home?” her mother asked as she walked toward the kitchen.

 

 

“The party lasts until midnight so after that.”

 

 

“Don’t wake me when you come in. I’m exhausted and hope to go to bed early.”

 

 

“I won’t,” Kelly said, right before closing the front door. It was so easy to stay out when her mother took a sleeping pill. Mom would be out until tomorrow.

 

 

“What did you get?” Jared rounded the front of his Porsche.

 

 

After sliding into the front seat, she dug the dozen pills out of her pocket and laid her palm out flat to show him. “Painkillers, sleeping pills, and an assortment of others. Is that what you wanted?”

 

 

“You did great. This will be fun.”

 

 

“Are you sure your friends will be okay with me coming?”

 

 

“You’re my girlfriend. We’ve been dating for over two months.” At the stoplight, Jared looked at her, his blue eyes gleaming with male appreciation. “You’re the most beautiful girl at Summerton High School. I’ll be the envy of every guy at the party.”

 

 

Though his words flattered her, Kelly’s nerves tensed throughout her body. This was her first pill party. She’d heard of them from some of the other girls. She’d always wanted to be a part of the in crowd. Tonight she would be. Finally. All because Jared Montgomery, a hottie and a senior, had started dating her when she became one of the junior cheerleaders— after years of honing her skills and dieting constantly.

 

 

When Jared parked behind a warehouse, Kelly glanced at some of the other expensive cars. A few she recognized. “The party is here?”

 

 

“Yeah. This place isn’t in use right now. Perfect for what we want to do. Ready?”

 

 

She nodded, laying her quivering fingers on the door handle.

 

 

He clasped her shoulder, stopping her from leaving the car. “Just do what the others do. It’s a small group of my closest friends. You’ll be fine. This is such a rush. You’ll see what I mean tonight.”

 

 

Peering at him, she fortified herself with the knowledge he told her he loved her last week. All the kids were doing this. What harm could a few prescription drugs really do? They were all prescribed for someone to take. Her mom took several every day. It wasn’t the same as taking illegal drugs like meth or crack. Those could seriously mess with her mind.

 

 

As they walked toward the back entrance to the warehouse, hidden from the street, Jared grasped her hand, brought it to his lips, and kissed her knuckles. “Stay close and I’ll take care of you.”

 

 

His gaze connected with hers. Her stomach flip-flopped. He could always do that—make her feel so special. She certainly didn’t get any affirmation from her mother or her father who lived in Chicago and couldn’t be bothered with her.

 

 

Before going in, Jared tipped her face up and kissed her, then pushed the door open.

 

 

The beat of the music pulsated in the air. Four teens sat or stood around the huge cavernous warehouse—bare of any items as far as Kelly could see, except for a few crates used for the party. Beyond the pool of light, darkness lingered as though a black curtain encircled a small part of the building, cordoned off for the pill party.

 

 

Jared retrieved two beers from a cooler and passed one to Kelly. She hated the taste but noticed all the other kids had one. She’d pretend she liked it.

 

 

“Let’s put our drugs in the bowl. When everyone arrives, we’ll grab a handful and take them with the beer.” Jared pulled a wad of pills from his pocket.

 

 

“Then what?”

 

 

“We drink, dance, and wait. For some nothing much happens. Dud pills. Others get a rush, feel euphoric. Either way, we forget our problems and have fun.” He released his pills to fall into a large plastic bowl where there were a lot of drugs in various colors and sizes.

 

 

Kelly uncurled her hand, and the ones she brought tumbled on top of the others, then she took a swig of beer, suppressing her gag reflex.

 

 

Jared tapped his can against hers and then lifted his drink, downing probably half of it. “C’mon. We need to catch up with everyone. We’ll be floating in no time. Not a care in the world, especially the English test you have on Monday.”

 

 

While she tilted the can to her lips, he slung his arm over her shoulder and cradled her against him. His sweet action reinforced why she was here in the first place.

 

 

Jared loves me and won’t let anything bad happen to me.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

Her throat parched, Kelly swayed in the middle of the lit area with several teens slumped on the concrete floor. The light and dark swirled before her. She searched for Jared and found him where he’d been before she’d gone to see if there was something to drink. The coolers had been empty. To ease her dryness, she’d considered cupping her hands into the melted ice, but she didn’t.

