What is God's favor?

2019 - Here I am, three months into the year and what have I accomplished? What did I accomplish in 2018? As a writer, the questions reflect my writing accomplishments.

The answer - not much, followed by a heavy sigh. Certainly, not much with this blog. Every year, some pick a "Word" for the year. Sometimes I do, sometimes not. Last year, I did. Favor. Favor with my writing. In retrospect, it seems a selfish desire. So many problems in our world...

Proclaiming my "word" did little to motivate me. If one word can sum up my writing mindset last year, it was lethargy. My mind was abuzz all the time with my characters and storylines and plots, but getting it in writing was a struggle. This year hasn't been much better. Health issues, family and financial struggles...I can blame any number of things. But I know the truth. That truth is, we find a way to do what we truly and passionately want to do.

Ironically, or not so ironically, Pastor Todd has preached a series on God's favor recently. Not surprisingly, God's view of favor is different than mine. Joseph in the Old Testament had favor that elevated him to become the second most powerful man in Egypt. But was it favor when his brothers' hatred and jealousy led them to throw him in a pit and then sell him into slavery? Was it favor to have Potiphar's wife falsely accuse him? Was it favor to be thrown in prison?

For Joseph to attain his position of power and influence, all those things had to happen. And instead of Joseph using his power to inflict revenge on the brothers who betrayed him, he blessed them. If you aren't familiar with the story, it's a beautiful testament of mercy, forgiveness, and God's favor in the midst of tragic circumstances.

So, what is my "word" this year? Favor. FAVOR! But now I view it with the understanding that God's favor might not look like what I think it should.

Romans 8:28 New International (NIV) And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose.

When Men of God Fail

Good men and women fail. Even men and women of God, ministers of the gospel of Christ. We hear of it through the news, or from those who know or have heard about it. What happens when it’s someone you know? Has it ever happened to someone you personally know?

It hurts.

I recently attended a memorial service for someone I had worked under in ministry who had fallen. Because of my position at the time, I was involved in the process of confrontation and accountability. It was the second time I had been involved in such a process – a few years apart. It left me wounded and bleeding. These men had impacted my life. They had been a powerhouse for Christ. I considered it a privilege and blessing to work in ministry under their leadership.

They were good to me. As a boss.  As a friend.  As a mentor. I loved and admired them. I realize that ministers face the same struggles and temptations as anyone else. Perhaps more so because Satan has more to gain if men and women of God fall. Even non-believers take notice.

One man lost his family and ministry after he fell. The other lost his ministry.

Then it happened again. To a pastor we knew. Again, my husband and I were devastated. A trust had been broken this time. A wife was betrayed and abandoned, friends and family were wounded.

I could titillate you with details – and I have details – but I won’t. I respect the memory of the good these men did while in ministry.  Years later, when my thoughts go to any of these men, my heart floods with sadness.

Do I, or you, judge these men on their failure? Or on the totality of their ministry? Human nature is such that if you do ten wonderful, sacrificial things for someone and then do one horrid thing to them, it will likely be with that one horrid thing that dominates their memory of you. Sadly, in regards to these three men, their ministry legacy will reflect their failure more than their successes.

If you’re familiar with David in the Old Testament of the Bible, David had grievous sin and failure in his life. Adultery and murder to cover his crime were a few things in David’s life.  Yet, in 1 Samuel 13:14 and Acts 13:22, David is referred to as a man after God’s own heart.  How can that be?

The biblical record does not attempt to sugar-coat David’s blunders. It honestly shows his triumphs and his tragedies. Throughout, David had a soul that could be touched with truth. He was unafraid to admit his transgressions. He broke his own heart by his lapses of spirituality. 

David’s life, nor the lives of the three I mentioned, should be judged exclusively by their valleys of failure, but by the whole landscape of their ministry. They had/have families, friends, and followers who loved them. People were hurt, and some destroyed, by their failure. The greatest destruction, however, is what the repercussions of their actions did to them.

