Receiving His Gifts

Receiving His Gifts

I’m currently sitting in a rented beach house in Avon, North Carolina–one of my favorite places in the world. And one of our favorite things to do while we’re on vacation here in the Outer Banks is to watch the sunrise.

Now, in September, this is no great feat. The sun rises at a civilized 6:30ish, so we have plenty of time to get up and enjoy it (my husband and I usually wake up at 5:30, do our morning prayers together, and then go about our day). As we settled in our beachy routine, we remembered that last year, though we were down here for two weeks, there wasn’t a single day where we had a “perfect” sunrise. By which we mean a clear horizon over the water, some scattered clouds to catch the light and be painted with that gorgeous sunrise rainbow. Each and every day, there was a big ol’ cloud bank on the horizon that obscured the sun.

On Monday this year, I looked out the big east-facing windows of the house, saw a big ol’ cloudbank dumping rain somewhere out at sea (though it was perfectly clear here), and sighed. Still, we climbed the weathered wooden stairs up to the rooftop deck to watch what we could see of the sunrise.

As I was sitting there in my newly-purchased beach chair, looking out at that single storm cloud marring my idea of a perfect morning and reflecting on last year, I found myself praying, Lord, please give us a few good sunrises this year.

And then I sensed the Lord giving me one of those smiling shakes of the head, like we give our kiddos when they’re cute but oh-so-off-base. And a new prayer filled my heart instead:

Lord, I will receive whatever you give me. Help me to do so with open hands and an open heart.

With that prayer on my lips, the morning suddenly looked different. Instead of a selfish outlook that was utterly ridiculous when I stopped to think about it–why would something as large as weather be changed for a fleeting moment of pleasure for me? Not to say the Lord never gives us those gifts, but it struck me as so selfish a request in that moment–my eyes were opened to what He had already given.

If I wanted painted clouds, I had only to look away from that single storm cloud and watch the ones skuttling to the south wash rose and gold. If I wanted drama, I need look no further than the fire-limned edges of that big raincloud. If I wanted a reminder of His goodness, I had only to listen to the sounds of the ocean and the wind and the birds.

One of the reasons I love the beach is because every time I walk outside, no matter where I look, I see the bigness of the world around me, and it reminds me of the eternal vastness of our God. I love the mountains I live in, the beauty they show, but you can’t ever see as much sky as you can down here, nor, for that matter, so much land; the horizon is never a distant thing, it’s just the next ridgeline. I love that…but I love this too. Because as I stand on the shore where the waves lap at my feet or on a deck where I can see for miles, I know that I am such a small part of this world–no more to history than a grain of sand. A drop of water. And yet, as important as every grain of sand, every drop of water, because the Creator crafted me just so, just as He did this landscape that fills my soul with contentment.

When David and I went for our first walk the other day, I kept just sucking in a long breath and letting it back out with a sigh of pure bliss. Life with all its irritations and challenges continues even on vacation–I got attacked (ha) by a cactus the very first time we walked from the house toward the beach, I’m recovering from some congestion we brought back with us from Memphis last week, my inbox is overflowing with tasks I need to take care of. But being here helps me put it all in perspective.

Being here helps me open my hands, open my heart, and turn my face up to Heaven. Being here helps me set aside my own desires and expectations and instead just receive. Receive whatever the Lord wants to give me.

There will be good. There will be bad. There will be victories. There will be defeat. There will smiles. There will be tears.

Because that, my friends, is life. There is suffering…and there is glory unlike anything we could imagine. We can get a glimpse of it in every sunrise…in every sunset. In every rainstorm…in every gust of wind. We can hear it in the song of the birds…and in our own hearts, when we quiet them enough to step back from ourselves, from our wants, from our desires, and listen instead for His whisper.

He has such wonderful gifts in store for us. Do we have the eyes to see them?

Word of the Week – Lily

Word of the Week – Lily

Ready to continue our series on flowers? Today we’re going to look at the word lily.

Lily is a very OLD word. As in, our English word goes all the way back into Old English with various spellings, and it traces its roots not only to Latin and Greek but even further back. Our spelling is taken from Latin, but pretty much every Western language has a similar word from either Latin or Greek, all meaning the same thing. The flower, and also its other associations with “white, pure, lovely.” The universality of the word is probably due to its inclusion in biblical texts.

Lily of the valley is a direct translation of the Hebrew in Song of Solomon, though it was first applied to the plant we think of today only in the 1500s. Interestingly, lily pad is an Americanism, dating from 1834 (I didn’t realize it was so specific!).

