Word of the Week – Just Kidding

by | Nov 7, 2011 | Word of the Week

I like the word “kid.” I use it with my children (do you know how hard it was for me to write that sentence without using the word “kid”? LOL), I use it for jests. It’s a standard part of my vocabulary. But I’ll never forget the substitute teacher in high school who said something about how his children were not young goats, so thank you not to use that word. And one of my critique partners recently caught me using it in the joking sense well before it would have been.
It seemed time to look it up. =)
“Kid” entered English with the meaning of “a young goat” round about 1200. It began being applied to children in 1590, though it was still slang at that point. It was accepted usage, however, by 1840 . . . and had in fact been a word used to describe skillful young thieves for 30 years before that. (One I didn’t know!)
The meaning of “playful tease” is from 1839 (which proves that it was a well accepted slang by then) and comes from the idea of “making a kid of, treating as a child.” Though those thieving youngsters used it to mean “coax, wheedle, hoax.”
So there you have it–a brief explanation of why we now kid our kids. 😉
On a side note, many of you know about the amazing author Sandi Rog and her battle with cancer this past year. If you haven’t heard yet about the fundraiser put together for her, please check it out at www.FundraiserForSandiRog.blogspot.com. It’s a really fun raffle with lots of prize “baskets” you can bid on with your donations, and you’ll find two that I helped put together, one of which is featured on the blog now, here. (The other isn’t up on the site yet, but keep tuned in for updates!) 
Please check this out and tell all your friends about it–it’s not only a fun chance to win some great prizes, but most of all it’s a way to help a wonderful woman who needs your prayers and support.

Faith on Fridays: I Corinthians 4

by | Nov 4, 2011 | Uncategorized

Today I thought I’d try out the New Living Translation as we continue in our online study of I Corinthians.

1 Corinthians 4

Paul’s Relationship with the Corinthians

 1 So look at Apollos and me as mere servants of Christ who have been put in charge of explaining God’s mysteries. 2 Now, a person who is put in charge as a manager must be faithful. 3 As for me, it matters very little how I might be evaluated by you or by any human authority. I don’t even trust my own judgment on this point. 4 My conscience is clear, but that doesn’t prove I’m right. It is the Lord himself who will examine me and decide.

 5 So don’t make judgments about anyone ahead of time—before the Lord returns. For he will bring our darkest secrets to light and will reveal our private motives. Then God will give to each one whatever praise is due.

 6 Dear brothers and sisters,[a] I have used Apollos and myself to illustrate what I’ve been saying. If you pay attention to what I have quoted from the Scriptures,[b] you won’t be proud of one of your leaders at the expense of another. 7 For what gives you the right to make such a judgment? What do you have that God hasn’t given you? And if everything you have is from God, why boast as though it were not a gift?

 8 You think you already have everything you need. You think you are already rich. You have begun to reign in God’s kingdom without us! I wish you really were reigning already, for then we would be reigning with you. 9 Instead, I sometimes think God has put us apostles on display, like prisoners of war at the end of a victor’s parade, condemned to die. We have become a spectacle to the entire world—to people and angels alike.

 10 Our dedication to Christ makes us look like fools, but you claim to be so wise in Christ! We are weak, but you are so powerful! You are honored, but we are ridiculed. 11 Even now we go hungry and thirsty, and we don’t have enough clothes to keep warm. We are often beaten and have no home. 12 We work wearily with our own hands to earn our living. We bless those who curse us. We are patient with those who abuse us. 13 We appeal gently when evil things are said about us. Yet we are treated like the world’s garbage, like everybody’s trash—right up to the present moment.

 14 I am not writing these things to shame you, but to warn you as my beloved children. 15 For even if you had ten thousand others to teach you about Christ, you have only one spiritual father. For I became your father in Christ Jesus when I preached the Good News to you. 16 So I urge you to imitate me.

 17 That’s why I have sent Timothy, my beloved and faithful child in the Lord. He will remind you of how I follow Christ Jesus, just as I teach in all the churches wherever I go.

 18 Some of you have become arrogant, thinking I will not visit you again. 19 But I will come—and soon—if the Lord lets me, and then I’ll find out whether these arrogant people just give pretentious speeches or whether they really have God’s power. 20 For the Kingdom of God is not just a lot of talk; it is living by God’s power. 21 Which do you choose? Should I come with a rod to punish you, or should I come with love and a gentle spirit?