None of us know for sure what we are capable of doing if presented with certain circumstances. Remember that before you point a finger at others. 

And so, I write of these things in my books....men and women of God who fall or fail. But, always with redemption and restoration in the end. That is the God we serve -- a God full of mercy, grace, compassion, and kindness.  Alas, I have not seen restoration in the men I personally have known. It is no fault of God's, but of their own.

Wealth: The Blessing and The Curse

Whenever my husband and I hear someone say, "It's not about the money," we always look at each other and say, "It's always about the money."

Writing. Maybe, just maybe, I thought I would actually make money from writing. Okay, truth time. I kind of imagined I might actually make lots of money from writing. Isn't that a common dream? To get rich from your efforts?

Now, I simply wish my writing income would be greater than my expense. Okay, more truth. I don't do marketing. I mean, I really stink at it. So, what does that mean? In today's writing world, to make money you must market. *sigh* Does that mean I have no one to blame but myself?

Then I ask myself how would I handle wealth. Could I handle wealth? Fame? Would it change me? What kind of "rich" person would I be? Nice? Generous? Stingy? Prideful? Aloof? Do any of us truly know our hearts and how we would behave in certain circumstances?  Maybe, but maybe not.

We have dear friends of almost 30 years who own several fast food chains. By several, it might be close to 20. Good people who love Jesus and others. Great example of Christianity. They are generous, but not foolish, with their money. Encouragers. Prayer warriors. Money has helped them live a comfortable life, but having money has cost dearly.

Their sons have been/are business partners. The oldest, a family man, went through a divorce and married again. Per his request, he was bought out of the family business. Then he sued his parents for more. And won. Big, big money. Months later the current wife shot him in the head while he sat on a sofa, waited 23 minutes and called police. All caught on surveillance cameras. He died and the money the wife inherited paid for lawyers. She's in prison. This is taken from a news report, I x'd the wife's name out:
XXXXX entered the living room of her central Phoenix home armed with a handgun. Her husband was sitting on the couch, talking on the phone. She raised the gun, drew a bead and fired. She sat down on the couch as he lay dying and lit a cigarette. Finally, 23 minutes later, XXXXX called 911 and reported the shooting.

And now another business partner son is going through a divorce and his wife is suing his parents, our friends, for money. The heartache and trauma has cost these dear friends immensely. Other family members have taken advantage of them because they have money. Yet -- and this is important -- they are still loving, a great source of encouragement to others, and generous. Never blaming God. Their steadfast kindness has been a blessing to me, my husband, and family. Many times. And I don't mean with money. In fact, they have been gracious to us the past couple of weeks.

I weep for these good people. Would I, if I had wealth, behave as admirably in the face of adversity as our friends have? They have a beautiful home and lovely possessions. They can take a trip whenever they want. These are blessings and benefits of money.

Money can be a blessing. Sometimes it is a cursed thing to have. If I wrote of the above in a novel as a work of fiction, I'm sure some might scratch their heads and say so much tragedy could not happen to one couple who are such a good people.

It happened. The stress and grief have shown the true character of these dear friends. When I, or you, suffer from tragedy, what comes out of us?

We Are Not The Devil

In keeping with my theme to write blog posts this year about life experiences that influence my writing, I want to share an adventure from my church heritage.

I come from a long line of Pentecostal believers. Although many will point out the errors and foolery involved in this type of religious experience (as it is with most religions), the good definitely outweighs the bad. At least for me. I would not change my Pentecostal heritage for anything. There are certainly things about it I miss. I thank God for my Pentecostal experiences, but I'll save that for another post.

I gave my heart to Jesus at Bethel Pentecostal Church of God when I was 14. The years I spent in the youth group there are some of my fondest memories. Over 50 years later, and I'm still friends with several from those days -- friends as in we see each other on occasion.

Most of the youth attended every event/service the church had. Besides regular service on Sunday and Wednesday, we had Friday night prayer meeting. One particular Friday, the youth decided to abandon the adults praying around the altar and go into the youth room off the sanctuary.