 

 

Kalvin Majors stumbled and fell into a stand with a light. It crashed to the floor and shattered. He continued wandering around in a circle, shouting every once in a while, “Go Eagles.”

 

 

Kelly returned to the darker area because the room didn’t seem to spin as much. She plopped down and crumpled back against a post. Jared lay not far away, and no matter how much she’d tried earlier to get him up, she couldn’t. He’d just batted at her as if she were an annoying fly pestering him.

 

 

Another girl, Zoe, was stretched out on the floor moaning, while Luke, who was in several of her classes, vomited. The stench assailed her nostrils, and she almost hurled. She cupped her hand over her mouth and closed her eyes.

 

 

This isn’t fun. I want to go home.

 

 

She crawled toward Jared, afraid to try standing. When she reached him, she shook his shoulder hard. Nothing. At least before, he would mumble or groan, but this time he didn’t do anything. Cradling his face between her hands, she intended to yell at him until he woke up.

 

 

His skin felt cold, but it was hot in here. How could he be so cold? Her mind fumbled around trying to grasp onto something she should realize. Did she stick her hands into the ice water after all?

 

 

“Jared! Wake up!”

 

 

Someone—Brendan maybe—said, “Pipe down.”

 

 

She didn’t care. Increasing her volume, she shouted his name over and over.

 

 

Kelly lifted his arm to pull him up and get him outside into the fresh air. His limp arm was dead weight, making it hard to budge him at all. Finally, the effort zapped all her energy, her world spinning faster than before. She collapsed on top of Jared. A black veil descended . . .

 

 

 

Someone jostled Kelly, pushing her off her comfortable pillow. She blinked, a harsh light glaring in her eyes.

 

 

“He’s dead,” a frantic female voice shrieked, piercing through Kelly’s dazed mind.

 

 

Dead? Kelly struggled to focus on the two blurs standing over another blur.

 

 

“We’ve got to get him out of here. This is my dad’s warehouse.”

 

 

“And do what?” the girl screamed.

 

 

“Don’t know. Can’t leave him in here.”

 

 

Kelly curled up into a ball, the cold concrete against her cheek. She wanted to open her eyes again. To see what was happening but the darkness beckoned. If she slept a little longer, she would be okay.

 

 

A scraping sound penetrated the haze in her mind, but she kept moving toward the black.

 

 

Slam.

 

 

She jerked, then folded in on herself even more. Now running toward the dark void where she could escape . . .

 

 

Kelly rolled unto her back, the cold hardness beneath her demanding she wake up. She tried forcing her eyelids up but only managed to open them a slit. Through her narrow vision a face loomed close. The darkness surrounding her made it hard to see who it was. Blue eyes? Jared?

 

 

But no matter how much she tried, she couldn’t keep her eyes from shutting again. Her mind in a fog, she allowed it to swallow her up.

 

Over the weekend my husband and I were talking about how there are at least two kinds of destruction. One is by man and the other by God.

Although the result of destruction from either source can be devastating, we were observing that when God destroys something there is often beauty in it. Consider a wildfire, set off by lightning. First the lightning is beautiful in its way, and fire is mesmerizing. After these fires do their worst, the land is rejuvenated for new growth strengthened by the nutrients in the soil left behind after the fire.

On the opposite end of devastation from fire is devastation from floods. Water in a house can leave us with all kinds of problems, including mold. But in nature, if there aren’t any homes in the way of the flood, this kind of destruction benefits the land because of sediment deposits left behind when the waters recede.

Earthquakes, volcanoes, rock/mudslides, tornadoes — they all reveal an awesome power, and if societies didn’t live in the wake of these disasters we would stand back and be impressed by the powers of nature that sustain our planet and keep it viable for us to inhabit.

Each one of those little black dots is debris orbiting our earth . . . space junk we left up there.

Man’s destruction, on the other hand, is often not nearly as impressive. Take for example all of the debris floating up in space. Go and see the movie Gravity for a picture of just how ugly that destruction is (which is what inspired this conversation to begin with).

 

Or the destruction left behind by war, or economic ruin.

Ruins of Chateau Thierry, France, WWI

 

 

 

 

 

Abandoned building in economically devastated Detroit.

 

 

 

 

 

Thought for the week: Examples of man’s version of destruction (ugly, without benefit) and God’s (often beautiful but always with a purpose).

