Since I’m a little techno challenged and haven’t figured out how to put one of those handy little newsletter sign ups in the side bar yet, I’ll have to do it the old fashioned way and ask you to email me at portraitwriter (at) gmail (dot) com if you’d like to receive my newsletter.

If you’re thinking, NOT ANOTHER NEWSLETTER, I’m right there with you, but I promise I will try and make mine a little different and more relevant to YOU! For starters, I won’t be publishing one every month, only every two-three months! Plus with the title Interlude: A Moment of Pause in a Life of Interruptions, you can imagine what the focus will be…think of it as a deep breath, a pause in the middle of your day. My goal is to focus on balancing life while nurturing faith and family. My first newsletter is an introduction to me and what’s been happening in my life lately. Each time I publish, I hope it will evolve to deeper and more meaningful content!

So if you’re interested, either email me, or leave a comment with your email! I should be sending it out soon!

I don’t want to be throwing around false information, if it’s not true, but these videos are very compelling.

WARNING! GRAPHIC VIDEO OF ABORTED BABIES! I dare you not to be moved after watching this!

I really wanted to put the video here on my blog, but thought the still image was too much for some.

That’s right! Fruit! It’s a new Green way to clean laundry. Well, actually it’s not new. People have been using this fruit to clean for centuries. Then how come I’m just learning about it!

Laundry Tree  has a product called Soap Nuts (really fruit) that cleans an entire load of laundry with about three pieces on nut-looking fruit and you can use the nuts up to four time!!! I see soooo many possibilities, like making room in my laundry room by getting rid of that HUGE box of Armon Hammer Laundry detergent, and cutting down on the chemicals! This product/fruit is said to make your skin and clothes feel really soft! It’s great for people with sensitive skin.

I’m writing this post as a reminder to myself to check them out, especially if I don’t win the free give away over at Bloggy giveaways! Haven’t checked on the price yet, but I’m hoping it’s as good as the product sounds!

Well, the inspections didn’t tell us anything we didn’t already except, just from observations and talking with our realtor. It needed a new roof, three heating and air systems (told you it was BIG,) the air ducts had some rust in them, it was on a septic system, the yard needed some tree removal, needed a new dishwasher, stove, several wet bar replacements, paint…

But that didn’t deter my hubby. As I type he’s finishing up painting our current dining room, and plans to lay wood floor this week. You see, he’s a jack of all trades. There’s probably nothing he can’t tackle. So the fixer upper list didn’t scare him. In his former life he was a heating and air tech, and later found out the air ducts weren’t rusted through and just needed a good cleaning and the city planned to put the neighborhood on the city line, taking out the septic, but in order to inspect the septic they had to have it pumped. The pool was never inspected, so the bank drained the pool, had it inspected and did some repairs. Then my hubby in his infinite wisdom and resourcefulness decided to call some insurance people to check on the roof. It’s uninsurable, so the bank has to put on a roof. That’s saving us a big chunk of change.

So back to the present. We’re frantically trying to pack and up date our home of 12 years to sell quickly. Say a prayer it does. We’ll be putting it on the market ASAP!

On a side note to this adventure, last Friday we had the carpet installers come. They came with about six very nice, hardly speaking English people and started to tear up the carpet. They layed down the pad and were raring to go, but when they went to pick up the carpet, the carpet store was closed! 4:00 on a Friday! What? Were they playing golf or something and why didn’t the carpet store know they were on their way? I don’t think it was the installers fault. The guy who sold us the carpet didn’t seem to have it all together. First time he measured our home it took him 2 hours…

So our upstairs looked like this last weekend! They didn’t come back until Monday! I had to lay towels along the wall to protect us all from the nails. And that bed on the floor, our bed! Think air mattress that slowly looses air by the morning!

But I count it all fodder! How many people actually have an installation go as planned? Come one people, tell me your horror stories! I’m sure mine was a walk in the park compared to some of yours out there!

I think it’s about time I update this blog on what’s happening on the Home Front. We’re moving, in less than a month. When did we find out, about three weeks ago and we’ve been frantically packing and painting to put our house on the market.

The whole thing is such a God thing and I’m really not complaining on the timing of it all, it’s just a lot of stress and work. Here’s the story.

We’ve been thinking about moving for years, but couldn’t stand to think of leaving our 80 year old neighbors who are like family. But we seemed to be busting at the seams. So we decided to go to a couple of Parade of Homes, then we got a Realtor and the homes he was showing us, just didn’t cut it. Some were very beautiful, but didn’t have the right amount of rooms, some had the right rooms, but wrong sizes and so on. You see, several years ago I saw my dream home. It had a walkout basement in a town where basements aren’t the norm. Upstairs it had four bedrooms and a game room, the main floor had a master suite, dining, kitchen, guest room, living room. You get the picture. Beautiful and big and out of our price range. But I kept holding on to the dream. Maybe some day!

I almost let go of the dream this summer. In fact, after looking at all the homes we could afford and realizing they were nothing like our dream home, I resigned that it wasn’t going to happen for us, even though I knew God could make it happen. In fact, friends of ours got a steal on a 5,000 square foot home for under $400,000. It was a fixer upper, probably a foreclosure and I kept telling my hubby, that’s the kind of deal I wanted. So even though I believed it could happen, I didn’t expect it to happen.