I was best friends with the pastor's daughter, Carolyn, at the time (typical teens, we all changed best friends frequently). When Carolyn and I got up to join the teens in the youth room, her mother motioned to us to stay where we were. "Everyone should be praying in here," she admonished us.

What teenager wants to be with adults instead of their peers? Especially since it sounded like the teens were praying heaven down. Or possibly fighting the devil. Loud and aggresive prayers could mean either. Carolyn and I felt left out and slightly miffed. "We're going to the bathroom," she whispered to her mother.

The church building had been added on through the years. The women's restroom was off the back sanctuary and had an old open room adjacent to it. The youth room, where the teens were praying, had once faced outside. It had a window facing the door to the restroom. The window had been painted black at one time for privacy, but that paint had flaked in spots.

Carolyn and I peered through the flaked window paint to see what the youth were up to. It sounded like all heaven was coming down. Or hell. Unbeknown to us, the youth felt like the devil's presence  was in the room and they were in the middle of marching around the room and rebuking the devil and his demons.

When they saw eyes peering at them through clear patches in the window, they all screamed and went tearing out of the room into the sanctuary, dropping to their knees by the adults. Hallelujah! Carolyn and I returned to the altar wondering what happened. So we whispered, asking the teens, "What happened in there?"

"We were taking authority over the devil and his demons, and there they were staring at us through the window. Scary eyes and shadowy light behind their heads."

Hm. To this day, I don't remember if we told the youth it wasn't the devil, it was us. I do remember even the adults caught the fire of prayer passion from the teens that night. It was a lively meeting, for sure, regardless of the fact the devil was not watching the youth through the window.

I can't prove it, but I think God chuckled.

God, I thank you for my Pentecostal background. I thank you for pastors Chester and Velma Hamby who helped mold my early walk with Christ. I thank you for the wonderful friends I made in that youth group -- David, Ben, Carolyn, Rachel, Sande, Sally, Barbara L, Barbara D, Willie, Brinda, Tommy, Carol, Josie, Nancy, Gerald, and any I forgot to mention. 

Drugs and Alcohol: The Insidious Murderers

* Disclaimer: names are changed for anonymity.*
I worked for almost 20 years at a faith-based residential drug and alcohol rehab. Some entered the program with other addictions, but the majority came in for drugs and alcohol.

I witnessed many being set free from their addictions. Redeemed, restored, and reconciled through the power of God's love. It's a beautiful thing to behold. But, there were tragedies -- those who went back to their old lifestyle. Some died as a result.

I usually incorporate the destruction of substance abuse in my books. Why? Because I've seen the results first hand and it'a not a pretty picture. While some can do the occasional drugs or alcohol, many only need one time to open the pathway to addiction.

Drugs and alcohol kill. I have a son who is an alcoholic. He can't have just one drink and then stop. He is a mean, belligerent, obnoxious drunk. I hate who he becomes while on alcohol. If that was the only reason for me to hate alcohol usage, it would be enough.

During my years working at the rehab, I encountered many whose lives ended because of their addiction. This is not to minimize the miraculous events that took place in those who successfully completed rehab.

There was *Mike. He completed the program and stayed as a worker. He wasn't bad looking, although his hygiene could've used a bit sprucing up. He lacked graceful social skills which played into his interaction with those of the opposite sex. All he wanted was to fall in love, be loved in return, and get married. But his come-on to women usually repelled any prospects. This went on for years until I heard he died from a drug overdose.

Another was *Warren. He completed an affiliate rehab back east and came to Phoenix to work in ours. He always had sad eyes. I pegged him as a lonely soul. After months of working at our facility, Warren was AWOL. Most workers live on the property and Warren had left and not returned. Several staff searched and found him across town in a cheap motel, having spent his time with drugs and prostitutes. They brought him back as a resident in the program, not as a staff member. Grace, mercy, and forgiveness were extended to Warren, but he never lost the look of shame and hopelessness. Within days, he left again and was found dead in a nearby motel with a heroin needle still stuck in his arm.

