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Last year around this time, there were things that I found upsetting in modern politics. As I sat in Church in an hour of prayer, I laid it all out before God and asked, “Should I speak?” And I very clearly felt Him say no. It was not the time. I didn’t understand why, but I obeyed.
I think perhaps now I understand why He asked me to wait. I think it may be because I was at the beginning of what turned out to be a year-long (and ongoing) experiment. See, I’d never been one to read the news—it was too depressing. ? Instead, I’d rely on my news-rabid husband to keep me informed. But last January, I’d felt the need to break that old habit…but I wanted to do it right. I decided that I would read news from a deliberate variety of sources. Especially when a big event caught my attention, I would seek out both the liberal and conservative perspectives on it. My husband does this daily and also reads foreign news, so as we discussed things, he would add in the perspective of international news outlets. (He still spends a lot more time reading the news than I do!) Last year, my opinions were not very well-informed, which means they weren’t all that well formed, either. They were emotional responses—not as reasoned as I wanted to think they were, and not nuanced.
In this year of deliberate reading, I discovered something. I discovered that it was very easy for me, a lifelong Conservative, to pick out the liberal bias in a piece, and after I acknowledged and then dismissed my own knee-jerk reaction to it, I could read the actual information contained with objectivity. It was more difficult in conservative pieces, because their bias is my own. I had to work to be able to pick that out and examine the facts.
Although, I also discovered another interesting thing—that as I perceived Conservative politics (from my perspective, I know you may not feel the same way!) deviating more and more from my own long-held beliefs, that bias in Conservative news began to strike me in a new way. I was angry. I was upset. It felt like a slap in the face that made me do something very strange—it made me want to turn away from it entirely.
That was bizarre. While I have new understanding of many liberal views, there are also key issues where I still very much disagree with the usual lines…but this knee-jerk reaction was pushing me toward them. And then I realized why it was.
I felt betrayed. And when you feel betrayed, a frequent emotional reaction is to want to turn completely away from the perceived traitor. This is why couples who go through divorce can so quickly go from love to hate. Once I identified this emotion, I was able to sit back, evaluate my actual, continual core principles, and realize that the appropriate response was not abandonment…but healing.
That’s the journey I’ve been on in this last year with modern politics.
Now—I’ve long had a policy. As a Christian novelist with a growing platform, a core tenet of my interactions with the public has always been “don’t talk about politics.” It’s a guaranteed way to alienate half your readership—because there are Christians on both sides of the political aisle. But as American politics continue to spiral into snarling shouting matches, I found myself again at a place where I wanted to speak.
This time, it was different. This time, it was because of a few stupid memes. Now, another key tenet of mine is “Don’t argue with people on Facebook,” a corollary of which is “Especially don’t argue with memes.” ? But these particular memes struck me because they were cruel…and they were shared by people I know personally. Now, this is nothing new with these particular people (again, people I know in real life, in my hometown). But on this particular Friday night, it brought me to tears. (Granted, I’m super emotional right now after my second cancer diagnosis, LOL. See my post called “Given to Tears.”) Not because of the political opinion—but because of the attitude of disgust and bitterness and hatred from these people who I know love Jesus. That brought me to tears. It wasn’t worry, it wasn’t anger. It was sorrow.
And responding from sorrow…that’s very different from responding from anger.
I asked again, “Lord, is it time to speak?” And this time, the answer was very different. This time, the answer was yes. That night, I woke up at about 2:15 and, as often happens to me in the middle of the night, my brain clicked on. (This is where most of my books are plotted, LOL. In the dark of the night, when I should be sleeping. Now you know my secret.) I lay there for the next four hours working through what He would have me say—what would glorify God and also lay my heart bare. What would not invite argument, but rather dialogue. I crafted and recrafted the words in my head. I prayed. And as David eventually woke up in the morning (LOL), I told him my thoughts, and the tears came again.
Again, not from anger, not from worry. From sorrow. From grief.
So I got up and I wrote a Facebook post. It was five pages long, LOL. THAT wasn’t going to work, so I had ChatGPT recommend where to cut and tighten, and I ended up with a far more reasonable two pages. In this post, I spoke directly to my MAGA friends (though I didn’t name names). I did something I don’t do—I talked about politics. I shared my own stances and opinions, from the perspective of why I feel betrayed by my party, and more, why I feel betrayed specifically by these people—these people who helped raise me, who are the ones who taught me how to follow Jesus, who taught me what I should look for in politicians. Who, from my point of view, are now not only defending things they once taught me to despise, but who are mocking those who disagree. Am I misunderstanding them? I really hope so. (I had a lot of people who chimed in saying, “Do you consider me MAGA just because I voted for Trump? Because there are a lot of things I have problems with, I just made a decision based on these key things.” My answer to them is, “No, you’re not the ones in particular I was addressing, though I do really appreciate your perspective! I was addressing those who defend everything he does.”)
I didn’t set out to convince anyone of anything—not my goal at all. I set out to be vulnerable. To express why I feel the way I do, to share how I’m interpreting their actions, and to ask them to weigh in and correct me where I’m wrong, explain the things I just don’t understand, and to help me see their point of view more clearly. I love them. I don’t want to judge them (but I had been…which ain’t cool. I know that.). I want to start healing this wound in my own heart, and also healing this rift that is growing within the Church.
What followed were thousands of comments, both from my MAGA friends and from a lot of people who feel the way I do but thought they were alone. People from all sides—from the left, from the right, and from this weird place in the middle of current definitions where I find myself—who had given up speaking because they were afraid of being attacked. The comment section, and my private messages, became a place where they could engage honestly and openly and without fear. It was overwhelming, I’ll be honest—I spent that entire Saturday answering comments and messages—eight long but beautiful hours. When I woke up on Sunday morning, there were about 360 comments, many of which were my own replies, and when I left for church, I had about 50 yet to go through. After church and nursing home ministry and lunch and a nap, I went back to my computer to hit “refresh,” and there were 900 comments, 600 of which I hadn’t read.