That’s when hubby spilled the beans. He was looking at this big home, with a walk out basement and a pool, but it was a real fixer upper. I was shocked! When my hubby looks at something, he’s seriously considering it. You see, he’s the guy that will mull something over for months, but when he makes a decision it’s full speed ahead.

So he reluctantly showed it to me. He wanted my reaction. His initial thoughts on the home was if it’s something I really wanted, he’d make it work…for a while. You see, his vision was to fix it up, live in it for a few years and sell it. Not exactly what I wanted to hear, but the price was so far below value (when fixed up) I thought I’d at least give it a chance. I had seen photos of it and it looked almost perfect.

Then I saw it! Let’s just say the smell didn’t bring a smile to my face. It smelled musty, and old, even though it was built in 1985. But it had been locked up for two years, so an airing out was an easy fix. Then I saw the carpet in the main room. Big stain that left me thinking, “who died here?” Later found out the story on the house was a couple from India paid cash for this big home, and his work deal fell through and they couldn’t keep it. Okay, at least it wasn’t a crime scene.

As I went through the house I realized alot of the stuff I saw was cosmetic. I didn’t love the house, but it had possibilities and the profit we could potentially make was appealing! So we started the process, put in a bid and lost the bid. The bank (who owned the home) didn’t like our stipulation of putting a roof on it, so we went off to Florida worry free! We’d been worrying and praying all along that this was too big an undertaking and maybe we were running the numbers wrong. If we didn’t get the house, we knew it wasn’t meant to be.

But when we returned home from vacation we found out the people who won the bid declined the house. We were next in line, but why did they refuse the home? We’d have to see the inspections to know! But I’ll save that for tomorrow!

I’ve really been meaning to write so more details about our trip to Orlando, visiting the Holy Land (in Orlando,) St. Augustine and drinking from the Fountain of Youth. But these photos will have to suffice for now!

ICRS: Meeting great authors and cool friends!

Susan May Warren, prolific writer and blogger at Writer…Interrupted

Amy Wallace, Me, Mark Myhneir, Marlo Schalesky

 

Meeting the President, er John Morgan

Meeting Kirk Cameron, really! It was late and we all were exhausted!

And seeing the premiere of  FireProof

Hubby got a kick out of seeing this road sign and made me take a photo of it!

St. Augustine, Florida Day One

Swimming in the ocean, wave jumping and

collecting sea shells. We came home with four small bags to add to our collection over the years

which is turning into a small beach!

Islands of Adventure Day Two

We picked a winner of a day to go! Hardly any wait on the lines and the weather was a pleasant 80 degrees!

Hanging with cousins!

Grace didn’t want to take a picture with Shrek, so I did,

and SHE took the picture! Pretty darn good, even though I wasn’t looking!

Dunah, Dunah, Dunah, Dunah, Dunah… Gottcha, Grace! All the kids posed in the mouth of JAWS!

The Holy Land, Orlando

Parting the Red Sea

Hanging with the Hebrews!

 

Can you say “Cheesy?”

 

But we thoroughly enjoyed the shows, especially musical resurrection reenactment and the worship through the ages! I really felt the spirit of God at the end, and couldn’t help but have church, maybe it’s because on vacation we sort of missed going!  The Scriptorium was awesome! Rooms and rooms full of authentic Bibles through the ages, dating way back and written by monks in Hebrew and other languages.

We drank from the Fountain of Youth and it tasted bitter, like sulfur, but Ponce DeLeon thought it tasted sweet! Can’t imagine what the water on the boat tasted like!

Did you know the average European was 4 foot 6 inches and Ponce DeLeon was tall at 4 foot 11 inches. When he got to Florida and met the native Indians there who lived well into their 60s and 70s (average European lived to mid 30s) and were much taller, the thought he had found the Fountain of Youth. But it was actually the Indians healthy way of life and they didn’t have the disease the Europeans had. Ponce DeLeon shipped the Fountain of Youth Water back to Europe and drank it the rest of his life, which was very long, into his 60s when he died in an Indian fight (I think) and not of old age!

Those are the highlights! Maybe one day I’ll get around to putting the photos in an album!

I’m blogging at Faith Lifts today!

Visit me here!

I can’t believe we’re into the second week of school ! Where has the summer gone?

Seems like I just packed up the kids uniforms, and now I’m dragging them down from the attic. Well, actually my oldest, who is now taller than, me pulled them down from the attic! But he also out grew his pants, so we had to buy some new school uniforms. Which reminds me, I still need to pick up his pants from the tailor!

Mid summer the school supply list came in the mail! Binders, Notebooks and Backpacks…Oh, My! I wish I would have known about EZ School Supplies before I traipsed to Walmart (several times,) fought the crowds and went searching for hidden and missing school supplies.

They recently sent me a sample of their products and they have it all. Crayola crayons, construction paper, scissors, everything I already bought at Walmart. Think of the time I could have saved if my school was signed up for this program. I just sent an email off to them, maybe it’s not too late. If not this year, next year.

Maybe it’s not too late for you! All your school has to do is register their supply list with EZ School Supplies. The greatest thing about this program is your school gets 10% of the purchase. So tell your schools! It’s never too late to get your school signed up! I’m sure there are many moms waiting until the last minute for those school supplies.

Right now their even holding a favorite teacher contest and EZ Schools is offering 10% off to my readers! I told you they were great, didn’t I!