ACFW in Review

ACFW in Review

The very first writers conference I ever attended was the national ACFW conference in 2007. I was pregnant with Rowyn at that conference–and I met another young woman also pregnant (with her first), who was carrying the same red leather briefcase. We struck up a conversation, eventually exchanged emails, and eighteen years later, she’s still my best friend (hi, Stephanie! LOL). In fact, I realized before going that I’ve been a member of this organization for 21 years. Clearly, ahem, I joined at age 7. 😉

I’ve been to quite a few ACFW conferences since that first time, but it’s been a while. In fact, I think the last I attended this conference was twelve years ago, when I first went as an editor representing WhiteFire Publishing. I’ve been to many other conferences in the meantime, including quite a few regional ACFW ones. But this is the first I’ve gotten to go back to this big, wonderful national conference–and yet again, I’m representing WhiteFire. And this time, David came to rep the company too!

I’ll admit that we weren’t off to the best start, when driving from dropping our daughter off at college and then driving from Annapolis to the airport resulted in a cracked windshield (boo!). But from there, things were great. We’d managed to find super-cheap upgrades to first class, which meant free checked bags…which meant I could bring my books for the bookstore in a suitcase. I think that upgrade actually ended up saving us money in book shipping! 

In the airport, I looked over and saw who I was 98% sure was Tamela Hancock Murray, agent in the Steve Laube Agency (Steve is my agent). I was about ready just to call out, “Tamela!” and see if she looked over, but she beat me to it. She came over and said hello, and that was fun! Turns out, another conferee was on the plane too, though I didn’t realize it until the next day, at a meet and greet. She said she saw me on the plane and nearly fan-girled but thought it would be weird, so didn’t. I assured her no fangirling was ever unwelcome, LOL.

We had a friendly, chatty, helpful Uber driver from airport to hotel, and oh my word, y’all, the Peabody! It has live ducks in the fountain, with a duck parade every day from rooftop to lobby, and duck-themed everything. It was so cute! And the hotel is super posh. It was an absolutely delightful stay.

On Thursday, before the official start of the conference, I had a chance to enjoy a leisurely breakfast with the aforementioned agent Steve. I’ve met him before, but not since he’s been my agent, so it was fun to catch up. Then in the afternoon, I got to sit down with two ladies from the Tyndale team. I just learned on Tuesday that my acquisitions editor is leaving (sad!) but that Stephanie, who I met there (she’s head of the fiction line) will be taking me on (happy!). David and I also joined the Tyndale team and the other Tyndale authors at the conference for dinner of Friday night, which was amazing. I also had a chance to hug my previous editor from Bethany House and catch up with her, which was also a joy.

Thursday night was the “Milestones Dinner,” and I got a lovely little pin honoring my 50th book release.  They also do ribbons for your lanyard, and I had the 20+ year member ribbon, as well the “honor roll” ribbon…which I had to ask someone to explain to me, LOL. It’s for being on a bestseller list and/or winning other awards. And pins, too, for my two Carol Award finalist titles this year.

As an editor, I got to meet with quite a few authors who were pitching their books to me, and that is always a delight. I look forward to seeing what might come of those meetings in the weeks and months to come!

For me, though, the most amazing thing was that every time I went anywhere, someone called out my name. Sometimes to say how much they love my books, but ALWAYS to say they’ve been praying for me. Guys…that just makes me teary and smiley and humbled and awed. It was strange, first of all, to be recognized–the last time I’d attended the national conference, I had some friends there, of course, but it was nothing like this.

Saturday evening was the Carol Awards gala. The dinner was scrumptious, and I was all dolled up in a vintage style dress (that I found for $8 on Poshmark!). I had two books that were finalists: The Collector of Burned Books for the Historical Romance category, and The Christmas Book Flood for novella. I will admit that, of the two, I thought Collector had a better chance of winning. But the Historical Romance category went to the super-sweet Christine Hill Suntz, who I’d had the chance to get to know at all the Tyndale dinners and hang-out times, for The Lawyer and the Laundress, and I was thrilled to cheer for her! But then The Christmas Book Flood won for novella! How lovely!

Two of my Patrons & Peers ladies were at the conference, and hanging out with them was just wonderful. We closed the ballroom down chatting after the award ceremony. =) Total delight.