Drugs kill. Alcohol kills. The euphoric high or sense of well-being you initially get from drugs and alcohol will soon morph into a cruel taskmaster, sucking energy and life from you.

In my almost 20 years of working at the rehab, two individuals who came into the program committed suicide by hanging. One came in on a Friday and hung himself with a belt from the top bunk bed on Saturday. Another had completed the program a couple years prior but had fallen and used drugs a few times. He was a nice guy, a husband, and father involved in church. Despair over his inability to stay clean drove him to end his life.

I could relate more stories, but I think you understand why I base parts of my books -- meaning the characters in my books -- on tough issues. I have witnessed the destruction caused by substance abuse. I wept over each death. My heart broke.

I have also witnessed the power of God's love to set people free. But you can't force anyone to choose life. If you have a loved one or know someone with an addiction problem, encourage them to get help. One of the best resources available is Teen Challenge (not just for teens), a faith-based program.

Lesson Learned From Vanity Press

I made the huge mistake of publishing my first book through a vanity press -- meaning I paid (not cheaply) to have my book published. Royalties are terrible for my book Like A Cedar In Lebanon, another way vanity presses take advantage of the unsuspecting writer. 2012. My baby. My blood, sweats, and tears went into this book. It is a moving, touching story. But, in terms of the craft of writing, I was nowhere near ready for publication. I was ripe for the picking for a vanity press.

I love the story Like A Cedar In Lebanon. Someday I intend to clean it up and re-release it myself. The publisher overpriced the book. Way over-priced. Who would buy an overpriced book from an unknown author except family and friends?  I got great reviews from family and friends, but I got a few great reviews from strangers. Those reviews spoke life to my writer's heart.

Books quit selling a while ago, so imagine my surprise to get a check for almost $5 a few days ago. Wow! That represents the sales of several books because my royalty percentage is so low. Very low.

Curiosity piqued, I check out Amazon to see if there are any new reviews. Nope, nada. Then I checked eBay. Don't ask me why. Okay, you can ask me. I checked eBay because my book has been listed on there. Last night someone on eBay was selling this book for $708.41. That seller is not on there today. Did he sell it for that? I doubt it. But six others are selling it for $20-$50.  *sigh*

I indie published my subsequent books In An Eveningtide, Of Splendor and Ashes (sequel to In An Eveningtide), and The Girl Under The Porch. In An Eveningtide has several listings on eBay.

The president of one of the local writer groups I belong to asked me recently if I have submitted any of my books, meaning to an agent or publisher. I replied no, and she asked why. I could've answered because I like indie publishing, but the truth is I lack the confidence. Plus, I want to write about real life issues that Christians face and frequently fail at. I don't want someone tell me I need to soften it or eliminate it altogether. I simply can't write sweet stories. Actually, I can, and might sometime in the future, but right now I don't want to.

If you're asking yourself what's the point of this blog, it's to warn you to avoid vanity presses at all cost. Run from anyone who asks you to put up hundreds of dollars to publish your book/s. Then there were all the phone calls from said vanity press asking me for more money to promote my book, to have my book featured in a newsletter or magazine...and on and on. I no longer accept their phone calls.

On another note, the Kindle version of Like A Cedar In Lebanon is only $1.99. It's the only pricing I had any say in. I make a few pennies on the Kindle version. So, please check out my book -- with all its mistakes. It is a good story.

https://www.amazon.com/Like-Cedar-Lebanon-Leola-Ogle-ebook/dp/B00A5LL7HY/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1521510703&sr=8-1&keywords=like+a+cedar+in+lebanon

The Surprises of Ancestry/Lineage Tracing Through DNA

Scanning my emails two nights ago, I see from Ancestry: New message from-----. The sender (she) said DNA shows that we’re 2^nd cousins, so we must have the same great-grandparents. She says her mother was adopted and would love to meet her birth father. She gives the name of a cousin of mine, one I’m not close with. She says they only have a name, and she believes he is her grandfather.