I’ll admit it–I panicked, because I hadn’t been there moderating. And yet the newest comments, from total strangers, many of them even from around the world, were to the effect of, “Wow, I didn’t think conversations like this could still happen. This gives me hope.” It gives me hope too. =) The comment section did eventually devolve, and I know of at least two cases where people were hurt and only seeing ugly, bullying comments, and they were baffled by how I was saying it was good…and I get that and regret so deeply that this happened to them! I will share one particular experience about how it resolved soon. And I will also say that I learned how tricky it is for anyone to see a full picture when algorithms are in play! I kept getting notifications like “Jane Doe + 56 others tagged you in a comment.” When I clicked on it, it would show me that first comment, but none others, and short of clicking “all comments” and scrolling for an hour to try to find one in particular, by which time more had come in…I simply couldn’t see them. I imagine it was the same for others, who were alerted when they were tagged, so if they were targeted with bullying, that would be all they saw. Which wasn’t at all what I intended.
But in general, as people checked out (understandably) it was often with comments to me thanking me for the tenor of the original post and conversation. Even with ugly sneaking in at the end, many people agreed that it was beautiful. It was healing.
And I realized that it isn’t enough. It’s the proof of a concept, but one that needs to continue. Because friends, we can’t continue like this. We can’t continue refusing to hear things we don’t like, dismissing any view not our own, and embracing those knee-jerk, emotional reactions that tell us if someone disagrees, then they’re not really a Christian. That if someone disagrees, they’re evil. If someone disagrees, then we should dismiss them entirely. More, we can’t continue growing angrier at each other, letting the wounds fester. That isn’t what God wants for us, and I know we all agree on that!
Ours is a world of nuance. How can it not be? We serve a God who is at once so simple, able to be summed up in a single sentence: God is love. And yet so infinitely complex that our human minds will never grasp His intricacies and mysteries this side of Heaven. We serve a God who is both perfect Justice and perfect Mercy. His creation is just as complex. And fallen humanity? Hoo, boy! There’s nothing simple about how to untangle the mess our sin has created in this world.
And so, in the next few posts, I’m going to keep speaking—and you can expect me to continue to do so. Not to be political—I may discuss current events, and I’m of course coming from my own perspective—but to invite dialogue, to dig down not only to the heart of issues but also into our own hearts, and to grow our mutual understandings. Because I will be the first to admit that I do not understand ANYTHING fully. I am keenly aware of how my own opinions shift as I learn more. So if my opinions change, why would I try to convince you of them? I’m just hoping you’ll want to come along on the ride of discovery and learning and deepening our own understanding, with the goal of better seeing the nuance of those complicated issues and also of each other’s hearts.
I’m going to break these into multiple posts (because this one is already long), but I’m going to publish several of them all at once. If you’d like to engage, you’re welcome to do so at any time on any of the topics. As I publish them, I’ll be adding links to each topic at the bottom of this cornerstone post.
I hope and pray that whether we’re in the same place or different ones, we can be open and vulnerable like that Facebook conversation was at the start—because I love you. You, my readers, are my whole purpose. You are the reason I get up every morning and write the stories God has put on my heart. I don’t love you because we agree—I don’t love because we’re on the same “side.” I don’t love you because I think you’ll echo back to me my own beliefs.
I love you because you are so precious in the sight of God. Most of you know Him and love Him (I know I have some readers who aren’t there yet, too). So most of us are starting from the same place…but that doesn’t mean we’ve taken the same journey or are viewing things in the same way now. And that’s not only okay, that’s beautiful. That means we have so much to learn from each other. It’s no coincidence that Jesus invited both Zealots and tax collectors into His inner circle. Two diametrically opposed positions in that world—both of whom could bring those opposite politics to the Lord’s feet and love Him.
I want us, the Church, to begin healing. And that requires conversation. Not shouting matches, not debates, not trying to win or be right. Learning. Truly learning the other points of view, truly seeking to see others’ hearts.
You’re going to find other people who are standing exactly where you are—and you’ll realize you’re not alone. You’re going to find people who disagree with you—and who can show you things you’d never considered before. You’re (again) going to find people who disagree with you—and who need to hear what you have to say. You’re going to be confronted with uncomfortable truths, no matter your opinions. And you’re going to have to wrestle with them. Because denying them doesn’t achieve anything but the hardening of our own hearts.
I hope you’ll come along on this journey with me. If you’re not up for it, that’s okay. I get it. Maybe it isn’t your time to speak yet. But if it is, and if you do, I pray you’ll join me in the spirit in which I’m opening this dialogue, and I pray you’ll be vulnerable and share your thoughts and opinions and stances. I need to hear them. I need to understand where you’re coming from. I still have so, so much to learn—I know that. And since you’re human, I bet you do too. ?
A year ago, I was angry and wanted to hold people accountable. This year, I’m grieving, and I want to heal. Are you ready for that, too? Then please, come along.
In one of my next posts, you’ll find my story as I shared it on Facebook. In another, I’m going to pause to remind us all of what makes for constructive dialogue, and I’m also going to equip us with something I sure need—a logical fallacy toolkit. The purpose of that will be to give us the tools and words to help us identify why certain arguments feel “off” to us, which in turn helps us know how to respond. I’ll be using examples of them straight from my social media feed. And from there, we’re going to start talking about some of the hard topics and hot button issues we’re confronted with every day right now, from immigration to Greenland to abortion.
And I’m doing something else too. I’m opening up a place to talk about these things live. If there’s enough interest, I’ll be hosting Zoom chats with my husband, in the tradition of Benjamin Franklin’s Junto club or the Maryland founding fathers’ Wednesday Club—where we talk about things that matter from a place of vulnerability, desire to learn, and love and respect for each other. No “winning,” no “agreeing to disagree” (I hate that phrase! LOL). Just earnest, open communication between people who love God and crave that unity in the Church that’s sorely lacking right now.