~*~
 
I have young kids, so that last part really hits me. In fact, I just had a conversation like this with my daughter yesterday. After calmly urging her to listen to me for quite a while, I finally raised my voice and made her sit in a corner (old school, lol) for a few minutes. She said, at one point, “I don’t like it when you yell!” To which I replied, “Then listen before it comes to that.”
This is so often how we act spiritually. We choose not to listen to the loving admonitions and then can’t understand why we get yelled at. We think we know best, and that makes us prideful. I really love how Paul relates this whole section to a family dynamic.
The other thing to strike me was his feeling of being put on display before both men and angels. I’d welcome your thoughts on that.
Thoughtful About . . . Being Brave in the Dark

Thoughtful About . . . Being Brave in the Dark

by | Nov 3, 2011 | Thoughtful Thursdays, Uncategorized

Yesterday was a fun day. After the first chunk of home school, the kids and I went to the market (not the fun part). When we pulled back in at the house, my hubby was out on the porch, inspecting three large boxes that must have been delivered while I was gone and he at work in his basement office.
Now, we get deliveries regularly. But those looked like book boxes, and I knew for a fact we hadn’t ordered any more books (though not long ago we got several similar-looking deliveries for our WhiteFire titles). So I yell to my hubby, “Is it Annapolis??!!”
He looked up at me with that crooked smile that said, “Do I have x-ray vision all of a sudden?” and replied, “If I were to guess.”
Torn between frozens and the first glimpse of my book, I did what any author-woman would do. I asked David to pretty-please carry the books into the house and made a mad dash for the second (and last) load of groceries. Then promptly abandoned the food and dug the scissors out of the drawer.
Yeah, I was a little giddy as I opened it up, pulled out a mountain of white packing paper, and lifted my book out. The cover has a matte finish, just so ya know, and is even prettier than the online image. =) My biblicals both have glossy finishes, so at once this felt different. Not to mention the Joy of being surprised with it–I always knew when my WhiteFire books were coming.
Reality took all of 30 seconds to intrude as my kids said, “Yeah, great, Mommy. Can we have lunch now?” LOL. And so the day went on. More school. Writing. Dishes. Ballet. Peeling wallpaper off the walls at our new church. The glamor. 😉 But I kept one of those books on the table beside me, rest assured!
On our way back in at 7 last night, as we were coming yet again onto our porch, Rowyn (who had announced himself afraid of the dark five minutes earlier in the church parking lot) told me, “I’m brave in the dark now, Mommy. The light helps me be brave in the dark.”
I laughed and made a note to post that one on Facebook. But it also really hit home. So often when we’re going through life, we feel like we’re in the dark. No idea where our path might take us, sometimes not even sure we’re on the right one. It’s scary. It’s hard. It can be discouraging.
But it’s crucial that we realize we’re not in full dark. Even when the night surrounds us, there’s always a lamp there to make sure we don’t stumble–so long as we stay in its protective circle.
I can’t tell you how many times on this journey to publication I’ve felt like I’m standing alone in a vast, dark parking lot, with nothing but an ocean of blackness around me. But the Lord has shone that porch light on me through the years, guiding me where I needed to go. And when I followed, he then led me to a warm, bright kitchen. Filled with books with my name on their covers. =)
I know the journey’s not over. I’ll have to go back out in the night. Have to worry with sales numbers and new projects. Scary stuff! But I intend to emulate my wee one in this, and be brave in the dark.
Thanks to the Light that shines through the blackest night.
Remember When . . . Tea Came in Bricks?

Remember When . . . Tea Came in Bricks?

by | Nov 2, 2011 | Remember When Wednesdays, Uncategorized

Last week a friend of mine from Colonial Quills made mention of “brick tea.” Now, I had no idea what in the world she was talking about. Until this arrived in the mail yesterday:

The moment I withdrew this brick from its bag, the scent of tea wafted up to me. My daughter, who runs to the kitchen the moment she senses a package being opened, rushed out just then, saw the brown-paper-wrapped block, and said, “What’s that?” My answer was to hold it out and say, “Smell.”

You should have seen her eyes light up with delight and disbelief as she squealed, “Tea?!”

Tea has been a staple of many societies for centuries. But loose leaf tea is hard to transport, so back in the days of the silk road in Asia, the Chinese discovered that if they use forms to press the tea into standard sized bricks, they can transport them with ease, and the tea lasts through the journey.

This became such a standard that tea bricks could be used as currency, and this was the way most tea was transported for hundreds of years, all the way into the 19th century. So the tea tossed into Boston Harbor during the Boston tea party? That was bricks.

Naturally, when something is used so long, for so many purposes, there comes to be a rhyme and reason to each part of it.

I don’t know if you can read the label on this, but if you do, you’ll find its “translation”–what each part of it means.