Gulp! I send her a reply simply saying, “Hi, cousin. Nice to meet you.”

Obviously, we’re related because DNA doesn’t lie, right? But, is my cousin her grandfather? Was this my vault to open? This cousin is a friend on Facebook – in fact, my maternal side of the family has a closed group Facebook page for family members only. We post old pictures, ancestral heritage data, current family events, and such. We had been posting yesterday about an uncle who had a brief first marriage most of us knew nothing about.

I had an “aha” idea. I sent this cousin, who had started the Facebook thread about the uncle, a private message, copying the message from “she” on Ancestry. Yesterday messages flew back and forth between me and my cousin, and me and “she.” By the evening, I was also getting messages from “she’s” mother, who, if the claim is true, would be my cousin’s daughter.

By bedtime me, she, and she’s mother had become Facebook friends. (You get the point – I’m not giving out names). I felt a kinship with the two of them. I was ready to claim them as relatives even if they didn’t come from the loins of my cousin. I didn’t doubt they came from the loins of some family member, but who?

By this morning I find out my cousin has laid claim to being the father and grandfather. My cousin is in his 70’s, so kudos to him for doing the right thing. He’s a nice guy anyway, so it made me happy.

This blog post poses a question. How often will this happen? Especially in an era when it’s easy to find out our ancestry. Spit into a tube, and voila! Another family member – he’s in his 80’s – did his DNA through Ancestry and had a similar experience. Someone contacted him because the database showed a connection. After research, he discovered a sister, who left home for a while as a teenager, had a baby and gave it up for adoption. It was hush-hush, because that’s what they did back then. The secret was no longer a secret, thanks to Ancestry.

I am sure this has happened more than a few times. If you haven’t invested in finding your ethnic background through one of several offering such services, be prepared. It may happen to you. 
And, of course, this is loaded with material for a book.

Choose To Forgive

My plan had been to write a blog post every week for 2018. Eight weeks into 2018 and I’m just now starting. What can I say? Life has a way of waylaying our plans.

Because I write Christian fiction based on actual life experiences and events – mine or others I know – my blog posts for the next 44 weeks will be about those things that have influenced my writing.

Forgiveness. Easy to say but not so easy to do. But, oh, the freedom in forgiveness. In December 2016, my dear friend and former pastor’s wife, Betty, went home to Jesus after a long struggle with Parkinson’s. The last week of her life, I went to the care facility every day to spend time with her and her family and friends who visited.

A young man our family had a history with showed up one evening. He hung back, talking with Betty’s son. “He’s afraid you will be upset he’s here,” someone said to me.

I was taken aback. It never occurred to me to be upset. Apparently, for years he had carried the weight of the wrong he had done against me, one of my daughters, and my family. The truth was that I had forgiven him years ago. So, I hugged him, conversed with him about his health – he had had a recent heart transplant – and I left later with a feeling of joy mixed with sadness. He had carried an unnecessary burden for so many years.

Needing a new heart, then having heart transplant surgery, is sure to cause a person to ponder his or her life. I’m sure this young man – I say young, he’s nearing 50 – thought about his mistakes and people he may have hurt.

We first knew him when he was a freshman in college. He encouraged a romance with my 12-year-old daughter that eventually led to her running away with him when she was 17. This story has many facets, details I won’t go into, things that shredded my heart during a time I was dealing with my divorce after 22 years of marriage.

  

I forgave. The young man – a talented musician – has been happily married for many years with a beautiful wife and three children. My daughter has been happily married for years – a pastor’s wife with three children.

He was there at Betty’s memorial service, on stage playing his trumpet with Betty’s son and others, honoring Betty with some of her favorite worship songs and hymns.

Considering eternity, what does it matter? With God’s help, I chose to forgive. If there’s someone you need to forgive, determine to do so. This wasn’t the first and only time I had to forgive a deep hurt. I’m not saying it’s easy, but it’s so worth it.

Remembering Betty Owens

     Church. Some love it, some hate it, and some are indifferent.