I’m so excited to introduce you to Michelle Sutton aka Edgy Fiction Writer, who I met several years ago at an ACFW conference. Michelle is an awesome person and writer and I’m so excited to be part of her blog tour for her first release. I feel like I’ve traveled part of the road with her towards this publication. She’s editor of Christian Fiction Blog Alliance Magazine, manages her own blog and online communities, is a great marketer and mom who works a nine to five, is ACFWs Volunteer Officer, and throws one great Chocolate party. Whew! Welcome Michelle!

Tell us a little about your family and your call to write.

I’ve been married for 18 years this month. I have two sons, and both are teens in high school. I felt the call to write in August 2003. So this month is my fifth anniversary for me as a writer as well.

How did you get your first “writing break?”

Hmm…not sure what you mean by writing break? If you mean sold my first story? That was back during the summer of 2007, I think. Before that I finaled in some contests.

What do you write and why this genre?

I write women’s fiction and romance. The series I sold happens to be YA because the story came out that way. But it’s not my primary genre.

Do you have any recent contracts and up coming releases?

Other than the book I’ve written and sequels? I have one that I’m signing a contract on next month, but can’t announce that yet. I’m hoping for another contract for a three book series and it’s looking positive, but no guarantees until the offer is made. That’s up to the Lord whether or not I do an additional project.

What do you hope to accomplish through your novels?

I hope to introduce people to characters who make them think differently about things. I want my readers to see how good God is despite their circumstances and how he can redeem any situation.

And now for the tough questions…

How do you balance being a mom, wife, and writer?

It’s weird, but I tend to be most productive when I’m busy. I was like that in college, too. I got my best grades when I had a full course load and a full-time job.

Do you think it’s possible to give yourself fully to raising children, writing, and keeping in shape? If not, which one for you has to take a back seat?

LOL! I guess right now my back side is taking a back seat. Oy. Gone are the days when I could exercise every day. I need sleep more than a jog down the street.

When do you find the time to write, and do you ever feel like you’re neglecting your children when you write?

Nope. My boys are maintenance free. Easy as pie. They are teen boys. They do their chores, get all As in school, and are all-around decent kids. We enjoy each other’s company and do things together but for the most part they can take care of themselves. I’ve been living blissfully for the past three years with virtually no hassles. No, I’m not lying.

Man, you’re a lucky dog, or just an awesome mom!

How do you handle interruptions in your writing life?

I just go with the flow. Honestly, I can’t focus on all that is undone or I’d go nuts. So one day at a time. That’s how I manage. I do the best I can every day and hope I can keep up reasonably well.

How do you get back into the flow of writing after you’ve been interrupted?

I try to write when no one is around. If I am interrupted I stop and do what needs to be done, then go back to it as soon as I can.

What do you do to encourage yourself during those stormy days every writing mom has?

Haven’t had any stormy days in a long time. The first few years my hubby and kids wondered about why I spent so much time on the computer writing stories and I felt like I needed to sell something to justify my time spent writing. But they all agreed that it was going to happen in God’s timing and I was called to write. They’ve been very supportive.

Sounds a lot like me!

How do you position yourself to HEAR God’s voice when all the noises of life are swirling around you?

Through music and quiet time. Sometimes I hear him while reading a novel. Or even better, I hear and feel Him when I’m writing my own stories.

If you do feel your priorities slipping, what do you do to get back on track?

I take a break when I need to. That’s all I can do.

Has there ever been a time God told you to set aside your writing to focus on other areas of your life? If so, how did you handle that?

Not really. I don’t spend a lot of time writing. The last full novel I completed (not this series) was finished in three and a half months and it was over 100,000 words.

Did you ever feel like you’ve “missed” God in regards to writing, that maybe you should be doing something else?

Nope.

What advice would you give to writing moms who are have their hearts set on publication?

Keep working on your writing and don’t get discouraged when things take longer than you’d like. God is preparing you in advance for what will come, and whatever His will may be for your life.

Is there anything else you’d like to share?

Nope. Just that Gina is a fabulous writer and friend.

Oww, thanks. So are you! And your chocolate parties rock! Can’t wait to read your book!

I know, you didn’t even know they were gone. If I only had enough time to blog about everything that’s going on in my life. If only you twittered, you might know more, then again, you might not since I didn’t even have time to twitter this!

But something really cool about my boys’ school is that during the first week of school all the Jr. and Sr. high students and teachers get away for a fun filled weekend. Last year was my oldest’s first year. This year Joey got to go for the first time.

They only went for one night, but they came back with fun lake stories to tell, and bonding memories with old and new friends. I spoke to one of the dads who chaperoned. He looked beat, said all the kids had fun didn’t sleep much, but my boys insist they did. Guess I’ll find out later. We’re going to the theatre to support their friends in a production of Beauty and the Beast, the classic version.

Back to the school camp. What I love about this school is that it’s small and intimate enough that everyone feels like family. Teachers aren’t just teachers. They’re friends and mentors who like to hang out with the students. And students don’t mind their teachers being their friends on facebook!

When my kids go off to school I don’t have to worry much about them. I know they’re in good hands.

I just had to write about this new product. I think I got a bonus product for a review I did on some other product, but this is really praise worthy.

It’s like a baby wipe for your face. VERY handy for so many reasons. The first thing that came to mind for using these was camping. Why? You don’t need water and it’s a great way to take off your make up.