The front of this particular brick has details that let buyers know that this tea comes from a company managed by more than one person, and is manufactured by Enterprise Company Tea and the Chinese Lee family.

The back of the brick is separated into squares that can be used as currency. One square, for instance, might equal the price of a chicken

In addition to being brewed, the tea traditionally pressed into bricks can also be eaten. I don’t intend to try that, gotta say, but I am looking forward to separating some, putting it into my tea ball, and brewing myself a nice cup of fine black tea . . . with history.

Story Time – Chapter One of LFY in Annapolis, Maryland!

Story Time – Chapter One of LFY in Annapolis, Maryland!

by | Nov 1, 2011 | Uncategorized

There is exactly one month until the release of Love Finds You in Annapolis, Maryland, and while I really don’t mean to keep featuring my own book on Tuesdays, lol, I just received permission to share the first chapter for promotional purposes, so I thought I’d pass along the sneak peek. =)

Chapter One
Endover Plantation, outside Williamsburg, Virginia
25 November 1783
Perhaps if Lark recited the pirate’s code  it would steal his attention. She could try standing on her head. Or if those options failed—as surely they would—she could throw herself to the floor before him.
Except Emerson Fielding was as likely to mistake her for a rug as to realize he ought to help her up. Lark indulged in a long sigh and cast her gaze out the window. The plantation lay dormant and brown.
Most days saw Papa and Wiley in Williamsburg, swapping stories at R. Charlton’s Coffeehouse. Emerson usually met them there, which was why this was the first she’d seen him in a month. Heaven knew he wanted only to see them, never her.
She wished her heart hadn’t fluttered when he entered the room. Wished the disappointment hadn’t followed so quickly when he barely glanced her way. Wished she had the courage to command his
attention…and he the sense to give it without her command.
Life would be so much easier if she weren’t in love with Emerson Fielding. But what young lady wouldn’t be captivated by those dark eyes, the strong features, the height that left him towering above
other men?
Today his hair was unpowdered and gleamed sable. He was in undress, his coat the common one he wore every day, unlike what he was sure to don for her birthday dinner that evening. His smile lit up
his eyes, his laugh lit up the room.
Neither one did he direct toward her.
Lark’s gaze flicked down to the emerald on her finger. Two years. Twenty-four months. Seven hundred thirty interminable days. Not that she was keeping account.
“Hendricks ought to be at the coffeehouse about now,” her brother said, standing. He tugged his waistcoat into place and tightened the band around his hair. “We have just enough time for a cup of chocolate with him.”
She would not sigh again, it would be redundant. Why protest the usual, even if today was supposed to be distinctive?
As if reading her mind, Wiley flashed a twinkling gaze her way and grinned. “Of course, you will want to wish my dear sister happy returns before we head out, Emerson. I shall go fetch my overcoat and
hat while you do so.”
For the first time in the two hours he had been there, Emerson looked her way. And like every time he looked her way, she wished she had more to offer his gaze. Perhaps if she shared the golden-haired
beauty of her mother and sister, his eyes mightn’t go empty upon spotting her.
He smiled the practiced smile gentlemen were taught to wear in company, not the earnest one he shared with her brother. “Are you having a pleasant birthday, darling?”
An unexpected wave of anger crashed over her. “Do you never tire of using endearments you don’t mean?”
Well, that earned a spark in his eyes. Not exactly one of delight or affection, though. “I take it you are not having a pleasant day. Well, perhaps I can brighten it.” He reached into his pocket, pulled out a box
covered in a scrap of printed calico.
She could manage no enthusiasm for what was sure to be another gift of jewels. He never seemed to grasp that she wanted no more things. She wanted his love—something he was either unwilling or incapable of giving. “What is it?”
His smile was right, teasing. But no secret knowledge nested in his expression. “Open it and see.”
“You haven’t any idea, have you?” She shook her head and looked out the window again as he strode toward her chair. His mother had undoubtedly foisted it upon him as he left, otherwise he wouldn’t have remembered what the date signified.
She often wondered if his mother had also foisted that first gift of jewels upon him two years before.
His breath hissed out. “Of course I know what it is, but you shan’t cajole it out of me. You will have to open it yourself to see.”
The wrapped box appeared under her nose. She took it, careful to avoid brushing his outstretched palm with her fingers. It would only make awareness shiver up her arm, an unnecessary reminder of her
unrequited attachment. Once she held it, though, she made no move to untie the ribbon.
Emerson shifted, impatience coming off him in waves. “Open it, Lark.”
She shook herself. “But of course. I am certain you wish to hasten to your coffee and conversation. What will the topic be today? Congresses, constitutions, or crop rotations?”