     In 1974 I was a 26 year old mother of five, moving to a new neighborhood. I was broken, flawed, and so shy, I hardly spoke. I hadn’t always been so broken.

     I had been attending Bethel Pentecostal Church of God since I was 14, but that year I decided to attend Victory Assembly of God, a small church closer to home in my new neighborhood. Attending Bethel and Victory were decisions that would be pivotal in my life. At Bethel, I surrendered my life to Jesus Christ for the first time. At Victory, the course of my life was set.

     Betty Owens was the pastor’s wife at Victory. She would become my friend, mentor, and family. Looking back, Betty was flawed and broken too, but she hid it well, having overcome much because of her faith. She took me under her wing, encouraging me to get involved and develop in ministry within the church.

     The church grew and so did I. Betty believed in me and pushed me out of my comfort zone. Whenever I told her I couldn’t do something, she’d say, “Of course you can. I’ll show you and help you.”

     Over my thirty plus years in that church, many things happened. In 1974 my oldest child was 9 and my youngest was 1. My children grew up. I remember Betty during times when we didn’t have enough food, or I couldn’t provide Christmas, or pay for my kids to go to camp. Betty would rally the church to help. I was embarrassed sometimes, and Betty would tell me that’s what church people do.

     Betty was there for me during some of the most difficult times of my life – times when circumstances almost destroyed me. My struggles in a bad marriage. My divorce after 22 years. My 15-year-old daughter having a baby, making me a grandmother at 32. Another daughter giving a baby up for adoption. Another daughter rebelling and leaving home. Betty was my shoulder to cry on, my encourager, and she never failed to pray for me and my children. Or give us a lecture and a piece of her mind.

     Betty loved to laugh and have fun. She was often the instigator whenever our ladies group pulled pranks or got into shenanigans, and I have pictures to prove it. She coordinated all my daughters’ weddings, and Pastor Leroy performed the ceremony. They oversaw many of my grandchildren’s dedications.

     Because of Betty’s and Leroy’s example and support, I have children in ministry today.

     We got older – Betty and I. It happens. Even as her health deteriorated the last several years, she always managed to look beautiful. She was a classy lady. It grieved me to watch Parkinson’s destroy her body. In December of 2016, Betty went home to the Trinity (God, Jesus, Holy Spirit) she had dedicated her life to serve.

     That last week of her life while her children, Becky, Philip, Sheila and I were talking about Betty going to heaven and what would she be do there. I said she would help Jesus set up for the marriage Supper of the Lamb.

    Has your influence made someone a better person? Changed the course of their lives? Brought hope? 
    There will never be another Betty in my life. I can never repay her for all she was to me and my children. But, I, and every one of us, can be a Betty in someone’s life. 

Why I Write

It was 1981. I was in my early 30’s, a young mother of five children. I was active and involved in church with a life filled with crises. My marriage had hit bottom, my oldest child – a fifteen-year-old daughter – was pregnant, there was never enough money to meet our needs. The list could go on, but you get the idea. 

I loved Jesus. When plagued with despair and depression, times when my faith was shaken, I clung to God – sometimes by a slender thread. I remember standing in the church kitchen on a Sunday after our ladies had served food, set up and took down the fellowship hall. As president over our women’s group, I had been busy. In a quiet lull, my shoulders slumped with the enormity of the problems I was facing. 

One of the church ladies walked into the kitchen. I pasted a smile on my face and engaged in small talk. Few people knew everything, but most knew some of my struggles. Mary gazed at me with compassion. “You are such an inspiration, Leola. No matter what you’re going through, you never miss church. You stay strong in your faith.”

I thanked her. She left the room. I gritted my teeth, fought back tears, and mumbled, “I don’t want to be an inspiration anymore, God. I just want the pain to go away. I want to not hurt anymore. I want my life to be okay. Why? Why is all this happening to me?”

There have been a few times in my life when the spirit of God has spoken clearly to my spirit. He did then. He simply said, “Because of what I’ve called you to do.”