I’m calling this “The Common Room.” Historically speaking, that’s the place in an inn where people would come to gather—to share a meal, to learn, to talk. We’re going to be emphasizing what we have in common (our faith, our love of God and of the home here on earth He’s given us, and also of each other), and we’re going to be learning from each other when it comes to differences. So I’ll also be sharing the “rules of engagement” for these meetings. ? I hope you’ll come. If you’re interested, please fill out this super-fast form so I (a) know there’s enough interest to warrant it and (b) can send you the Zoom link.
And so, this post will end with this message: if you are liberal, I love you for your concern for your fellow man. If you are conservative, I love you for your adherence to core principles and belief in the sacred. If you are moderate, I love you for trying so hard to strike the balance between the two. If you are confused about it all, I love you for your self-awareness and admission that there’s just too much to take in. No matter where you stand right now, your perspective matters. Your views are not only valid, they are valuable. Come be seen. Come be heard.
Come be healed.
(*A quick note–when this posts, I’ll be in Morgantown for my next chemo infusion, and my website does hold comments from first-time posters for approval, in order to weed out bots. So if you comment but don’t see it pop up immediately, that’s why. I’ll get online as soon as I’m able to approve anything that’s waiting. I just don’t want you to think any delay is intentional or aimed at whatever you might have shared!)
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I had my first infusion for what I’ve been thinking of as my “cancer blocker treatment” on January 7, so today, over two weeks later, I figured it would be a good time to update you on how I’m doing.
These infusions are NOT full chemo. They’re somewhat similar to treatments I had after surgery in 2024, going into May of 2025, and with those, I had zero side effects. So it’s been my hope and prayer that I would respond similarly with these. These, however, are not quite the same and do include a sizable list of possible side effects–most of which are things like stomach issues and thinning hair, but the serious one is a lung condition. (I DEFINITELY appreciate prayers that I don’t experience any serious ones!)
I’ll admit I got a little emotional when I went in on the 7th and my doctors were refilling my anti-nausea meds…and when the infusion had pre-meds for anti-nausea as well. Because I know that when I was on chemo, I felt nauseous every day. Every day from mid-May until the end of August. And y’all, I do not want to feel sick every day for the next year, so that hit me hard. Hopefully I won’t, but I did definitely get some of that belly-upset in the days immediately following the infusion. No vomitting or anything, so praise God for that…but about 8 days of feeling crummy, and seriously exhausted for the first 2 or 3. As in, sit down to read after dinner and fall asleep instead, which I never do.
The bright side was that I went in with a cold, but the steroids they gave me opened my nose up and helped me get over it, LOL. I’ll take my wins wherever I can!
I was also warned that I’m very likely to feel more tired than usual in general. Which isn’t great, given that I have 7-8 books to write this year, so prayers are VERY much appreciated for me on the energy front. One of my big goals for the year is to figure out how to rebalance my schedule to allow for more, better time for writing, which will likely mean taking time from my design schedule. Prayers for wisdom in how to juggle all those things greatly appreciated too!
They do also consider me to be immune-compromised while on this treatment, so I’ll be going back into “careful” mode, masking in crowds and avoiding anyone I know is sick.
But my oncologist did also make it VERY clear that his goal is to get me off this treatment as quickly as possible. It will still likely be a year of infusions (though likely with a break in there for my next reconstruction surgery), but he does NOT want me to be on this indefinitely, and that’s music to my ears.
As for that next surgery…so my initial reconstruction isn’t doing so well, and radiation is no doubt to blame. It can (and clearly did) damage the whole area, not just the skin but the muscles and everything else in there. In my case, my right side has tightened, meaning daily pain. The area itself is still always sore and sometimes outright painful, and even my neck/shoulder muscles have been effected. When I last saw my PT and told her that my hand was tingly, we quickly determined it was from the muscles in my neck and shoulder. When we finished the diagnostic exercises that verified that and she got to work on it, it earned a “Dang, girl!” LOL. So…yeah. I’ve been doing the exercises she gave me, but I still get a tingly hand every couple days and frequently either wake up or end my day with super tight neck/shoulder muscles that result in a splitting headache.
On Monday, I had an appointment with my surgeon, who agrees that our next step should be to remove the current reconstruction and do the deep-tissue method, which uses belly fat/skin to reshape the breasts. This is where I wanted to end up eventually, I was just hoping to defer it to “down the road.” Because I’ll be honest–I’m tired of surgeries, LOL. And timing this one is tricky. My oncologist will have to clear it, and when I spoke to him about the possibility on the 7th, he said that if my scans in March are clear, then he will be comfortable pausing the infusions while I undergo and recuperate from surgery.
Because it’s a big one. It’s long and complicated, and that means recovery is too, requiring a solid eight weeks, from those I’ve spoken to who have had it. My oncologist (a) wouldn’t want me dealing with side effects from infusions while also dealing with this recovery and (b) chemo can in fact slow and interfere with recovery in general. So there we go.
As of today, I feel good. But the cycle begins again next Thursday…so prayers are very much appreciated, and I thank you all so much for them!
In my P&P groups, we have several members who “process through tears.” A phrase I’ve always been familiar with, because I have many friends and family members who do the same.
I’ve never been much of a crier. When I was a young teenager, we got the news that my grandfather had cancer, and while the rest of my family cried, I…couldn’t. Instead, I went back to my room and wrote a poem called “Why Do I Smile?” This is, in a nutshell, very typical of me. I don’t process through tears. I process through words. Not the speaking of them, but the writing of them. It’s not to say tears don’t ever come–they do. But through most of my adult life, I cried maybe twice a year. Sometimes in grief, from a loss. Sometimes in emotional pain. Once in a while in frustration.