This week I’d like to talk a little about writing. I was inspired to write this after watching TCM (Turner Classic Movie channel) when a snippet of an interview with Alfred Hitchcock came on, the one in which he talks about a plot device called a MacGuffin: some object or emotion that the hero or heroine lacks or is searching for. It’s something vital to the characters but other than a brief explanation, little or no detail is really needed as to why it’s so important. The key is that the audience doesn’t really care so long as it makes sense on the surface; they want to enjoy the ride along the way.

Examples:

In his interview, Hitchcock used the uranium cache in his movie Notorious. What everyone really cares about is the dangerous and yet romantic triangle that develops between Ingrid Bergman, Cary Grant and Claude Rains when Grant recruits Bergman to infiltrate a spy ring with former acquaintance Rains. Evil Nazi Spies are after uranium to build an atom bomb, but who really cares? What keeps the eyes glued to the screen is Bergman’s increasing danger of being found out and Grant’s increasing concern for her.

Legendary artifacts can be MacGuffins, too, and have been used in movies like Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade or the ark of the covenant in a later movie, or even Monty Python and the Holy Grail. These characters could be chasing just about anything—the audience doesn’t really care, except they know whatever it is, it’s important to the people they’re cheering on—and to the villain in the way.

MacGuffins aren’t always tangible. They can be emotion, too—such as approval or pride or power, even survival. In survival stories what the audience is looking for is how the protagonists meet their challenge and what it takes to get there. Remember the old Perils of Pauline stories? According to Wikipedia, Pearl White who starred in those short silent films called these kinds of devices weenies—anything of value to the world (or at least to Pauline) that inspired a villain to go after her. It was the perilous journey the audience wanted to see, and so long as whatever stood in the way made a bit of sense, that was all it took for a satisfying story.

MacGuffins are probably best known for use in movies, perhaps most often in thrillers or mysteries because it was Hitchcock who made the term famous. In a thriller or mystery, we know the good guy will face a daunting challenge but will win out in the end. But MacGuffins easily work in romantic fiction. In a romance, we know the hero and heroine are right for each other but to get to that conclusion they must overcome obstacles in their way. The audience cares more about the romantic journey than the intricacies beneath those obstacles.

As a writer, it can be easy to get caught up in MacGuffins, especially if you’re the type of person who likes understanding and explaining details. But it’s important to remember the audience cares more about the genre (the danger in a thriller or the growing emotion in a romance) than things that can side-track their attention almost to the point of annoyance. While MacGuffins must make sense, such as knowing how dangerous it would be if Nazi spies actually got hold of that uranium, we don’t need to know how uranium works in a bomb, where it came from, or exactly how the bad guys would use it.

Just one more element of writing that needs to be carefully balanced!

Here’s the latest from my friend Robin Lee Hatcher!

 

BELOVED

The latest in the series: Where the Heart Lives

Setting: 1900 Boise, Idaho

 

To say the least, it was inconsiderate of Diana’s almost-dead husband to show up at her 

engagement party.

Diana Brennan came west on the orphan train and was given a home with a loving couple who cherished and spoiled her. At 17, she fell hard for Tyson Applegate, the son of a wealthy mine owner. After a whirlwind courtship and marriage, Tyson took off for adventures around the world, including fighting with the Rough Riders in Cuba. Receiving no word from him in years, Diana’s infatuation with her dashing husband died an ugly death, and she is ready to move past the old pain and marry again, just as soon as Tyson is declared legally dead.

But when Tyson returns, claiming to be a changed man, he wants to reunite with his wife and run for the senate. While Diana suspects the election is his real reason for wanting her by his side, she agrees to maintain his home and to campaign with him, but when it is over, win or lose, she wants her freedom.

He agrees with one condition—she must give him a chance to change her mind about him.

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About the Author:

Best-selling novelist Robin Lee Hatcher is known for her heartwarming and emotionally charged stories of faith, courage, and love. She discovered her vocation after many years of reading everything she could put her hands on, including the backs of cereal boxes and ketchup bottles. Winner of the Christy, the RITA, the Carol, the Inspirational Reader’s Choice, and many other awards, Robin is also a recipient of the prestigious RWA Lifetime Achievement Award. She is the author of 70 novels and novellas with over four million copies in print.

