A Christmas Excerpt from SEA OF HOPE

     SEA OF HOPE was my first published book and a 2002 EPIC Award Winner for Best Inspirational Novel. It is set in a small New Jersey fishing community. The heroine's father passed away and his fishing trawler, the Merrichase, has been willed to a stranger. The heroine's uncle is the pastor of the local church in that community where she grew up. Below is her uncle's Christmas homily.

     Then Uncle Walter reminded his congregation of the joy everyone should have in their hearts at the celebration of the birth of their Savior. “Christmas is not about who gets the biggest and best toys,” he whispered close into the microphone and then paused again. “It’s about eternal life, God’s great gift to us all,” his voice grew in intensity. “And it is about forgiveness. You are saved by the grace of God who sent His Son to wash away your sins with His blood.” 
     Uncle Walter’s words thundered through the speakers and filled the church. For a moment, her uncle stopped speaking. Total silence reigned in the nave. Then, slowly, he drew in a great breath, an act made more dramatic by the amplification. “Thank Him,” Uncle Walter spoke softly. “Thank Him with all your heart.” 

     Doria dared to glance up in time to see him turn and walk heavily back to his chair to sit. A hush gathered over the people as Uncle Walter’s words sank into their usually cluttered minds. With bowed heads they mulled over their pastor’s message. The tightness grew in Doria’s throat. Her uncle’s words had touched everyone, even her. How could she have stayed away from church for so long? How could she have ignored the truth? She needed the Lord in her life. He was her only hope. Especially now.

     I've heard many, many Christmas homilies over the years and while the one in Sea Of Hope is brief, I hoped to convey in it the conversion of the heroine's heart. 

     Christmas is over in the minds of many people. The gifts have been opened, the cookies eaten, and the family visits are completed. But Christ can always be in our hearts all year long. The true gift of Christmas is His love for us. 

🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄

     

Christmas Magic

"Christmas Magic" was a winner in the 1992 holiday story contest sponsored by the Asbury Park Press. There are no cellphones in this story because at the time I wrote it few people owned cellphones. The story is actually based on an a real incident--but that happened during the summertime, not at Christmas. Still, if the little white-haired woman wasn't Mrs. Claus, she was certainly an angel in disguise. 💕💕


Beverly kneaded the satiny dough. With its pungent bits of candied citrus, this bread was destined to grace some elderly person's table for tomorrow's Christmas dinner.

Lucy, Beverly's 7-year-old, patted her own little mound of dough. "Why couldn't we go to a party like Daddy and Mark?"

"Daddy's office always has a party every Christmas Eve and Mark wanted to get together with his friends. They'll be home all day tomorrow." Beverly nestled each loaf tenderly inside the bread pans. "And I promised to make this bread."

A pout formed on Lucy's lips as she pummeled her dough. "I want to go someplace! This is boring!"
Beverly frowned as the phone rang. But Lucy scrambled off into the family room. She came back several minutes later smiling proudly.

"Mrs. Roper is sick. I told her it would be easy for us to carry a hundred loaves of bread with our minivan."

Beverly groaned. It would take 45 minutes to drive to the distribution center. One way. She glanced around. The tree, centered in the front window, twinkled merrily. All the presents had been wrapped and placed under the tree.

"Next time, ask me first." Beverly sighed.

Lucy's mood did not improve despite the heavenly aroma of 100 loaves of fresh baked bread in the car. She didn't even want to listen to her favorite tape of Christmas carols.

"Robert told everyone in the class yesterday that there is no Santa Claus."

A pang squeezed Beverly's heart as she drove. The nerve of that rotten Robert.

"Miss Jensen took Robert out of the room and talked to him. She was very angry."

"Did he apologize after that?"

"Oh sure. But then when we went outside on the playground he told us we were all a bunch of babies."

Beverly thought of the cookies and milk beside the fireplace. Did they have to lose the magic?

"What did you say to that?" Beverly's throat felt tight.

"I told him to stop." Lucy tilted up her chin. "I told him he should be ashamed of himself. He made Sara and Jessica cry. And anyway, he believes in Dracula."

But Beverly was afraid to ask Lucy if she still believed in Santa. So she didn't.

The car seemed to have a black cloud in it on the way home. Even the comforting smell of bread hadn't lingered on when all those loaves left. The country road had few streetlights, too. When the car's engine suddenly stopped, Beverly had a moment of panic before she saw a liquor store just ahead.

The minivan had just enough power to coast into the parking lot.

Beverly tried starting it again but it refused to kick over.