Use #2: Removal of stage make-up. When my boys were in the Jungle Book, I sent the facial wipes with them. It was great at removing stage make-up and so easy my boys could use it themselves, without help.

Use #3: On the road. During our road trip, it would have been great if I had remembered these. I could have used them in the hotel room, on the beach, the uses are endless.

No water needed to clean your face. Where would you use them?

I have an agent!

If you’ve been following my quest for an agent, then you know all about. If not you can read all about it! But the abbreviated version is that I’ve been prayerfully considering which agents I’d submit my proposal to.

I narrowed it down to two, got to know these agents over a course of two to three years, and when I had a finished WIP, I pitched them at an ACFW conference. They both requested it, and I spent the next year agonizing over how I would choose between the two. Being the coward that I can be at times, I prayed that only one would want to represent me while fully aware that either both or neither would want to touch this newbie!

Well, God answered my prayers and guided my path. And now I have an agent before ACFW, which was my goal.

Who is my agent? Chip MacGregor.

It’s so clear to me now how the hand of God was nudging me toward him from the time I met him and heard God speak to my heart saying, “Maybe the agent you want is not the one you need” to the time I showed up early to meet with another agent and Chip had just had a cancellation. That’s when I pitched my WIP and the ball started rolling.

I had certain criteria I was looking for in an agent and Chip fit the bill. I’m excited to work with him for a number of reasons, but mostly because God not only knew what I needed in an agent, but ultimately he gave me get exactly what I wanted as well!

I also dodged a real life fire 30 minutes ago! Hubby emptied the waterbed ’cause carpeters are installing tomorrow, and he left the heater on!!! I started to smell something plasticky. Thought it was paint from the bathroom. Ignored it for a while, but the smell got more intense and it was only upstairs. I dialed hubby, and he said, “oh, no. I didn’t turn the heater off.” I removed my comforter which I piled on my bed to make room for boxes, and lo’ and behold…It was SMOLDERING! The heater ate through the plastic cover and charred my comforter. Good thing I was planning on getting a new one and good thing my ol’ snaz was working! Or we wouldn’t have had a house to sell! Maybe I’ll get around to posting a photo later. But from the look of my house, don’t plan on it!

The night before Chris asked me if I was going to wake him up with a photo flash! I said, “no.” That was how I woke them up last year! But this year, well, no pictures on the first day of school. They’re in 6th and 8th grade, and quite grown up. In fact, Chris is taller than me!

Joey was excited about his first day in junior high. It’s the same school, just more teachers and more work. When he came home he said, “I don’t know why I was so excited for the first day, mom.”

Chris’ take on the first day. “It’s going to be a better year than last year.” Glad to hear it! Hope he brings that attitude home with him!

It’s the 21st, time for the Teen FIRST blog tour!(Join our alliance! Click the button!) Every 21st, we will feature an author and his/her latest Teen fiction book’s FIRST chapter!

D. Barkley Briggs

The Book of Names (Legends of Karac Tor)

NavPress Publishing Group (July 15, 2008)

Dean Barkley Briggs is an author, father of eight, and prone to twisting his ankle playing basketball. He grew up reading J.R.R. Tolkien, C.S. Lewis, Patricia McKillip, Guy Gavriel Kay, Stephen R. Donaldson, Ursila K. Leguin, Susan Cooper, Madeline L’Engle, Terry Brooks, Andre Norton and Lloyd Alexander (just to name a few)…and generally thinks most fantasy fiction pales in comparison. (Yes, he dabbled in sci-fi, too. Most notably Bradbury, Burroughs and Heinlein).

After losing his wife of 16 years, Briggs decided to tell a tale his four sons could relate to in their own journey through loss. Thus was born The Legends of Karac Tor, a sweeping adventure of four brothers who, while struggling to adjust to life without mom, become enmeshed in the crisis of another world. Along the way they must find their courage, face their pain, and never quit searching for home.

Briggs is remarried to a lovely woman, who previously lost her husband. Together with her four children, their hands are full.

Product Details

List Price: $12.99
Reading level: Young Adult
Paperback: 397 pages
Publisher: NavPress Publishing Group (July 15, 2008)
Language: English
ISBN-10: 160006227X
ISBN-13: 978-1600062278

Watch the Trailer:

Enter the Contest:

AND NOW…THE FIRST CHAPTER:

BLACK BIRDS

The day was gray and cold, mildly damp. Perfect for magic. Strange clouds overhead teased the senses with a fragrance of storm wind and lightning and the faint, clean smell of ozone. Invisible energy sparkled like morning dew on blades of grass.

Standing alone in an empty field on the back end of their new acreage, Hadyn Barlow only saw the clouds. By definition, you can’t see what’s invisible, and as for smelling magic? Well, let’s just say, unlikely. Hadyn saw what was obvious for late November, rural Missouri: leafless trees, dead grass, winter coming on strong. Most of all he saw (and despised) the humongous briar patch in front of him, feeling anew each and every blister and callous earned hacking through its branches.

Making room for cattle next spring, or so he was told; this, even though his dad had never owned a cow in his life. He was a history teacher for crying out loud. A college professor. Hadyn’s shoulders slumped. It didn’t matter. Everything was different now. Mr. Barlow didn’t let his boys curse, but low under his breath, Hadyn did, mildly, just to prove the point. Life stunk. That was the brutal truth.