Wiley would have appreciated the alliteration. Emerson greeted it with a rudely arched brow. Tempted to return the insult and roll her eyes, she tugged at the bow. Unfolded the cloth. Lifted the lid of the
small wooden box.
Lessons in propriety had never covered how to handle a surprise like this. Lark gasped.
Emerson muttered a curse that proved he not only knew not what present lay inside, he disapproved of his mother’s selection.
She leapt to her feet and shoved the glittering diamond necklace into his stomach. “Absolutely not. I cannot accept that.”
His hand caught the box, but a war to rival the Revolution charged across his face. He wanted to take the jewels back, without question. But pride would not allow him. He held out the box. “Don’t be ridiculous. I want you to have it.”
An unladylike snort nearly slipped out. “Yes, that was apparent from your reaction. I will not, Emerson. Your sisters have told me of this necklace, and I shan’t accept the most valuable possession in the
Fielding family—especially when it becomes increasingly clear I will never be a member of said family.”
Thunder darkened his complexion. “What madness is this? You are my betrothed, and you will accept the gifts I give you.”
The emerald on her left hand felt heavy. “Perhaps what I ought to do is return the ones you have already given. They are naught but mockery.”
She reached for the clasp of the bracelet that matched the ring. Her breath caught when his fingers closed around her wrist. He all but growled. “You will do no such thing.”
“Prithee, why not?” Though she struggled to pull free, he held tight to her arm. “ ’Tis obvious you’ve no desire to make me your wife. For two years you have dodged every mention of nuptials, making a fool of me in front of our families and friends. For the life of me, I know not why you ever proposed. Release me.”
He shook his head. “Calm yourself, Lark. Is that what this is about? The blasted wedding date? Deuces, I would agree to any date you want, if you would just be reasonable!”
“I have had my fill of reason. I want a morsel of your regard, and I will not marry you without it.” She gave one more vain tug against his fingers. “I tire of being alone at your side, Emerson. I cannot subject myself to a lifetime of it.”
Through the tears burning her eyes, she saw his face harden, then relax. His grip eased, but he did not release her wrist. Simply pulled it down and then held her hand. The warmth that seeped into her palm belied the cool words she had spoken.
Yet his smile was no more than it had ever been. “I have been remiss, darling, and I apologize. I assure you, you are my chosen bride. It has simply been a struggle to readjust to social life. After Yorktown…”
Anger snapped at her heels again, largely because of the compassion he called up with the mere mention of Yorktown. How could anyone—man, woman, or child—argue with one who had been at the dreadful battle? The moment a soldier uttered that word, all arguments necessarily ceased.
In this particular case she could not help but think he used it for that very purpose. “Emerson—”
“I shall make it up to you. Let us set a date this moment, and I will be the figure of devotion.” The idea seemed to pain him—his smile turned to a grimace. For a man with a reputation as a charmer, he did a remarkable job of dashing her heart to pieces.
She sucked in a long breath. “I shan’t hold you to the engagement. If you—”
“Not another word of such nonsense. Let us say the first Sunday in March, shall we? The worst of the winter weather ought to be over by then. We can announce it to our parents this evening.”
It should have brought Joy instead of defeat. It should have lit hope instead of despair.
He pressed the necklace back into her hands. “Take it, my darling. Wear it on our wedding day.”
Before she could decide whether to relent or argue, he pressed a kiss to her fingers and fled the room as if the hounds of Hades nipped at his heels. Lark sank back into her chair and flipped open the box so she could stare at the large, perfect gems resting within.
Why did the thought of marrying her light such fires of panic under him? Lark rested her cheek against her palm and let her tears come.
She should have tried the pirate’s code.
* * * * *
Emerson scraped the tavern chair across the wooden floor, fell onto its hard seat, and, for the first time in his memory, wished Wiley Benton would hold his tongue for five blasted minutes. He barely saw the familiar whitewashed walls, the wainscoting, the multitude of friendly faces. His mind still reeled, wrestling with images of those blinding diamonds—and the equally blinding tears in Lark’s eyes.
What had Mother been thinking, blithely handing off the most valuable Fielding possessions? The diamonds—to Lark. It was beyond fathoming. They would overwhelm her. Eclipse rather than complement. And to have them abiding outside Fielding Hall for the next several months…
Still, he should not have lost his head. Then she wouldn’t have lost hers, and he wouldn’t have talked himself straight into a trap.
“What can I bring you gentlemen today?”
He looked up at the tavern’s owner but couldn’t dredge up a smile. No matter—Wiley would smile enough for the both of them. “Chocolate,” his friend said.
“Make mine coffee, if you please, sir.”