Of course, we had to leave for the airport on Sunday morning at a ghastly 4:15 a.m., which wasn’t the most fun in the world. A young lady from our Mid-Atlantic zone joined us on the Uber ride (she was understandably leery of riding by herself at 4 a.m.), and Tamela was yet again on our flight home, LOL. 

All in all, it was a wonderful experience all round (minus the chipped windshield, but they were able to repair it, it didn’t require replacement! So even that isn’t so bad!), and I can’t wait to go back! I was amazed that it still felt like home, even after so many years away. Because they’re my people–fellow Christian writers, fellow Christian novelists even. What a joy it was to visit with old friends and make new ones…and just to hear straight from people’s mouths how many prayers have been covering people.

David joked that he was less “publisher of WhiteFire” and more “Roseanna’s husband” there, but he said it was amazing to hear how loved I am. The last day, I kept catching him thanking everyone for their support of me (my editor and agent specifically).

I can’t wait to return!

Terri Harr, Me, Tracy Gimpel
The P&P Contingent!

The Peabody Ducks

My Carol Award acceptance speech. The video picks up a couple seconds in–I begin with “I did prepare something to say, then, much like with my outlines, I chucked it out the window…”

Word of the Week – Lavender

Word of the Week – Lavender

Ready to continue our series on flowers? Today we’re going to look at the word lavender.

Did you know that lavender is part of the mint family? I am clearly not well-educated on botany, LOL–that was news to me. The word lavender, given to said plant, is from the 1300s, taken directly from French, which was in turn from Latin. The Latin root seems to have some commonality with lividus, which means “bluish” as well as “livid,” but it also has similarities to lavare, “to wash.” Lavender has been used in washing and perfumes for millennia, so it’s likely no accident that the root words are so similar.

I don’t know about you, but I always wonder which came first with words like lavender, the plant or the color-name. Sometimes, with things like orange, the color was actually first! But definitely not so with lavender. The word for the plant predates the word for the light-purple color by about 300 years, with the color-word popping up around 1840 as an adjective (as in “lavender flowers”) and as a noun all on its own by 1882.

A Triune Love

A Triune Love

Have you ever wondered where we get the idea of the Trinity, of a threefold God, when the word itself is never used in the Bible?

Well, the word may not be, but the concept is all through it. In studying it, though, what left me breathless with epiphany was when I read that the verse “God is love” is where all these triune understandings are rooted.

Love doesn’t exist in a vacuum. Love doesn’t exist in nothingness. Love can’t exist on its own, outside of a few crucial things.

First, someone to do the loving. That is God the Father.

Next, someone to be loved. That is God the Son.

Third, the outpouring of that love between them, the love itself. That is God the Holy Spirit.

This is an incredibly old teaching and way of understanding the Trinity, but it’s one I only encountered a few years ago. It struck me then, and it struck me even more when I came across it again recently.

Because the beauty of this concept is rooted in a truth so deep it goes back to the very beginning. To before the beginning. To what made the beginning. Why, we might ask, did God create us? Why did He speak that Word by which all that is came into being? Why did the Spirit go forth and hover over the waters?

Love.

First, before the world, that love still existed. It existed in God Himself. It is God Himself. He loved, and so the force of that love created something–created everything. He loved, and the world and all that’s in it came into being. He loved, and mankind sprang up. He loved, and all of history unspooled.

That first love–Father, Son, and Spirit–is the eidos, the ultimate form that all creation then harkens back to. We belong in families because our Creator IS a family. And made in His image as we are, we naturally long for that. We need that. We, too, are a dim reflection of that triune love.

We are the lover.
We are the beloved.
We are the physical representation of the love of our parents.

I am, of course, speaking in ideals–the “act of love” is not always done in love, I know that. But it’s meant to be. Which means we are meant to be that manifestation, that outpouring of love.

Just as we are meant to love others with our whole hearts, undefiled.

Just as we are meant to receive love wholly and openly and truly.

We are meant to embody that love here on earth, with our fellow-men. Just as we are meant to return that love to the Lord, as we receive it from Him.

I don’t know about you, but pondering that just leaves me in awe. That all of creation, all of history, all of everything is rooted in that one little word, that one boundless concept, that one thing we all know yet can’t know fully while we’re bound up in these selfish, sinful bodies:

LOVE.

If we spend our lives seeking to give it, to receive it, to embody it…well then, we’re spending our lives seeking to better understand Him.

The first Lover.
The first Beloved.
And the Love itself that pours out into all of creation.