All true for the most part. Yet standing alone in the field, bundled in flannel, something else prickled his skin—something hidden in the rhythm of the day, at its core—and it wasn’t just the chill wind. He couldn’t shake it. A sense of something. Out-of-placeness. Faced with a friendless sophomore year, Hadyn knew that feeling all too well. It attacked him every morning, right before school.

But this was something more, more than the usual nervousness and name-calling stuff. His intuition was maddeningly vague. Hadyn sniffed the air, eyeing the field. A fox scampered in the distance. Bobwhites whistled softly. This had been his routine for weeks. Go to school, come home, do chores. Today was no different. Except for the clouds.

He looked upwards, struck again by the strange hues. The colors were still there; kinda creepy. They had lingered since the bus ride home. He had seen it happen with his own eyes, though he didn’t think much of it at the time. Right about the time school let out and the yellow buses began winding home, the skies had opened and spilled. Low banks of clouds came tumbling from the horizon like old woolen blankets. Like that scene from Independence Day, when the alien ships first appeared. Hues of purple, cobalt and charcoal smeared together. Not sky blue. Not normal. Riding on the bus, face pressed against the cold window, he didn’t know what to think. Only that it looked…otherworldly. Like God had put Van Gogh in charge for the day.

Strange.

Earlier, the day hadn’t felt weird. If anything, he had felt relief. Two days until Friday…until Thanksgiving Break. Only two days. He could make it. Standing by the mailbox with his three brothers, waiting for the bus—he couldn’t wait to get his own car—mild winds had stirred from the south, scampering through row after row of brittle stalks in the neighbor’s cornfield across the road. He heard them in the leafless oak and elm of his own yard, hissing with a high, dry laughter. Warm winds, not cold. But about noon, the wind shifted. Again, no big deal for Missouri, always caught in the middle between the gulf streams of Mexico and Canada’s bitter cold. Temperamental weather was normal in these parts.

Yet there it was. From the winding ride home to this very moment, he couldn’t rid himself of that dry-mouthed, queasy feeling. It was more than a shift in wind. It was a shift in energy. Yes, the dark clouds and strange colors reminded him of the thickening air before a big, cracking Midwestern storm, but that wasn’t it. This was different.

Hadyn being Hadyn, more than anything else, wanted to identify the moment. To name it.

Though he didn’t actually verbalize until age three, Hadyn was born with a question mark wrinkled into his brows. Always searching, always studying something. He couldn’t speak a word before then—refused to, his dad always said—yet he knew the letters of the alphabet at a precocious 12 months. When he finally did decide to talk, words gushed. Full sentences. Big vocabulary. Not surprisingly, it was clear early on that Hadyn was one of those types bent toward structure, patterns. He hated incongruities, hated not knowing how to pinpoint the strange twist in sky and mood right in the middle of an otherwise typically dreary day. If it was just nasty weather, name it! What did it feel like? Wet fish guts? Not quite. A full wet diaper? He remembered those well enough from when the twins were little, but no. A three day old slice of cheese?

Yes, that was it. Cold, damp, moldy.

Velveeta, actually, he decided, feeling a small measure of satisfaction. He fumbled for the zipper of his coat as another icy breeze prickled his skin. Yep, another lousy Velveeta day in the life of Hadyn Barlow.

He thought of the roaring wood stove back home. Hot cocoa. Little consolation. Until dusk, the oldest Barlow boy was stuck outside in a field with hatchet and hedge shears. Stuck in a foul mood, stuck with a knot in his throat. Just plain stuck. His task, his life, seemed endless and pointless.

“Just a little bit every day, however much you can manage after school,” his father would remind him. “And don’t look so grumpy. The days are shorter and shorter.”

But not any warmer.

“Grr!” Hadyn grumbled aloud, snapping at the cold in his thoughts. He had chosen to “clear” the massive beast by carving tunnels in it, not just hacking mindlessly. Probably not exactly what Dad had in mind, but, well, to be honest, he didn’t really care. He was the one stuck out here in the cold. He had already carved several tunnels, and reentered the biggest one now, loping and clicking his shears at the endless mess of thorns and branches, alternated by halfhearted swings of the hatchet. The briar patch sprawled a couple hundred feet in every direction, comprised of dense, overgrown nettles, blackberry bushes and cottonweed. Untended for generations, the underbrush was so thick and tall a person could easily get lost in it, especially toward the center, where the land formed a shallow ravine that channeled wet weather rains toward the pond on the lower field. Hadyn guessed the height at the center point would be a good 12 feet or more. Enormous.

Really, it was a ridiculous task. Dad had to know that.

“Why not just burn the thing?” Hadyn had asked him. Burn it, then brush-hog it. Throw a hand grenade in and run.

Mr. Barlow never really answered, just said he wanted him to clear it by hand. After the first day of grumbling and complaining (which proved none too popular with his father), Hadyn started carving tunnels. His plan was to craft a maze out of it, maybe create a place to escape…at least have some fun before his dad made him level the whole thing

Fun? He caught himself, tasting the word like a spoonful of Nyquil. Fun is soccer with the guys back home.