For years, I thought the “calling” God referred to was this thing or that thing. I’ve always been involved in ministry in the church. Years after God spoke that to me, I worked nineteen years in the ministry of Teen Challenge. Maybe that’s what God meant.

Do you feel called by God to be a writer? It was a dream re-birthed in me before I retired from Teen Challenge. I can truthfully say it’s what God has called me to do at this stage of my life. So why hasn’t my writing journey been what I anticipated it would be? Especially since God reminded me, “Because of what I’ve called you to do.” I know now that all my experiences in life, the good and the not-so-good, have set the groundwork for my writing. 

The voice of our writing is usually an extension of our life experiences. I write/want to write about real life issues Christians face. As my own experiences weave in and out of what I write, I understand that although God isn’t responsible for the things that ripped my heart out, He has used it to bring depth to my writing that wouldn’t have been possible otherwise.
 
I’m truly convinced God has called me to write. So why do I have so many days where I just flat out don’t want to write? Days I ask myself what’s the use. Who’s going to read my stories or books? 
You know what? The enemy of my soul tells me those things. I’m responsible to write. God gets it to whoever it’s meant for. 

God, I pray for those who are struggling right now. Whether it’s in their personal life or in their writing journey. Remind us of your faithfulness. Remind us that what you have birthed in us will accomplish your purpose if we stay true to the calling. Your love, your mercy and grace are sufficient. You reign over our lives in splendor and majesty. Thank you, father God.  

Excerpt From "In An Eveningtide"

Can a woman who has loved a man her whole life forgive him for his betrayal? Can she bring herself to marry him knowing he has never truly loved her?


In An Eveningtide: page 184

Betty couldn’t sleep that night. She tried to pray and couldn’t. She was angry at God. All of her life, she had been the good, sweet girl. The people pleaser. Always doing for others. Why had God let this happen? Hadn’t she prayed her whole life about Josiah? Hadn’t she begged God to make him love her?

She hated Josiah for not loving her. But hadn’t she always known that?  She had lived in fear that he wouldn’t marry her. Now he wanted to marry her. Probably to help hide his affair. She would show him. She wouldn’t marry him.

She groaned, and bit her lip until she tasted blood. Who was she kidding? She couldn’t live without Josiah. She didn’t want to live without him. But the girl – the woman, whoever she was – if Betty ever found out who it was, she would tear her to pieces with her fingernails. What kind of person would try to destroy a good man like Josiah? Only an evil person.

Betty balled her hands and pounded them into her pillow. She was glad she lived alone as her sobs filled the air. She knew Josiah would never fall in love with an evil person. Whoever she was, she must be beautiful and alluring and sweet for Josiah to love her.  Even when Josiah was her husband, would she, whoever she was, still have his heart?

No, not if Betty could help it. She would be the best wife in the world. She would be everything Josiah wanted her to be. She would make him forget this other woman. He would love her. She would make it happen.

https://www.amazon.com/Eveningtide-minister-secrets-Legacy-Secrets-ebook/dp/B01IE2VPZE/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1476299293&sr=1-1&keywords=in+an+eveningtide

In An Eveningtide

https://www.amazon.com/Eveningtide-minister-secret-destroy-Secrets-ebook/dp/B01IE2VPZE/ref=sr_1_1?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1469294605&sr=1-1&keywords=in+an+eveningtide#nav-subnav

My New Book

I have not blogged in a while and for that, I apologize. I could give excuses, but, eh, why bother? I was lazy. I didn’t blog.

But – today, I am blogging. Why? Because I have a new book to promote. In An Eveningtide is about a nice, but prideful, evangelist – who doesn’t realize he’s prideful. The book covers forty years in the lives of Josiah Lathim – the evangelist – and Leah – a newly converted-to-Christianity Jewish girl who has a baby and a husband in Viet Nam – after their brief affair.

Think The Thorn Birds, a 1977 book by Colleen McCullough that was made into a television mini-series starring Richard Chamberlain and Rachel Ward. The book covers sixty years in the Cleary family. My book In An Eveningtide is similar – sort of – but different – sort of.