Robin enjoys being with her family, spending time in the beautiful Idaho outdoors, reading books that make her cry, and watching romantic movies. Her main hobby (when time allows) is knitting, and she has a special love for making prayer shawls. A mother and grandmother, Robin and her husband make their home on the outskirts of Boise, sharing it with Poppet, the high-maintenance Papillon, and Princess Pinky, the DC (demon cat).

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A Note from Robin:

I love second chance love stories, and Tyson Applegate desperately needs a second chance with Diana. He easily won her the first time with his charm and good looks, but it will take more than that to make up for breaking her heart and cause her to love him again. Although I don’t have favorite books that I’ve written, I do have some favorite characters. Tyson and Diana are two of them. I wanted very much to give them a happy ever after ending.

Beloved  is the third and final book in the Where the Heart Lives series. Although I am careful to make each book stand alone, if readers want to get the first two books in the series, Belonging and Betrayal ebooks are on sale for $1.99 until September 30th. Easy purchase links to Amazon, B&N, and ChristianBook can be found by following the links to the book pages.

I love to hear from readers so I hope you’ll drop by my web site and blog (http://www.robinleehatcher.com) and visit me on Facebook. I always have a giveaway going on Goodreads, and readers can find the current giveaway on the home page of my web site. In addition, I frequently have a different giveaway going on the Rafflecopter tab on my Facebook Page. So be sure to check those out. And if you sign up for my newsletter, you get a free copy of my short story, The Huckleberry Patch.

Happy reading!

As many of you know who follow my blog, my oldest son suffers from Fragile X Syndrome. This means there is a protein missing from his brain that’s necessary for effective learning . .  . and so, learning is difficult. Fragile X is called a spectrum disorder because patients who have it can fall on a spectrum of affectedness. Some Fragile Xer’s are very high functioning. In fact, some girls with Fragile X Syndrome are so high functioning no one would ever guess they have it.

My son’s functional level has been at the two-year-old level for quite some time. But like most things that sound just awful on the surface, there are blessings even with this. He’s over 18 and has never once talked back to me. He smiles every day. He assumes everyone around him is happy to help him (including strangers, but that’s for another list).

As a mom who is getting older every day and feels it, I’ve been worrying more and more about the future. What will happen to my son when I’m no longer capable of caring for him? Even now, what happens to him when I’m not there, watching over him? What if he’s sick but doesn’t have the language to tell me something’s wrong? What if he wanders away from a group activity in school, or in special recreation, or lets himself out of the house in the middle of the night?

Oh, I have all kinds of worries!

As I mentioned, my son functions like a 2-year old, so his language is very limited. However, he often picks up phrases and repeats them at random. Providentially, during this summer where God has been drawing me closer to Him, one of the phrases my son has been using regularly is: “Don’t worry.”

Don’t you love God’s timing?

I’m never sure my son knows the meaning behind some of the words he repeats, but I can’t help but believe he knows the meaning behind these two words. Just this morning as I was getting him ready for the bus, I said it was chilly outside so he needed to wear a jacket even though I was letting him wear the shorts he prefers rather than long pants. Right on time, he said, “Don’t worry.” (But he did let me put his jacket on him anyway!)

Sometimes it’s easy to think God isn’t hearing our worries. I know God would rather we trusted Him than try carrying the burdens of life all by ourselves. The truth is He’s aware of all of our thoughts and emotions, and He’s still in control. Do bad things happen? Yes, of course. But nothing is a surprise to God.

So this week I’m striving to take a cue from my son. Don’t worry!

This past weekend I had the privilege to attend the American Christian Fiction Writers Conference. It’s amazing to see how this wonderful organization has grown through the years. I enjoyed my first conference with them over ten years ago, when there were around 100 people in attendance. This time there were over 600! We’ve outgrown yet another hotel, this time in Indianapolis, but while we all waited—and waited—for only 4 elevators to take us up and down from our rooms to the workshop and banquet levels, we had plenty of friends to chat with, wonderful teaching to learn from, and two incredible lessons from our keynote speaker Robin Jones Gunn.

Here are a few other personal highlights:

Spent time with my special friends:
Jill Eileen Smith and Deb Raney (top)
Me, Beth White and Carrie Turansky (seated)

 

At the annual banquet, I sat next to my good friend Beth White. Beth and I have gotten to know each other online but this was the first time we’ve had enough face-to-face time to really chat!