He paused for a moment to wipe his brow. Home was no longer a city, not for four months now. It was a cow pasture. Home had been Independence, the suburb of Kansas City whose chief claim to fame (other than being the birthplace of Harry S. Truman) was that Jesus would return there, at least according to one of numerous Mormon splinter groups. For Hadyn, it was all about skateboards and traffic and rows of houses. Noise. Friends. Now, all that—everything familiar and good—was exactly three hours and nineteen minutes straight across I-70 on the opposite end of the state. Might as well have been on the opposite side of the planet. Home now: three hundred acres in the middle of nowhere, away from all he had ever known.

The town was called Newland. The name seemed like a smack in the face.

New town. New school. New faces. New troubles to deal with. New disappointments. His dad had tried to make a big deal of the “new” thing. This would be a new start for their family, a new chapter, blah, blah, blah. A change, from sadness to hope, he said. Hadyn hated change.

He didn’t want new. He wanted it how it used to be.

How it used to be was happy. Normal. Right. Fair. How it used to be meant they were a family of six, not five. Hadyn felt a familiar pang slice across his chest. He would have traded all the unknown magic in the world for five more minutes with—

Mom…

It had been a year since she died. His mental images of her remained vivid, of a beautiful woman with porcelain smooth skin, naturally blonde, witty, vivacious. All four Barlow brothers shared her spunky attitude, as well as an even mix of their parents’ coloring: mom’s fairness, dad’s darker hair and complexion, the boys somewhere in between. Hadyn, rapidly entering his adult body, was tall for his age, muscular, lean, possessed of a sometimes uncomfortably aristocratic air. Some days his eyes were smoky jade, others, iron gray. But he had Anna’s cleverness.

His parents had been saving money for several years, studying the land all around Newland. Hadyn could not fathom why. What was so special about Podunk, America? But he knew his mom had been happy to think about life in the country. Once upon a time, that was enough. But now? Without her, what was the point? Why couldn’t they have just stayed in Independence? Moving wasn’t going to bring her back. Didn’t Dad know that?

For the second time that afternoon, a tidal wave of loneliness nearly drowned him, left him in a goo of self-pity, the sort of sticky feeling he didn’t want anyone to spoil by cheering him up. He took one more angry swing. Done or not, he was done for the day. Work could wait. Dad would just have to deal with it. Already, he had built a pretty impressive maze, though. Six unconnected tunnels so far.

Like I give a rip about these stupid tunnels, he thought as he crawled from the center toward the mouth of the largest, longest shaft. Or this stupid land, or town, or patch of—his knee jammed against a thorn protruding from the soil—thorny! ridiculous!…

He clenched his jaw, flashing through dozens of choice words, using none. Honoring his dad. Pain streamed as tears down his cheek, and it wasn’t just the thorn in his knee. It was life. Crawling forty more feet, he emerged to face the slowly westering sun melting down the sky. The otherworldly colors he had seen earlier were gone. Only the cold remained. And now, a bleeding, sore knee.

Behind him, he heard heard rustling grass and the high pitched, lilting notes of his brother’s tin whistle. He wiped his eyes on his sleeve and grimaced. Ewan, like his mother, was musical. Even more like her, he was sentimental. He often carried the whistle she had brought him as a gift from Ireland. It would, no doubt, have seemed humorous to some, to see him wandering the field, playing a spritely little tune. It only annoyed Hadyn. Thankfully, as Ewan drew closer, the song trailed away.

“Hey, Hadyn.”

Hadyn grunted. “What do you want?”

Ewan shrugged, tucking the flute into his back pocket. He wore blue jeans, and a blue embroidered ball cap, initialed ‘ECB’.

“Wondered how things were going.”

“Dad sent you to help, didn’t he?”

Ewan frowned. “Yep. Got done with my chores sooner than planned.”

“Bummer.”

“Major bummer,” Ewan emphasized. “Looks like you’re near the center, though. That’s pretty cool.”

Hadyn didn’t reply. With only two years between them, the two brothers had always been the closest of friends, the fiercest competitors, the quickest of combatants. They understood each other’s rhythms like no one else in the family. Whereas Hadyn was studied, wise and cautious, Ewan was quick, fearless and comfortable with long odds. No one could make Ewan laugh—gasping-for-air, fall-on-the-ground-cackling—like Hadyn. Likewise, Ewan could frustrate Hadyn to no end, or, with the sheer power of silliness, cheer him up when a sullen moment was about to strike. Not much wanting to be rescued from his mood at the moment, however, Hadyn let his silent response wrap around him like a barrier against further penetration. He didn’t notice that Ewan’s gaze had drifted from the briar patch to the low sky and paused there.

“What do you make of that?” he dimly heard his brother say, distracted, curious. Through the haze of his own thoughts, Hadyn followed Ewan’s line of sight, his pointing finger, straight into the sunset. At first, he saw nothing. Then it was obvious. Several large, black birds were swooping low on the horizon. Even at a distance, it appeared they were headed straight for the two boys, unveering over the slope of the ground, drawing swiftly nearer, a hundred yards or so away. From the sound of their raucous cry, they were like ravens, only larger, throatier, and if possible, blacker.

“Cawl-cawl,” they cried.

Hadyn counted four total, wings outstretched, unflapping, like stealth bombers in formation. There was something organized and determined about their flight. It lacked animal randomness.

“Do they look strange to you?” Ewan asked, cocking his head.

Hadyn pretended to be uninterested. It didn’t last. “What is that in their claws? What’re they carrying?”