Cancer has changed that for me. Specifically, this second round has changed it for me. Since last October, I’ve cried more than in the last decade combined. I cry when I feel my friends’ pain. I cry when I’m struck by the beauty of our Lord. I cry when I think about the future. I cry when I’ve disappointed someone. I only have to open my spirit to the Lord, and tears fill my eyes. On the one hand, this is very unlike me.
On the other, to exist in this state of emotional rawness is its own kind of blessing.
I’ll be honest. 2026 got off to a rough start for me. 2025 was ending well in a lot of ways, I thought. I’d spent Christmas week writing a fantasy novella as a sort of vacation, and I had a blast with it. I started it the Monday before Christmas and finished the Tuesday following. I felt so alive with story that I thought something along the lines of, “I can just do this every day. Just pour it all out in writing, get all those books on my calendar done in no time.”
Then came New Year’s Eve. The day ended with an email that hurt. That made it clear we’d disappointed someone, let them down, that we had failed. That was my final note of the year, and I’ll admit it. I wasn’t just hurt–I was angry. Why, why did this person have to send this email at 5pm on New Year’s Eve? Why couldn’t it have waited for Monday? To be clear, I’m not contesting her points. They were valid. But to send it at that moment felt spiteful to me.
And I crashed. I woke up on New Year’s Day upset with the world and everyone in it. I woke up crying tears of frustration. I tried to pour it all out to God, and I sounded like a whiny toddler, proclaiming, “I hate everything!” This is very unlike me. And to give myself a little grace, I’m sure it was due in large part to the migraine that struck, and the fact that I felt close to vomiting all day. I took an unplanned two-hour nap, cancelled the day’s dinner plans (because even smelling the bread I’d made for it made me feel nauseous), and curled up with a book.
And I cried. That day, and into the second. I cried because this wasn’t how I wanted to start my year. This wasn’t how I wanted to feel. I dug around inside myself and just couldn’t grab hold of the grace I knew I needed, the forgiveness, the peace. All I could find was the hurt. All I could find were the tears.
But you know what? That’s okay. There have been so, so many times over the years when I wished I could cry. When I longed for that emotional release, but I couldn’t dig it up. When whatever it is in my makeup that makes me tend toward smiles and optimism no matter what just wouldn’t let go, even when I needed to deal with emotions.
Now, I found those tears. And I let them come. I let out the frustration, I let out the hurt, I let out the disappointment in myself. I still didn’t process through tears like my friends do. I still needed the words to really work through it.
But the tears…they’ve become a sort of magnifier for me. Through them, I can see the world a little differently. They’ve become a sort of reminder of baptism, an anointing almost. A reminder that He cleansed me. He made me anew. He made me whole. He washed away my sins, and He’ll continue to work in me. Continue to wipe away those smudges.
Will the tears continue for this veteran-non-crier? I have no idea. Maybe so–maybe the rest of my life, I’ll be one of those people who cry whenever I’m moved. That would be fine. Or maybe as I put cancer behind me again (my prayer!), my usual way will reassert itself. That would be fine too.
What I know is this: In this year that began with tears, my prayer is that they water my heart. Soften the soil of it. Nurture the seeds that the Lord has planted inside me, so that I can bear whatever fruit He wants to bring forth. I pray that these tears make me more sympathetic, more understanding, more generous, more kind. I pray they make me a better friend. A better person. A better Christian. More like Him.
Sometimes, we’re told that Jesus was moved with compassion. But we’re also told that Jesus wept. Even when He knew what He was about to do, even when He knew that this death of his friend would be reversed in glory, He still felt it. He still mourned it. He still cried.
Maybe, like “classic” me, you’re not given to tears. Maybe, like “new” me, you are. However you tend to process your emotions, I pray that in the year to come, as the world becomes ever more divided, ever more given to outrage, ever harsher, that we can become softer. Gentler. More loving. And always ready to grow in Him, like those seeds buried in the ground, just waiting to spring forth once they receive that life-giving water.
Four years ago, I decided to start a patron group. It was something my husband and I discussed briefly on a walk, and the thought just burrowed down deep and wouldn’t let me go, so I did that thing I do, which boggles my husband’s mind. I put my nose to the grindstone and developed it in the next week, then launched it. Without testing, without surveys, without anything but a vague hope of making some new friends, I launched Patrons & Peers on January 6, 2022. There are two levels: the Patrons, who can come in for as little as $5 a year and have access to all the community aspects and digital stuff; and the Peers, who come in at $15/mo or more and get all the physical stuff, like all my books when they release, without having to order them.
I remember the excitement when the order came in for the first subscription–a young woman named Hannah. Then I remember the laughter when, not long after, another order came in–another young woman named Hannah. For a couple hours there, I thought we were going to be the Hannah-Roseannas. Then others started joining too.
By the end of the first year, we were 30 strong. Now, at the end of the fourth year, we’re 52 strong. We’ve had some ladies who had to bow out. We’ve had some who stepped away for a season and returned. We’ve had new members who faithfully renew but don’t have the time or energy to engage with the community. But the core of the group–this amazing group of women–is something I hoped and prayed for, but which I’m still so in awe of.
Because this group has become a family…the sort that’s always excited to welcome in a new sister, a new friend.
In 2020, my husband and I read Dream Big by Bob Goff and did the study (twice, actually–once with an in-person group and then we led a group via Zoom). Part of this program is writing down your big, crazy, out-there dreams. The things you wish you could do but don’t necessarily know how. The things you can’t control. The things that you certainly can’t do alone.
One of mine was “build a community.”