"Hey, lady. Sounds like you forgot to put gas in it." One of the liquor store's customers commented as Beverly got out of the car. Another fellow snickered in agreement.

"I have a half a tank of gas." Beverly informed them through her clenched teeth. She would let her husband know that male chauvinism was alive and well.

Beverly called home and left a message on the machine. She left a message on her husband's answering machine at work. She left another message on her neighbor's answering machine.
She decided to try starting up the car again. Maybe she had flooded it.

"I'm cold," Lucy whined.

"At least it isn't snowing--yet." Beverly glanced up at the black sky.

A battered Toyota pulled up beside them and a white-haired woman got out.

"Having trouble?" she inquired as she tapped on the glass.

Beverly rolled down her window. The woman had to be less than 5 feet tall.

"It just died in the middle of the road and it won't start up again. And I have plenty of gas in the tank."

"Try starting it up again." The woman ducked under the hood as Beverly ground on the starter again.

"Keep going!" The woman called out.

Maybe Beverly would ruin the starter or the battery or some other vital organ, but right now she wanted to get home. So she turned the key and held her breath.

The engine caught.

Beverly's thanks seemed so inadequate.

The white-haired woman wiped her hands on an old cloth hanky. "Carburetor. Better get it checked."

For a long time as Beverly and Lucy continued homeward, they both listened attentively to the sound of the engine.

Finally Lucy said, "That was Mrs. Santa Claus."

Beverly smiled. The magic was still there. "I think you're right."

The Dollhouse

The year I turned eight, I wanted a dollhouse for Christmas. In those days, dollhouses were made of painted pieces of sheet metal with hard plastic furniture. Still, the houses were grand two story affairs, not at all like the converted bungalow where I lived. 

On Christmas Eve, I went to bed hoping Santa wouldn't forget my dearest wish. Sometime during the night, I awoke to hear my father fussing as my mother assisted him in putting something together. I lay very quiet in my bed and realized my parents were following directions to put a dollhouse together. Until then, I assumed Santa Claus brought everything fully assembled. 

As I continued to listen to Mom and Dad hastily placing everything  under the tree, I came to the conclusion that there was no Santa Claus. I wasn't sad or terribly disappointed. It all seemed very logical, but the special joyous magic of Christmas vanished. In it's place was the knowledge that Mom and Dad--despite all their hardships--fashioned a miracle for their children, created out of love.

I grew up a lot that Christmas and though I didn't believe in Santa Claus anymore--I still believed in miracles--but most of all in the power of love.  

May the miracle of love surround you this Christmas and bring you a bright New Year.

Pre-Order Your Cowboy!

THE COWBOY'S MIRACLE is available for pre-order now! It will be released on November 18, 2016. Wouldn't you like a cowboy for Christmas? Find him at Amazon, Smashwords, and Kobo.

A Real Tree

That's me and my brother, circa 1954 (I think). We're showing off our Christmas tree. It's real. It's very eclectic--just the sort of tree I like with a little of this and a little of that. I remember my mother was very particular about the icicles. We were to drape them, one at a time, on the tree. They were undoubtedly lead icicles at that point in time.

What do you put on your Christmas tree? Do you have garlands, or icicles, or old-fashioned ornaments?

The Craziest Time of the Year

Here's a photo of hubby and I at a party. The red bow is not in my hair. It is on the top of a Christmas tree behind me. But yes, it makes me look silly. :^)

This is the craziest season. I know there are those who agree with me. There is simply too much to do: attend numerous parties, decide what gifts to purchase, buy those gifts, wrap them, put up the Christmas tree, put ornaments on the tree, put gifts under the tree, string lights outside, send out Christmas cards, clean the house, bake calorie-laden treats, and feed visiting relatives.

In our case, there’s also several extra entertainment gigs. Everyone wants Christmas music this time of the year and hubby is thrilled to provide it. Very often, I’m leading everyone in song with those fa la la la la’s.

So far this season, I haven’t lost my voice.

However, writing time has been nearly impossible to find though I still need to squeeze it in. Crescent Moon Press is going to reissue The Company You Keep, which means I have to fill out the cover art questionnaire. It includes a blurb and a short summary of the book.

Naturally, I don’t want the same blurb previously used. So I agonized for days over a new blurb and finally got it down--well aware that the editor may change it.

I am currently working on the short summary, which reminds me of all the book reports I had to do when I was young. I’ve always loved reading books and I love writing books, but books reports are not fun for me--even if it’s my own book--maybe particularly because it is my own book. I know I have to leave out a lot and just hit the high points. Sigh.

But I am delighted that the book will be reissued! I had such a great time writing it. :^)