“Yeah, I see it. Sticks?”

“Too thick. It would be too heavy. Wouldn’t it?”

“Hard to tell at this angle. Are they heading for us?” Ewan held up his hand to shield his eyes. “Man, they’re fast. What are they?”

“I don’t know, but they’re still—”

“Look out!” Ewan dove to the side, tripping Hadyn in the process. Both boys hit the ground on a roll, turning just in time to see the birds swoop suddenly upward, arcing high into the sky, turn, then turn again. The lead bird, larger than the others, croaked loudly; the other three responded. Over and over, the same phrase, like a demand: “Cawl!”

All four were pitch black, having none of the deep blue sheen of a crow’s feathers, or so it seemed in the failing light. They flew as black slashes in the sky, all wing and beak, not elegant in the air, but fast. Disappearing completely against the lightless eastern expanse, they reappeared again as silhouettes skimming the western horizon. At first it seemed to Hadyn the birds would fly away, as they swept up and out in a wide arc. But the curve of their path soon came full circle. They were attempting another pass. Both boys nervously scooted further outside the angle of the birds’ approach.

“What in the world?” Hadyn said, hatchet raised and ready. It was clearer now in silhouette form. Each bird carried the form of a long, thick tube in their talons.

The brothers hunched on the ground, motionless, muscles tensed, watching as the birds continued their second approach. Hadyn held his breath. The birds didn’t veer, nor aim again for the boys. Instead, they formed a precise, single-file line, a black arrow shooting toward the main tunnel of the thicket. With a final loud croak—“Cawl!”—and not a single flap of wing, all four swooped straight into the hole, one after the other. As they did, each released the object clutched in its talons. The tubes clattered together with a light, tinny sound at the mouth of the tunnel, literally at the boys’ feet. The birds were already beyond sight. Their throaty noise echoed for a moment, evaporating into an obvious silence marked only by the faint breeze of wings passing over broken grass.

Hadyn and Ewan stared first at the tunnel, then at the objects. Then at each other. Then back at the tunnel. In the same instant, each of them leaped toward what the birds had left behind: four thin, black metallic tubes, trimmed with milky white bands at top and bottom.

Hadyn slowly stretched out his hand and picked up a tube. He rolled it between his fingers. It was about the length of Ewan’s Irish whistle, but thicker, maybe the circumference of a quarter. Not heavy at all. In the middle of each tube, finely wrought in scripted gold filigree, the letter ‘A’ appeared.

Ewan lightly shook his tube, listening for clues to its contents. It sounded hollow.

“They didn’t even have us sign for delivery,” he deadpanned. “What do we do with these? They look important.”

“How should I know?” Hadyn said contemptuously, flicking his eyes cautiously toward the tunnel. “Where’d they even go? I mean, really. Are they just hiding back there until we leave?”

“Who cares!” Ewan said. His disgust was obvious. Hadyn’s was being an analyst again. “This isn’t hard, Hadyn. Some big birds dive bombed us. They dropped these cool tubes. It makes no sense. It’s awesome. Totally, factor 10 cool.”

Hadyn mulled it over. “Maybe they’re some sort of carrier pigeon, but…do carrier pigeons even fly anymore?

“Only on Gilligan’s Island. TV Land. Listen to me, you’re just guessing.”

“Have you got a better idea?” Hadyn demanded.

Ewan waited, considered. Hadyn knew he hated being put on the spot like that, in the inferior position. Now it was Ewan’s turn to think.

“Okay, maybe you’re right. Maybe those birds really are carriers of some sort?—” Ewan held up a tube, “—obviously they are. What if they need to carry these things farther still? What if they’re just resting? What if they are trained to do this when they need to rest? Drop their packages, find a hole, rest, then grab their stuff and carry on?”

“So…are you suggesting we flush them out? Cause there is no way I’m going to crawl back there. They can get out later on their own.”

Ewan didn’t reply. Instead he dug into his pocket, pulled out a small flashlight, and scuttled into the tunnel the birds had entered. “Wait here,” he ordered.

“Hey, watch it back there!” Hadyn cautioned. Secretly, he wanted him to go, knew how to punch his brother’s buttons to make it happen. “Those claws looked sharp!”

While he waited for Ewan to return, Hadyn examined the tubes further. He shook one tube, flicked it, smelled another; picked up and twirled the third and fourth tubes. His efforts yielded the same muffled sensation of something barely shifting inside. Maybe a rolled up piece of paper? If the ravens (or crows, or whatever they were) were carriers of some sort, a written message did make the most sense. But who in the world still sent paper messages…by bird? By raven, no less. Hello, email anyone?

Presently, Ewan reappeared, breathing hard.

“They’re gone,” he said simply. “Must have flown out one of the other tunnels.”

Hadyn creased his brow. “No way. None of the tunnels connect yet.”

“They don’t?” Ewan’s eyes widened as it dawned on him that he hadn’t seen any other tunnels. “No…they don’t.”

The two boys stared at one another in silence. Evening enfolded them; soon, darkness. “They must have crawled through the branches,” Hadyn surmised, but he hardly sounded convinced. “Are you sure you didn’t see them?”

Ewan rolled his eyes. “Hello? Big, black flappy things. Yes, I’m sure.” He grabbed one of the tubes, shook it again. “This band looks like ivory, but it’s hard to tell in this light.”

