Today my post at Colonial Quills talks about a winter even MORE severe than the winter of 2014.
At least we don’t need to shovel out our upstairs windows to escape our homes. 😉
Click here to read.
General
Audio Version of “Fields of the Fatherless!”
I received wonderful news this week from my publisher: Fields of the Fatherless was going to become an audio book!
My publisher had contracted with an actress (Becca Ballenger) after she’d auditioned for the reading. I think her reading is perfect. 🙂
If you’d like to hear the first 15-minute preview, you can listen to it here:
When the whole book is available, I’ll be sure to announce it.
And thanks for listening.
A Tribute to Darin Tschopp, my Oxen Expert
I recently received an unexpected e-mail from my writer-friend, Marie. “Darin passed away.”
Darin? My oxen expert?
“But he was fairly young, wasn’t he?” I couldn’t wrap my mind around the reality. He was not that old but of course, death is not discerning of age when it comes to its victims.
“Darin hadn’t been feeling well and had some chest pain, which they think he mistook for indigestion because they found some acid reflux medicine,” Marie wrote.
Though I never knew Darin in person, he had become my go-to guy when I had a question about the lives and habits of the huge beasts of burden that were used in Colonial America. His cousin-in-law, Marie, had connected us on Facebook. She knew I wrote about Colonial America and she recommended his expertise for everything “oxen.”
And Darin never let me down. He never made any question that I had seem too trivial for him to take the time to answer. I so appreciated his help for writing a scene in “Fields of the Fatherless,” that I put his name in my acknowledgements. I did so proudly. Not everyone can claim an oxen-expert for their contacts. 🙂
Even in my brief Facebook exchanges with Darin, I sensed a warm and caring person—someone who loved the animals he cared for in his job at Colonial Williamsburg as well as a gentle spirit who cared about people.
That became even more evident when I saw the memorial tributes posted on his Facebook Page. Here are a few of the posts from friends and co-workers:
– He was such a gentleman
– Darin was one of “the good guys”
– A gentle giant with a warm, friendly smile
– Darin Tschopp will be missed tremendously. So saddened to hear the world has lost such a kind man.
– He loved God!! And he was a man of God!! He loved history and he loved sharing it with others. It was his life!! There is so much more I could say but the biggest thing would be to say that I will miss you, Darin Tschopp, But the most important thing would be to say is that I will see you in heaven because I know that you loved your Savior.
I still cannot fathom that Darin is gone. Whenever I have a question about oxen in my future books, I will remember him. And miss his kind manner. I am so grateful that I was able to send Darin a signed copy of my book before he passed into eternity. Had I put that off, I would have regretted it always.
We are never assured of tomorrow. But death is assured for all. Never put off doing good unto others for another day. Their tomorrow—or yours—might not exist on this earth. As another of Darin’s friends wrote, “Life is precious, dear friends. Don’t waste a moment.”
I never met you face-to-face on earth, brother Darin. But I look forward to meeting you one day in heaven. I’ll look for the kind keeper of the animals.
And I’ll end with one more message of love from a friend:
“Fair winds and following seas, brother. Until we meet again, may God hold you in the palm of His hand. You will be missed.”
Tea and Scones and Jesus
Bleary-eyed, I dragged my carry-on luggage down the freezing jet ramp toward the airport terminal.
I hadn’t slept one moment on the red-eye flight and could barely focus on my destination to a connecting flight that would take me home.
I need some caffeine.
The crowded walkways were filled with others who seemed far more energetic than myself.
They must have already had their coffee—or at least got some sleep last night.
Every coffee shop seemed packed with caffeine-cravers except for one. It seemed to have a temporary lull in the line. Hurrying as fast as my weary legs would drag me, I positioned myself in the short row of customers.
Since I was fighting a cold, I decided that tea would be a wise choice. Perfect with the fresh scones displayed in the window, I thought.
The four ladies behind the counter rushed to fill customer orders. They moved in dance-like synchronization, never colliding with their co-workers. But it was obvious they struggled to complete their busy tasks of grabbing muffins and making lattes.