 

 

Had fun spending some out-of-town-time with one of my favorite local writers, Sherri Gallagher

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Shared some time (and meals!) with my wonderful agent, Rachelle Gardner, who helps me makes sense of this whole writing business.

 

 

Got to know one of my new favorite authors, Olivia Newport. I love this picture not only because I’m thrilled to call Olivia a new friend, but one of my oldest and closest friends Jill Eileen Smith happens to be in the background!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Shared a moment with fellow Christians Read bloggers, Jim Rubart and Beth Goddard. I also sat in Jim’s workshop which I’ll be sharing more about next week!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

(Visit our Christians Read blog any time by clicking here.)

 

 

Being an introvert, I’m usually happy to return home where (at least for a few hours a day) things are quiet and I’m in my regular routine. But conferences are such an enriching experience I’m grateful for the opportunity to reconnect with so many others who share this writing journey. What a blessing it is to sing praise songs with a room filled with others who understand this writing thing!

 

 

I’m taking a mid-week opportunity to share the news that I’m doing a giveaway on GoodReads! I’ll be giving away 5 copies of my most recent novel, All In Good Time, the story of Dessa Caldwell and Henry Hawkins—two people with pasts they’re not ready to share.

Here’s the description from the back cover:

DESSA CALDWELL HAS A DREAM:

to open Pierson House, a refuge for former prostitutes in Denver’s roughest neighborhood. But after exhausting all charitable donations, Dessa still needs a loan. Her last hope hinges on the owner of Hawkins National Bank.

HENRY HAWKINS HAS A SECRET:

he owns the most successful bank in town, but his initial capital came from three successful stage coach robberies. Though he’s Denver’s most eligible bachelor, to protect his past, he’s built a fortress around his heart that no one can penetrate . . . until the day Dessa Caldwell strolls into his bank requesting a loan.

Though he’s certain her proposal is a bad investment, Henry is drawn to Dessa’s passion. But that same passion drives her to make rash decisions about Pierson House . . . and about whom she can trust. One man might hold the key to the future of her mission—but he also threatens to bring Henry’s darkest secrets to light. As the walls around their hearts begin to crumble, Henry and Dessa must choose between their plans and God’s, between safety and love.

Click here to go to the GoodReads giveaway, or see the link below. This giveaway requires no purchase, and chances of winning depend upon the number of those who enter. The contest will end on October 10, 2013.

Happy Reading!

Goodreads Book Giveaway


All in Good Time
by Maureen Lang

Giveaway ends October 10, 2013.

See the giveaway details

at Goodreads.

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This past weekend I had the opportunity to spend some time with friends I’ve known literally my whole life. I don’t have to explain how good it is to get together with friends in general, but I wanted to take a moment to talk about how precious friendships are anyway—particularly those which have lasted the longest.

The best friendships are the kind that even when months (or longer!) have gone by, the moment you get together again, or pick up the phone and talk, your camaraderie is instantly reestablished. It’s as if you’ve talked every day and can laugh over the things you know they’ll laugh over, or commiserate in just the way you need. There’s a connection there, a comfortable-ness that even time can’t break.

Whether a person lives in a city or a small town, friendships still need time. How do you nurture something without spending time on it? It’s so easy to let the days go by filled with activities, but many things that demand our time these days don’t bring much community. Especially these days with online social networking. That offers a certain kind of community, one I’m grateful for since writing can be lonely, but lately I’m reminded that even a long, heartfelt exchange of emails cannot compare with face-to-face time spent in the company of someone you’ve known so long there isn’t a thing you need to explain. You just know how the other person is, and very likely why, just as they know you.

One of my oldest friends and I have committed to getting together every other week. Life sometimes gets in the way, but we both realize the importance of being intentional about getting together. Those heartfelt but vague promises of getting together “soon” too often don’t materialize, so my friend and I have avoided all that by setting up a regular appointment. For me, it’s like therapy. I get to talk to someone who knows just about everything about me and loves me anyway.

As a child I was a girl scout and we sang a song with a line something like this: Make new friends, but keep the old. One is silver and the other gold.

So this week I’m celebrating friends! Go out and hug one of yours this week.