“Reminds me of one of mom’s necklaces.”

Ewan grabbed the end and twisted. “Only one way to find out.”

This time Hadyn didn’t argue or analyze. Curiosity had gotten the best of him. The lid twisted off with surprising ease, followed by a thin hiss of sealed air. Ewan wrinkled his face. “Smells old. Yuck. Turn on your flashlight. Mine is getting weak.”

He tapped the open end against the palm of his left hand. The coiled edge of a piece of thick, cream-colored parchment slipped out. Hadyn leaned in closer. Ewan gingerly teased the scroll out. It had a heavy grain of woven cotton, with rough edges trimmed in gold foil. Both boys let out a long slow breath. Neither the silver moon hung off the treeline, nor the winking stars, provided light enough to clearly see. Hadyn turned on his flashlight as his brother unrolled the parchment. The paper was larger than normal, rich to the touch. Pinning both ends to the ground, both boys read at once the simple message beautifully scripted on the inside in golden ink: “You have been chosen for a life of great purpose. Adventure awaits you in the Hidden Lands.”

“Dude!” Ewan whistled softly. “Looks like something from King Arthur. What in the world are the Hidden Lands?”

Hadyn, who actually loved the lore of King Arthur—and Ewan knew it—was already reaching for another tube. Ewan followed his lead. Within twenty seconds, all four tubes were opened, and four identical parchments lay spread on the ground in the dark, illuminated only by flashlights. Golden ink glimmered, subtly shifting hues. Each bore the exact same message.

“You have been chosen for a life of great purpose. Adventure awaits you in the Hidden Lands.”

Hadyn grabbed the four sheets, quickly rolled them up, and inserted each back into its thin metal sleeve. “We need to head home before Dad gets worried,” he said. “You take two and I’ll take two. Stick them under your shirt and act cool. I have no idea what these are. But for now, they’re our little secret.”

He puffed up for a moment, the older brother. Still out of sorts with the world.

“And none of your games, either, Ewan. I mean it. I’m not in the mood.”

If you read my blog, you know I’m a fan of natural products, and I’ve highlight Clorox Green Works Cleaners before. I’m still using them and still loving them. But move over, there’s a new Clorox cleaner in town! And I was lucky enough to be sent a free sample!

Green Works Dish Soap is wonderful! I usually buy dish soap from the dollar store. Most of it suds pretty well, but they have that lemony or plasticky-clean smell. This new product from Green Works has made me shuck my dollar store liquid habit!

It’s all natural and has a pleasant aroma! So much so, it’s like aromatherapy and puts me in a happy place while doing the dishes. Even though it’s my boys’ job (they switch off weekly,) I found myself letting them off the hook, and taking time to really scrub the pots and pans. The soap feel luxurious and wonderful on my skin, and did I mention I LOVE the smell. The ingredients say they use coconut extract, maybe that’s the key to the calming factor. Whatever it is, I’m sold!

I’m big on putting everything in the dishwasher, but have found myself washing more metal and plastic bowls by hand! That in itself should tell you how much I love this dish soap! And did I mention it’s ALL Natural!

And if my review isn’t enough to make you run out and buy it, here’s so more facts about the product!

“Not too long ago, no one cared very much where all of dish washing suds ended up. Of course, now we know that what we put in the trash and down the drain has a direct impact on the environment and, eventually, on our quality of life. Green Works has joined with the Sierra Club in support of their efforts to Sierra Club logo. Additionally, the EPA has recognized the dish soap for using environmentally preferred chemistry, with their logo also proudly displayed on the bottle. As it arrives nationwide this August, Green Works Dishwashing Liquid comes in five scents: Original, Water Lily, Tangerine, Free & Clear, and Simply Lemon.

As with the rest of the line, the dish soap retains Clorox’s well-known ability to cut through grease and baked-on food, while using all natural, plant-based ingredients like coconuts and lemon oil, making the soap sustainable and biodegradable.”

So what do you think? Sounds too good to be true? Just go out and try it for yourself!

I’ve always wanted to write a children’s book, but never tired. I heard it’s a tough business to break into, and those that do it, do it so well already. Maybe one day I’ll try my hand at one, but for now I’ll just enjoy reading them like the new books I received from Lisa Bergren and Dandi Mackall.

“Little Cub awakens one morning with some important questions on her mind: What is heaven like? How do we get there? Will we eat in heaven? Will we be angels?”

God Gave Us Heaven is a sweet story about a little bear who asks about heaven. The bear goes through typical questions children ask, and portrays heaven and death in a wonderful light. My children have asked some of these same questions, but you don’t have to wait for your kids to ask to share this delightful story with them.

When God Created Toes is a fun rhyming book about a little girl and her questions about God creating her body. The photos are fun and capture the heart of a little, energetic and precocious girl. I could so relate to the mom in the story!

God Love Me More than That is about a little boy’s searching for the answer to how much God loves him. Also told in rhyme, this story reminds me of Joey and all the questions he likes to ask! It captures the curiosity and energy of an inquisitive little boy while portraying in a fun and simple way how great and how wide the love of God is!

Check out my interview with John Morgan here!

MSNBC is taking a poll as to whether Americans believe the saying “In God We Trust” should stay or be removed from our currency.

How do you think America is voting? How would you vote?

http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/10103521/