One of the baristas seemed especially frazzled at that moment and my ears perked up when she voiced an audible plea. “Jesus. Help me, sweet Jesus.”
I felt a smile creep up my cheeks. “At least you’re asking for help from the One Who can help you.”
She paused for a moment with a delighted expression and inhaled her pleasure with a smile. Lifting her lovely brown hand high in the air in a “high-five” maneuver, I gently met her palm with my own. We exchanged smiles of sweet fellowship, connecting in a way that believers in Jesus Christ do. In the midst of the busy throng, Jesus had connected our spirits with His.
We both grinned through the business transaction, grateful in the knowledge that wherever we go, He is there. And so are His believers.
It was a moment of joy and encouragement that overshadowed the weariness and the cares of this world—the connection of fellow Christians.
It was a gift to carry in my heart and refresh my soul.
“All the believers were one in heart and mind.” (Acts 4:32 NIV)
“Encourage one another and build each other up.” (1Thessalonians 5:11 NIV)
Wounded Cancer Warrior
In the war against cancer, there are many engagements both frightening and painful. But when those you hope to be on your side attack you, the “friendly fire” can be the most devastating of all.
Such is the case with Lisa Bonchek Adams, a woman in New York suffering from Stage 4 cancer who has been using social media to discuss her personal fight against the disease. While Ms. Adams has written that she does not like the use of war-related phrases in describing cancer treatments, I have personally found the analogy to be fitting.
As anyone who has suffered from or knows someone who has cancer, the battle is fraught with multiple doctor visits, diagnostic scans, lab work, and, often, painful treatments that poison one’s body in an attempt to poison the cancer cells. Many of the treatments are improving, thanks to research. But most still leave a patient exhausted and quite ill.
Ms. Adams’s tweets are now being attacked in the mainstream media by none other than former Executive Editor of the New York Times and current columnist, Bill Keller. Mr. Keller became aware of this cancer patient via his wife, Emma Keller, who writes for The Guardian in the UK. Now, Emma Keller is a cancer survivor herself. Her column about this cancer patient in the U.S. was pulled down after it was determined that Emma Keller had interviewed Ms. Adams by e-mail, without informing her that the quotes might be used in a public forum. Any journalist should know better.
But now Bill Keller has joined in the discussion, essentially telling the public that enough already, why doesn’t this Stage 4 cancer victim just stop all these treatments she is undergoing at Memorial Sloan-Kettering Cancer Center? Why doesn’t she just give up, making some reference to the cost of extending her life? He seemed surprised in his editorial piece that Ms. Adams’ doctors would not reveal some of the expenses incurred by the treatments. Excuse me? Patient privacy?
After all, Mr. Keller argues in his column—and now we get to the heart of his argument—his father-in-law bravely gave up the fight and died with dignity.
So when it comes to cancer treatment, one size fits all? And when it comes to those who are deciding to fight further, even to the point of taking experimental treatments to aid in the cause of research to help others, that is no less dignified?
Mr. Keller did not seem to take into account circumstances. His father-in-law was 79 when he passed away. Does he realize that Ms. Adams is a much-younger mom with three children, one of whom was born with congenital abnormalities to his heart, spine, and hands? (You can read her blog at http://lisabadams.com/ )
Even worse, Mr. Keller implies that doctors in the U.S. are only beginning to understand that a person should be kept pain-free as they pass through the portal to eternity. Where have you been, Mr. Keller, in your knowledge of cancer fighting? My own daughter, who died of cancer ten years ago, stopped the treatments that her body could not tolerate anymore and was kept pain free until the end.
Mr. Keller was informed by a cancer research center that only 3% of adult cancer patients who are eligible for clinical trials accept this daunting mission. He seemed surprised. Was he pleased?