I didn’t honestly know what I meant. Was I thinking about a physical community? An online one? Something else altogether? I wasn’t sure, but I knew that the dream of it burned in my heart. I’d tried, in other ways. With my #BeBetter group…with my Seeing the Story site. Both of which flopped. So when I started a patron group, I really didn’t know what to expect. Would it work? Would it not? Would it just be me talking into the ether, no one paying attention? Would they take me seriously when I invited them to share their dreams, their passions, their lives? Would that be too weird?
But they did take me seriously. And maybe it was because some of the first ladies to join were our resident Extroverts, LOL–but they jumped in with both feet, opened up, shared their lives with us–their struggles, their concerns, their loves, their passions, what fueled them. And as others joined, they followed suit. And guys, when you have a place where vulnerability and openness is the norm…something amazing happens. It becomes a place of love. Of friendship. Where judgment cannot penetrate. Where friction is quickly smoothed over by genuine compassion and a desire to understand each other.
In our four years of P&P, we’ve gained some nicknames, like when Bonnie F from NC dubbed us “her Roseanna Girls,” and it stuck. In there, we also have subsets, like “the Houston girls,” “the Cali girls,” and “the fantasy girls.” While I have the easy definition of being able to refer to them as “my patron group,” they have a harder time trying to convey to outsiders what this awesome family is, so they usually end up calling it something like, “my book group” or “my group of reader friends” or “my book club.”
We’ve gone on three different retreats together–one to Georgia that first fall, where only five of us ended up making it after another got sick and had to cancel; one to the Outer Banks, where we had about fifteen total, but largely in two groups as people came and went midweek; and then this past November in Colorado Springs, to see the ballet of Christmas at Sugar Plum Manor, where there were seventeen. The first two were creative retreats, so during the day we’d write or quilt or paint or read or watch those classes we’d purchased but hadn’t had time to do yet, then we’d fellowship in the evenings. This last one was pure fellowship. (Also, after the Outer Banks trip, I was “fired” from planning them, LOL, when I made a mistake that totally stressed me out, and my darling husband decided that I should just show up and enjoy it. He’d planned on taking it over, but member Candice begged to be the one to do so, so we happily let her! The awesome CO Springs trip was thanks to her and the ladies she recruited to help, and it was AMAZING.)
We’ve discovered that quite a big percentage of our members are from the Houston, TX area, so the “Houston Girls” get together several times a year. They’ll go out to dinner, go to a bookstore, have book exchange parties…
Whenever one of us travels to an area where another lives, there are lunches or dinners arranged so they can meet in person, and they always send photos. There for a while, Cali-Hannah (one of those first two members, who lives in California) had met more of the ladies in person than I had!
We have added every form of communication imaginable, LOL. We have an address database, for cards and letters and gifts. We have the Marco Polo video chat app, which was one of our first methods of communication (and seeing each other’s faces and hearing voices does SUCH amazing things for connecting us!). We have an email list, which is where announcements and links go, as well as updates and prayer requests. We have a traditional text group. And when we got too big for that, most of us migrated to the GroupMe app.
Which means that we are chatting every day. Seriously. There isn’t a day that goes by without P&P communication, and I love that so much!
We have subgroups–the fantasy readers started by creating a fantasy sub-group on Marco Polo. Those who were lured into reading The Unselected Journals of Emma M. Lion by Nicole (ALL YOUR FAULT! LOL) now have a GroupMe group called Whereabouts Lane (the street where Emma lives in London), where we chat about Emma and the books and the merch we find. We have a pen pal group started recently for those who want to send physical letters to each other…which was started because the kids of the group wanted to write to each other! (It’s becoming multi-generational! I LOVE THIS SO MUCH!!!)
Every time I have a book release, we schedule a “tea party.” These are inspired by my public Tea Party Book Club chats, but I don’t send out packages, and they’re only open to P&P members. We get together on Zoom, we talk through the book, and we spend usually 2+ hours at it, first focusing (mostly, LOL) on the story and then just chatting. And as of yesterday, we’ve decided to add a regular monthly Zoom chat where we’ll talk about a backlist book.
We also love to send out “encouragement bombs,” as I’ve taken to calling them, when a member is sick or going through a hard time or has just lost a loved one. They might be care packages, a deluge of cards, monetary donations, or meals. They might come in the mail, they might be delivered by another nearby member. I put the first one or two together, but since then, it’s been other members reaching out and saying, “Hey, I think we need to bless ____. I’m happy to spearhead the effort!” And I LOVE THIS SO MUCH!!! I love that this group is not only generous but so tuned in to the struggles of each other and so quick to want to help.
We also have an annual ornament exchange through Elfster, organized by another of the Houston ladies, Caroline. This is always a highlight to kick-off the Christmas season!
What’s coming for this group? Much of it will be a continuation of what we already do and love so much. We’ll keep chatting. We’ll keep Zooming. We’ll keep reading books together. We’ll keep meeting up whenever we can. And as I just mentioned above, we just decided yesterday to add a regular Saturday meet-up on Zoom once a month, to chat about one of my backlist titles, and everyone is SO excited to have that regular time to hang out on the calendar!
We’re for sure planning another beach retreat for our FIFTH year, this fall. Thus far, we’re leaning toward Pensacola Beach in October.
But we’re planning way ahead, too. We’ve decided that for our TENTH anniversary retreat, we’re going to Europe. We haven’t decided where, exactly. Maybe the Isles of Scilly. Or maybe Northumberland (where the manor house I based Fairfax Tower on is an actual Air BnB! But, sadly, no circus is in residence, LOL). Maybe Paris. Who knows? We’ve got a few years to figure that part out, but we’re already saying it’s a for-sure thing, so everyone has time to save up and get or renew their passports. =)
I get teary when I ask myself this question. Because these ladies, these friends, these sisters have become part of my daily life. They have been there, supporting me and praying for me and encouraging me, through the hard chapters of cancer. They never tire of hearing about my stories. When I need someone to take a look at something before I turn it into my editor, they’re the ones I reach out to. Deanna read Yesterday’s Tides for me, to help me with the sign language. Lee Anne read A Noble Scheme for me, to help me work through an editorial suggestion that was frustrating me. Danielle, Pam, and Marisa read The Spy Keeper of Marseille to weigh in on pacing concerns. Nearly the whole group reads my fantasies before they release, in Alpha (as soon as I finish, before I edit at all), Beta (after my big edits), and Gamma (final proofread) shifts.
