Michael and Me

What on earth, you ask, do Michael W. Smith (internationally-known musician, composer, and singer) and I (an author known to my immediate family, mother, and grandmother) have in common? (Well, maybe you didn't actually say it, but humor me.) Plenty, I reply, plenty. And here's the proof:

Michael W. Smith is as kind and considerate in real life
as his songs are soul-inspiring and joyful when he performs them.
It's a joy to know a favorite entertainer is just
what we hope they are.

A picture!

Yes, that's me with Michael's arm on my shoulder. Even though I look like one of those life-sized cardboard cutouts, and I'm paler than most snow drifts, that's me standing next to the great (and incredibly handsome) Michael W. Smith at a meet-and-greet just before his concert on Sunday, May 10th. Since meeting him, I've been completely blown away by how much we have in common.

1.  Michael and I were both at the World Outreach Church in Murfreesboro, Tennessee, on the evening of Sunday, May 10, 2015! Can you believe the coincidence? Yes, he was there to do a concert with the talented and insanely beautiful Amy Grant, and yes, I was there for the concert, but still... both of us there at the same time? What are the chances? (Pretty darned good, since we bought the tickets a millisecond after they went on sale.)

Here I am looking nowhere near as beautiful as Amy Grant,
who is not only talented beyond belief, but sweet and funny
in real life. 

2.  Michael is married and his wife's name is...are you ready for this?... Deborah!(My name is Deborah!)

3.  Michael was born in October and I was born in November! (Just one month apart and maybe a year or two (okay, a few years) apart, but hey, it's still pretty weird.)

4.  Michael is a composer, musician, and wildly-popular singer. I'm a writer, took piano lessons for two years, and I... get this...sing along with Michael. I know, I know. Pretty wild, huh?

5.  He lives in Tennessee. I live in Tennessee. Just gets stranger and stranger.

6.  Michael graciously accepted a copy of the children's adventure book, Laramie on the Lam, for his grandchildren. I wrote that book. Of course, I took two copies with me to the concert (one for Michael, and one for Amy) for the purpose of giving one to each of them. Still... seeing my book in the hands of Michael W. Smith and Amy Grant was a thrill.

7.  And last, but certainly not least, Michael loves the Lord. I love the Lord. He composes, plays, and sings for the glory of our Father. I write, edit (and then write some more) for the glory of our Father.

You've probably figured out by now that I'm spoofing the things I have in common with Michael. Except for that last one. It was very apparent from the way he treated his fans at the meet-and-greet and his audience during the nearly 3-hour concert that his love for God is genuine. What a wonderful role model for younger generations and what a thrill for his older fans to know he's the real deal. We need more Michael W. Smiths and Amy Grants in our entertainment realm and in the world as a whole.

The love for God displayed in his music and during his concerts is also contagious. I dare anyone to sit through a concert of Michael W. Smith's (or Amy Grant's, for that matter) and not want to worship our Heavenly Father.

Thanks, Michael. Thanks, Amy. Thank You, God.

Until the next time...

A 3-Book Contract!

It's happened! I've signed a contract with OakTara Publishers for my novel, Misstep. And it's not just a one-book contract; no, it's for three! Yep, Misstep will be followed by Faux Pas, which will finally be followed by Misjudge. All three take place in Road's End, Virginia, and follow the adventures (or misadventures, depending on your viewpoint) of Hugh Foster, recently-retired Air Force chaplain, his wife, and the quirky senior citizen residents of Road's End. Hugh thought it was tough living in 13 houses on 11 bases on two continents for the past 27 years. That was a roll in a pit of marshmallows compared to what he's gotten himself into this time.

Since the first book is written, all that remains is--well, big bunches of stuff. Editing, more editing, followed by... you guessed it, even more editing. Once Misstep is ready for publication, I'll be turning my attention once more to completing Faux Pas, which is nearly finished, and we'll begin with the editing all over again. Last, but not least, Misjudge will go through the same process. The next few months will be busy ones; thank goodness, we've already made the move from Alaska to Tennessee!

Thank you to Terry Burns (my beloved agent) and Hartline Literary Agency, as well as to Ramona Tucker of OakTara Publishers. I won't let you down--or you either, my dears friends, family, and readers.

Until the next time...






Regal Round-Up

Talk about magnificent. This was taken in the parking lot of the VFW Hall in Eagle River, Alaska. Each winter while the rivers are frozen over and fish are hard to come by, a kind woman feeds wild eagles on Sunday mornings. She begins passing out pieces of fish at 10:30 a.m. and precisely at 10:25 a.m., the eagles begin arriving. Don't ask me how they know; I guess nature has a way of relaying important information like this when it needs to.

My son-in-law, Ron, and I visited a week ago yesterday. This lone eagle stood watch over the parking lot, and eventually, someone came out from the building and informed us that the eagle lady would not be coming that morning. Apparently, the river had thawed enough to allow the eagles to fend for themselves. My question for him was "How do the eagles know not to come?" He shrugged and grinned. "Beats me." When I asked him how many had arrived the week before, he said, "About a hundred." Can you imagine seeing a hundred of these magnificent creatures gathering from all directions, down the from the snow-covered mountains to a humble gravel parking lot on the edge of a small town-- swooping, snatching, gliding on the currents to accept the gift of food during the cold Alaskan winter?

Evidently, the memo hadn't reached this eagle and he stood on his tree branch for close to an hour while we snapped pictures and waited for the lady, her fish pieces, and the other eagles to arrive. When they didn't, we left and I imagine he did shortly thereafter.

But for a little while, I shared a moment in time with one of God's most regal creations, both of us hopeful; both of us waiting and watching. We have one more winter here in Alaska before we leave for parts unknown, and you can bet your bottom dollar (and all the fish you can eat) that I'll be there every single chance I get for a chance to witness the regal round-up.

Until the next time...

Living in the moment

I've spent the last few days marketing my new story, Laramie and the Law. Somewhere in there, it dawned on me that I'd better start thinking about working on the third installment. (The second will be published on April 1, 2011.) I've become caught up in the neverending game of the "done" and the "yet to be done."

Life is like that sometimes. We get so caught up in something in our past (or looking to the future) that we forget to live in the moment. This morning I woke up and noticed the glorious sunshine the Lord has seen fit to bless us with for the last several days. The snow-covered mountain peaks are etched against the startlingly blue skies, the snow covers the ground like a huge white blanket, and the icicles that melt during the day magically re-form overnight as the slow process of thawing out for another year progresses.

In a few weeks, this will be gone. Yes, I'll love the warmer temps, the green grass, and springtime flowers. But I shouldn't lose sight of the beauty that God is giving me this very moment. I have lots of "yesterday moments," and plenty of "tomorrow moments"--but I have only one "right this minute" moment. I need to savor each and every one of them.

Until the next time...