One would think so by this excerpt:
“In October 2012, I wrote about my father-in-law’s death from cancer in a British hospital. There, more routinely than in the United States, patients are offered the option of being unplugged from everything except pain killers and allowed to slip peacefully from life. His death seemed to me a humane and honorable alternative to the frantic medical trench warfare that often makes an expensive misery of death in America.
Among doctors here, there is a growing appreciation of palliative care that favors the quality of the remaining life rather than endless ‘heroic measures’ that may or may not prolong life but assure the final days are clamorous, tense and painful. (And they often leave survivors bankrupt) What Britain and other countries know, and my country is learning, is that every cancer need not be Verdun, a war of attrition waged regardless of the cost or the casualties. It seemed to me, and still does, that there is something enviable about going gently. One intriguing lung cancer study even suggests that patients given early palliative care instead of the most aggressive chemotherapy not only have a better quality of life, they actually live a bit longer.”
I have to wonder if Emma Keller (Bill Keller’s wife) recovered from breast cancer as the result of someone else risking a new drug that later saved Emma? I am only speculating, of course.
Let me share a story. On a recent flight, I sat next to a chiropractor whose mother had taken the trial drug Herceptin when she had advanced breast cancer some twenty years ago. Now his mother is alive and well, thanks to that experimental drug that is now regularly given to breast cancer patients. I know that chiropractor’s family was grateful that she had continued the fight.
These are not easy decisions for any cancer patient. The unknown stares at you as you contemplate your next step. Do I continue taking these new drugs? Or do I stop?
One of my friends has a son with a brain tumor. Several years later, after trying one new chemotherapy after another, the tumor that threatened to shorten his young adult life long ago, has been kept at bay long enough to give him many treasured moments with his family.
My daughter, who has been deceased these ten years, once wrote in her diary about the importance of “moments,” long before she knew her life would end at the age of 24:
“There is beauty in each moment. There is the hand of God in each one. It may not always be obvious, but to a trained eye, it is visible. Look to the One Who gave me my moments and you, your moments, and everyone one of them will become as valuable as pure gold. After all, it will only be a matter of moments before this life is through and others are experiencing their moments. Then, I won’t have to worry about moments. It will be one long, glorious, eternal moment spent in the love of God.”
Apparently, Mr. Keller likes to play God in deciding the numbers of moments on earth that are important.
If you’d like to follow Lisa Bonchek Adams,’ tweets here is her Twitter handle:
@AdamsLisa
You can read the column by Bill Keller here.
Detour on the Journey
Occasionally, life takes us on detours. That is where my writing path has currently taken me: from historical fiction to a non-fiction memoir.
Since I am trusting the Lord with each step on this very important side road, I am relying heavily on His strength to carry the burden. So far, His yoke has been easy, albeit, covered with tears.
My book writing began seven years ago when I began researching for my first historical fiction (“The Road to Deer Run”). Since then, I’ve published three more in the same genre, each set in the era of the American Revolution.
But nearly three years ago, I was at a Christian Writers Conference, worshipping God during the praise time, when a very real impression of God’s direction in my life took root in my heart and mind: the Lord was telling me to write a memoir of my daughter Bethany’s battle with a brain tumor. She passed away ten years ago.
Prior to this moment, I had determined in my steel heart that I would NEVER write about that painful journey. But there I was, with tears rolling down my cheeks, the Lord reassuring me in my spirit that He would give me the strength. And He has.
So now I labor to relive that worst trial in my life. And I’m praying that her story will bless others to help them glimpse a speck of light on the darkest of days.
I’m also praying that my book will help other families who are in similar circumstances, empowering them to be their loved one’s advocate. Helping family members and friends to know where they can say “no” and perhaps—even when they are unsure of their steps—to know they can say “yes” as the Lord guides them on unfamiliar terrain.
So on this temporary detour—perhaps the most important in my calling as a writer—I pray that my daughter’s memory will be honored and that her story will touch many for His glory.
I covet your prayers as I work on “Bethany’s Calendar.” And I thank you.
(Photo of sun peeking through the clouds courtesy of Thomas Deitner)