Their generosity astounds me. Their support holds me up. Their love for each other inspires me. I cannot imagine, now, life without this group. When we get together, in person or online, it’s like walking into a room with your best friends. When I met some for the first time this last November, I couldn’t quite believe I’d never hugged them before, because we know each other so well. We’ve done so much life together!
And it’s certainly not just about what they do for me. It’s about how I see them building such strong friendships with each other. It’s when one member reaches out because she knows another in going through a hard time, and she asks what we can do. It’s the care packages they spearhead sending. It’s the soup and flowers we send to members who’ve lost loved ones. It’s the meet-ups they arrange. And it’s the fact that one sister can get on in tears, afraid she said something to offend another, and the other is so quick to hop on too and reach out with love. We’ve had some disagreements here and there–but they’re always handled like the Church should handle them, with grace and affection and the certainty that the other meant only the best.
It’s the bridal party we threw via Zoom. It’s the school-supply drive we all pitched in on for a church in Texas. It’s the friend who will drive four hours to visit someone before a hospitalization. It’s the fact that when one of us gets hard news, we come and share it there FIRST, often before even talking to family, because we all know this is a place of love and safety, where we can work through things in vulnerability before we have to be strong for someone else. Where we know we’ll have prayer warriors supporting us as we have those hard conversations with our loved ones.
It’s the fact that these women are the Church.
And that’s enough of my musing. I asked them to pipe in too, with their own thoughts on the group. So I’ll let them take it from here.
I struggle to adequately define Patrons and Peers (P&P) to people who are not part of the group. It is, on the surface, a funding tool for an author I love—but that description feels far too impersonal. It is perhaps like an online book club, yet that comparison also leaves out so much of what makes P&P so dear to me. It is a collection of women from different parts of the country, of different ages and backgrounds, united by a love of books and of God—and still, it is difficult to put into words how much I value their place in my life.
I initially joined the Patrons and Peers group because I enjoyed Roseanna’s books and thought it would be a fun way to receive a free copy of each new release while learning a little more about the stories behind them. I am not a writer—just a self-professed introverted book nerd who loves Christian historical fiction—and the P&P perks seemed like a good deal. What I have actually received over the past four years, however, is far more than I could have ever imagined. I have learned so much about the process an author goes through to turn an idea into a story, and then to craft that story into the novel I eventually hold in my hands. I’ve gained insight into editorial processes and publishing details I never knew existed, and I’ve even been given opportunities to participate in story development and editing. I’ve been introduced to genres I never would have tried otherwise, and I now appreciate far more deeply the love and effort behind every book I read—not just Roseanna’s.
Yet insight into the background of books is only a small part of the impact this group has had on my life. In my fellow P&Ps—or “Roseanna Girls,” as I affectionately call them—I have found a sisterhood of kindred spirits: fellow book lovers, prayer partners, encouragers, and friends—a bookish sorority of sorts. I never imagined such meaningful relationships could grow from an online community, but through the various platforms we use to connect, I have come to know not only their names, but their voices, their families, their pets, their jobs, their joys, their hopes, and their fears. We share book recommendations, recipes, advice, and burdens. We pray for one another, encourage one another, and walk alongside each other through both life-changing events and the ordinary struggles of daily life. In short, these Roseanna Girls have become treasured friends, and our in-person retreats in various locations are now much-anticipated delights.
I understand that, from the outside looking in, joining a group like this may feel intimidating. Please don’t worry—there is no pressure to participate beyond what you are comfortable with. You will benefit from P&P even if you simply sign up to receive the books and updates from Roseanna. You can choose to connect with the other Roseanna Girls through email, text, GroupMe, Marco Polo, Zoom parties—or you can remain happily in the background. This group has a place for you, no matter how interactive you choose to be.
Okay, Roseanna. You’re getting a little too literal here. Last year you chose the word choose. And this year, your word is WORD?
Yeah, I know. A little too on the nose, as my husband laughingly said. But bear with me, LOL.
I sat down last Saturday to prayerfully consider my word, and I decided to start the day with the liturgical readings. December 27 is the feast day of St. John the Apostle…as in, the Gospel and Letter writer. John, known for his poetic opening lines that we all know so well:
In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. 2 He was in the beginning with God. 3 All things were made through him, and without him was not any thing made that was made. 4 In him was life, and the life was the light of men. 5 The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it. … 14 And the Word became flesh and dwelt among us, and we have seen his glory, glory as of the only Son from the Father, full of grace and truth.
Other options on my shortlist were rejoice, peace, light-bearer, and reflect. All things I saw in that scripture reading, all things which resonated with that pivotal word: the Word. The logos, as it is in Greek–a word with so complex a meaning that its entry in the lexicon is pages long.
Word. We might think of it as something simple–but it is far from it. It’s a creative force, the thing by which, the person through which, the entirety of the universe was created.
Words. Those things as critical to me as air. The things through which we communicate not only with each other but with God. The things by which I make my living.
I love words. This is no surprise. I am a self-proclaimed “word nerd.” I love the history of words, those etymologies I bring you every Monday. I love playing with them, finding new turns of phrase, using them to bring people and places and events to life for my readers.
But as I considered choosing such an obvious word as WORD for my “word of the year” (see how many times I had to use it just in that sentence? LOL. RIDICULOUS!), I nearly dismissed it for its lack of subtlety…but couldn’t, because it summed up what I want my focus to be this year.