“That I will. And I shall direct Hendricks your way. He and the governor are chatting in the back corner.”
“In a few moments,” Emerson answered before Wiley could supply what was sure to be thankful acceptance.
As the proprietor stalked off, Wiley lifted his brows in that particular way that bespoke both humor and confusion. “What plagues you, man? You have been playing the dunderhead ever since we left Endover.”
“I played it while there too.” Indulging in a mild oath, he swept his tricorn off his head and plopped it onto the table between them. “I upset your sister.”
“Lark?”
“Well, your other sister was hardly there to be upset.”
Wiley took his hat off as well, his confusion plain on his face. “But Lark is so rarely in an ill temper. She especially shouldn’t have been, given the good news of our cousin’s delayed arrival.”
Under normal circumstances, Emerson would have been amused at his friend’s perpetual dislike of the family soon arriving from Philadelphia. At this moment he gave not a fig who was coming or when. “Apparently all it takes is overreacting when one sees one’s mother wrapped up the family diamonds for her.”
Wiley looked near to choking. “The ones your father goes ever on about? That had belonged to the countess?”
“The very ones.”
Wiley let out a muted whistle. “I cannot conceive she accepted them. Especially if you seemed opposed.”
“I had already insisted I knew what the gift was, though I did not. Then rather than returning just the diamonds, she grew angry and made to return all the Fielding jewels.”
Wiley’s eyes widened, and he leaned over the table. “What did you say to her?”
Emerson waved him off. “It hardly matters. I smoothed matters over, and we decided on a wedding date. The first Sunday of March.”
Instead of seeming satisfied, Wiley’s gaze went probing, and then accusing. “So simply? After shifting the topic away from the wedding each time my parents mentioned it the past two years? Frankly, Emerson, we have all doubted your intentions of making good on your promise.”
“Of course I intend to make good on it.” It was an advantageous match all round. The Bentons were a wealthy, respected family, perfectly equal to the Fieldings. Lark herself would make an excellent wife. She was well bred, well taught, not homely—if not as lovely as her sister, who was now Mrs. Hendricks. Sweet of temperament—today aside. He liked her well enough and expected he would come to love her in a decade or so, once they had a brood of children between them.
And she loved him, as his own sisters had pointed out two years ago.
Wiley narrowed his eyes. “Emerson, you know I would welcome you eagerly into our family, but I confess the longer this drags out, the more misgivings I have. You treat my sister no differently now than you did when she was a child, dogging your heels and sending us up a tree to escape her.”
Perhaps that was the problem. She still seemed twelve to him, as she had been when he’d returned from England to fight for freedom from it. She still looked at him with the same blind adoration, still sat silently by whenever he was near.
That would change once they were wed though, surely.
“Emerson.” Wiley’s tone had turned hard, though barely more than a murmur. “I will see my sister happy. If you still dream of Elizabeth, if you cannot love Lark, then release her from the betrothal and let her find someone who can.”
The name snapped his spine straight. Fight as he might against it, the image nonetheless surfaced of a woman as opposite Lark as one could find. Did he dream of her? Only in his worst nightmares. “Rest assured your sister is loved.”
His friend’s eyes narrowed. “If I did not know better, I would call that a cunning evasion. Loved she is. But I would have her loved by you.”
As would he. He could manage it, assuredly. He simply must put his mind to it, as he had to Newton’s Principia Mathematica back at King William’s School. “You have no reason to fear for your sister’s heart, Wiley. I will be a good husband.”
In three short months.
“You look more frightened than when we saw our first Redcoats advancing, muskets at the ready.” Amusement laced its way through the frustration in Wiley’s tone. “I would have many a laugh over this were it not my favorite sister that made you wince so.”
“I am not wincing.” Much.
“Benton, Fielding! There you are.” Hendricks’s voice came from the corner of the room, where the man had stood and waved a greeting to them. “I shall join you in a moment.”
“We await you eagerly,” Wiley replied with his usual grin. When he turned back around, it shifted and hardened into the expression few knew. But Emerson did, from the field of battle. It was the look that had always appeared on his friend’s face moments before he let out a war cry and charged into the thick of things. “If you hurt Lark,” he murmured so quietly Emerson could barely hear him, “I will kill you—or make you wish I had.”
“I know you would. ’Tis not at issue.” Twenty-five years of friendship had not been threatened by competition, an ocean’s distance, or the ravages of war. He would not allow it to be distressed by one small, unassuming woman.

And because I know you’re now totally hooked (right?? right??? lol) the links for ChristianBook and Amazon again. =)

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