I plan to write a LOT. I plan to read a lot. This is a given.
But as I’m writing and reading, I don’t want my focus only to be on my words. I want my focus to be on the Word I’m striving to reflect. The Word who shone in the darkness and who made me to be His light-bearer too, casting His light into all the dark places in our own hearts–in my heart. I want to cling to the Word who breathes peace into my heart even through troubles and travails and hard seasons. I want to shout the Word who puts joy in my heart and encourages me to rejoice in all things.
He is the Word of joy, of peace, of light that we are to carry forth and reflect.
So yes, for a writer, choosing WORD as my “word of the year” might seem like overkill. But as I write at least 7 books in the next calendar year (quite likely more), there are going to be a lot of words spilling out of my mind, through my fingers, and onto the page. Words that I hope entertain you, yes. Words that I hope keep you company and make you smile.
But this year, as I’ll yet again be going through cancer treatments, I’m keenly aware of how important each word I speak, write, pray, read, and think really are.
Our words are how the world knows us. Our words are how our thoughts are shaped; and those thoughts become our beliefs and our actions. Our words are forceful, creative things–and they can also be destructive things.
I want to remain aware of how I’m using all of mine. I want to be sure that all my words are worthy of the Word.
I have long claimed as one of my guiding verses 1 Samuel 3:19, where it says that the Lord was with Samuel as he grew up, and “none of his words fell to the ground.”
That has always been my prayer as a writer. That none of my words fall to the ground, useless or destructive. I want my words to edify. To glorify Him.
What better word to guide a year that may well rack up more words in my count than any before?
Lord, let my words be a reflection of Your Word (the Bible) and Your Word (Jesus). May this year be one in which I remain always aware of the power you put in each of our hands with this gift of speech, of writing.
May 2026 be a year of light shining in the darkness. A year in which He speaks peace into our lives and hearts. A year of praises sung to Him, with shouts of the words “Glory!” and “Hallelujah!” May each word we choose to let into our lives be ones of edification…words worthy of the Word.
Have you chosen a Word of the Year for 2026? I’d love for you to share it with me!
Usually I do my Reflection on my Word of the Year on the last Thursday of the year…but with New Year’s being on Thursday, that’s when I have new Word of the Year post, so I decided to put this on the last Monday instead. (Because I sure wasn’t going to do it on Christmas. And, hey, it’s my blog and I make the rules. Right? LOL. Had to remind myself of that…)
On January 1, 2025, I shared what words I had prayerfully considered for 2025, and how I landed on choose…and chosen. I ended the post with these thoughts:
There will always be things beyond our control–I know that better now than ever. But I also know that my choices still matter, even in those times.
I will choose joy. I will choose faith. I will choose relationships. I will choose love. I will choose dreams that honor God. I will choose helping others. I will choose the things that last.
I shared how, in 2024 (which shall forever be known in my life as The Year of Cancer Treatments), I became so aware of all the things we don’t get to choose in life…but how even in them, what we do get to choose is more important than ever. I shared how the choices I made for my health were all with the goal of not going through cancer again. I shared how I’d learned anew in 2024 and wanted to carry with deliberation into 2025 how crucial it is that we choose our responses, our priorities, and even our dreams with wisdom and prayer.
It’s now the end of the year. How did I do with this word?
Well, I’ll admit it–when I realized the end of the year was coming, and hence this reflection post, I stared blankly at my screen and thought, “What was my word? Seriously, what was my word? I have no idea.”
Insert headslap here.
It’s not uncommon for me to have to remind myself throughout the year of what it was. With the exception of Intentional, it’s never as front-and-center as I hope it will be, at least not consciously. But I can usually jog my memory pretty easily and pull it out, dust it off. This year…nope. I had to look it up.
But in my defense, that’s because it’s been a crazy last quarter, LOL. And when I did look it up and went, “Oh, yeah…riiiiiiight,” I could also smile. Because even though I’d forgotten Choose was my word, I never forgot the importance of choosing, just as I’d laid out in my January 1st post.
I had, in that post, a list of bullet points of things we get to choose, no matter what:
Choosing my reactions is something I’ve thought a lot about over a lot of years, and certainly something that remained at the forefront of my mind and heart in 2025. There were the “little” things–choosing my reaction when my 19-year-old daughter said she might get a tattoo. Choosing my reaction when editors invited me to different projects. Choosing my reaction when someone doesn’t like one of my stories.
But then, in October, there was the big thing. Choosing my reaction when my doctors informed me I had a tumor in my brain. When they told me I needed brain surgery to remove it. When they told me it was cancer…again.
I knew, as I stood in those moments, that I could not choose to not have a new tumor. But I could choose how I took the news. I could choose what words to use to share it. I could choose whether to be open and vulnerable or closed off. I could choose whether to hope or despair. I could choose to shout, “Why, God? WHY?” or admit, “I don’t want to do this again, Lord…but I know my future is in Your hand.” I could choose to deny this new truth. Or I could choose to let it shape me into who He wants me to be. I could choose not only to seek life but to embrace the perspective that comes with looking possible death in the face.
I chose. I chose faith. I chose hope. I chose vulnerability. I chose gratitude. I chose a new perspective. And friends, it made all the difference. I’m standing here knowing I’ll have treatments again for who-knows-how-long, but with peace in my heart. Certain that whatever happens, God will use it for His glory. At peace. Filled up. Ready to fly into the future on His wings.
Choosing my priorities. I have a lot on my plate. Enough that this was the year my agent replied privately to a book offer with, “Do I need to stage an intervention? Are you okay? This is a lot!” Yeah, Steve…it’s a lot, LOL. But for this season, I’ve chosen to say yes to stories. I’ve chosen to prioritize projects that will allow me to pay for my daughter’s college (ah, reality). I’ve chosen to pack my days to the brim with the things that are the very air I breathe: WORDS.
That doesn’t mean I haven’t dropped balls, especially when unexpected cancer treatments and scans interrupt my lovely schedule. I have. Some of my priorities have shifted through the year, and others have been neglected unintentionally.
But each new week, when I write out my list of things to do by Friday, I am very aware of a new chance to prioritize. To take care of things. To choose my focus.
Some days, I ignore all that. In the week after learning about the tumor, I admit it–I neglected the “things to do” on my list. I re-prioritized on the fly, and I decided that the most important thing I could do was work through this. So I wrote a story I didn’t have to, maybe that I shouldn’t have focused on yet. I choose that, and looking back, it was one of the most joyful ten days of the year. Then, right after learning about a new health crisis. So I don’t regret that choice one bit. It was exactly what I needed to do.
Choosing to find joy and delight. That last one is a prime example of this too, LOL. Now, I’m a naturally cheerful person. I am Optimist Prime. Joy is my default, not something I have to strive for most of the time. So this feels a little like cheating, to actually list it. One of those things I can usually just automatically check off. Yep–joyful! But there are certainly challenges to it day to day, and I think I did a pretty good job of not sitting too long in the dark places, even though I granted them their place, felt through the emotions. And then chose joy once more.
Choosing who and what I welcome into my daily routine. While I admit I haven’t been great at this all year–usually my routines are pretty much determined by that to-do list for the week–I did run a beta test version of a program I’ve called Writers’ Cross Training, which is all about choosing how we balance the important things in our lives day to day. Writing, education, marketing…but also spiritual growth, family life, exercise, and food choices.
I still have some tweaks to make to the program, but going through it with a handful of friends was not only fun but encouraging, as we held each other accountable for twelve weeks and really focused on how we’re meeting the needs of all those different parts of ourselves and our world. How we’re making those daily choices about what to put into our routine, into our day.
I think I need a revisit! 😉
Choosing what I’ll ponder, meditate on, and dwell on. Basically, we get to choose what we think about. And I gotta say, there were quite a few times when worry tried to creep in this year, and I deliberately said, “Nope. You know what I’m going to think about instead?” Usually, spoiler alert, it was stories. 😉 And in those moments, usually my fantasy stories, because there’s something very freeing about thinking about a world so far out of this world. But I also spent plenty of time developing my historical romances and my contemporary characters too!
Choosing to remain faithful to God and His calling, to my friends and family, to my own dreams. I think, when you’ve already focused on the items above, this one comes along for the ride. When I chose faith above worry in the health crisis, that was also a decision to remain faithful to Him. Though it also required asking some questions about how my calling might change–and where it wouldn’t–if. If this new pop-up of cancer was more serious, what would that mean? How would I honor God’s calling if my strength failed? How would I help support my family if I couldn’t keep up the pace I’d set for myself? There aren’t easy, pat answers to these questions, but asking them made me so much more aware of how God permeates every facet of life. How even when we’re weak, He doesn’t just cradle us, He continues to use us to reach others.
Coming off a year of radiation treatments, seven contracted books due, travel for conferences, a reconstruction surgery that looks like it’s failing thanks to that irradiated skin on the right side, the joy of seeing one of my stories on the stage, an AMAZING retreat with my P&P ladies, and a list of books I want to write (and read!) and things I want to do that are infinitely growing and already longer than I am tall…I think I’ve done pretty good on this one. There’s always room for improvement, of course. In all of those things. But I have chosen to pursue them. And in so doing, have also addressed that next one on the list, choosing where to stretch toward bigger dreams, more challenges, and distant goals.
Seven books in a year is a stretch, friends! The most I’d done before cancer was six, and that felt slightly insane. But I said yes to seven because I wanted to take on each individual project, and I’ve managed it! I also have seven slated for 2026, so we’ll see how it goes with infusions every three weeks.
And finally…
Choosing when and how to rest. Sometimes this feels like an indulgence–like when I took two weeks at the beach in September, since those two weeks were cheaper than one week in June, and I used one of them as a writing retreat. Or when I close down the computer with tasks still remaining undone, acknowledging that my mind is done for the day, and head for the couch and a book. When I choose a nap after church rather than some of the “doing” that needs done around the house.
And it also means acknowledging when “rest” looks different. Sometimes (not always!) writing is rest. Sometimes clearing those design projects off my plate before focusing on a writing deadline is rest. Sometimes taking a walk is rest. Sometimes ignoring the book and instead curling up against my husband in front of the fireplace and talking is rest.
Rest isn’t one thing we do. Rest is what, in that moment, will bring peace and allow you to unspool a bit. I’m still not always great at it, I can admit that.
But I must have done a decent job this year. Because while some years I arrive at December burnt out and overwhelmed and desperate for a few weeks off of life as I focus on Christmas, this year I arrived at December with a song on my lips, joy in my heart, ideas bursting, and energy to keep on tackling everything. Some days or weeks still feel overwhelming, but I’ve learned that in those times, it’s more important than ever to step away from the to-do list and rest.
So here we are, at the end of 2025. A year that certainly didn’t go quite how I planned it, but which I still chose to find joy in–and then found that joy far surpassed anything I could have made on my own.
It was a year with an unexpected award, when The Collector of Burned Books won the Christianity Today Fiction Book of the Year award. A year when I first got to see people bringing a story to life with the Fidele Youth Dance Company’s production of Christmas at Sugar Plum Manor. It was a year of viral posts about book bans, hard health news, and new friendships. A year of STORY. A year of laughter. A year of tears.
2025, for all its bad news, was a good year. Looking back over it, tears flood my eyes, but they’re not sad tears. They’re grateful tears.
I chose. I did. And God met me there. He met in the hardship and He met me in the fear, and He gave me joy instead. He gave me peace. He gave me the promise that the future is always bright when we focus on the Light. And our story is always one of victory when we focus on the Word.