I loosely based the book as a modern version of the story of David and Bathsheba is 2 Samuel. Why would I want to write a book about moral failure in a man of God – a minister?

I’m glad you asked.

I have been involved in ministry most of my adult life. I have seen, and known, men of God – ministers – who have fallen – men I loved and respected. I had more questions than answers when this happened.  The biggest question or concern I had was can a man of God be restored and be successful in ministry after moral failure?

I believe they can if they truly repent and vow to never go back to their failure. BUT! Although God forgives and restores, a chain reaction has been put in motion that does not go away.

I realize many people will not like my book. I may get harsh criticism, and honestly, it will hurt. But I wrote it. I felt God wanted me to write it. I hope you read it.

And God bless us – everyone!

https://www.amazon.com/Eveningtide-minister-secret-destroy-Secrets-ebook/dp/B01IE2VPZE/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1469245339&sr=8-1&keywords=In+An+Eveningtide#nav-subnav

Epic Fail Again On That New Year's Resolution To Diet

Every year I make a list of New Year's resolutions. Every. Year. And every year I fail at some or most of them. I always include diet and eating healthier, exercising more. The following is a cute tale I wrote for FaithWriters weekly challenge. Enjoy

TITLE: The Imaginary World of Edith and Joy By Leola Ogle 08/07/12

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Monday morning and I’m starting my usual beginning-of-the-week diet again. Those rascally gals, Edith and Joy, have already made wagers as to how many days I’ll last this time. I know Joy has faith in me, but that Edith! If she wasn’t such a glutton with an enormous sweet tooth, I’d be able to stick to a diet. Besides, she’s a real bully and I admit, I’ve always been a bit of a pushover. If I just had more backbone, I’d stand up to her.

If you ask my husband, he’ll say that Edith and Joy don’t exist; says it’s all in my mind. Humph! Not in my mind – somewhere between my taste buds and stomach. That’s where Edith and Joy live. 

Off to a good start this morning - oatmeal with fresh blueberries and skim milk. That flutter in my stomach is Joy doing her happy dance. I just love Joy; makes me feel good to make her happy. She’s that skinny girl in me trying to get out.

By ten o’clock my stomach’s rumbling, but I ignore it. It’s just Edith making her demands, “Hey, what about me?” Well, I’m the boss here. I will not succumb to her bullying today. Take that, you sneaky villain, I say with a smile. 

Diet goes hand-in-hand with exercise so I decide to watch the Olympics. Those sleek, athletic girls playing beach volleyball are an inspiration. I want to look like that, although I’ll not disappoint my Lord by wearing a skimpy swimsuit in public like they do. 

Fueled by this inspiration, I do a few jumping-jacks and torso-twists. Ugh! This is NOT fun. No more of that, but I promise myself to do some walking this evening. 

I better shut that pesky Edith up, though. That gal simply does not know the meaning of self-control, a fruit of the spirit. Maybe some apple with peanut butter will keep her quiet. She likes peanut butter, although she prefers it in cookies or those Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups. It’s a struggle to pull my mind from the image of chocolate surrounding peanut butter, but I do it.

I sail on through to lunchtime feeling good about myself. As I dig through the refrigerator gathering salad fixings, I notice all those plastic bowls containing leftovers from the feast our family had after church yesterday. “Hm, some of that can be thrown away,” I say out loud for Edith’s and Joy’s benefit. “I’ll do that after I eat lunch.”

I love salads, and that’s no lie. I just wish they were more filling. I could throw some shredded cheese, avocado, walnuts, dried cranberries and a handful of M&M’s on it. Wait! What? I didn’t mean that about the M&M’s. Not sure how that slipped in there.

I watch the Olympic gymnastics competition while I eat my salad. My, oh my! I don’t think God created our bodies to twist and contort like that. Those girls fly in the air while twisting and turning and still manage to land on their feel. That certainly isn’t natural. I can’t help but smile. Just wait until they get to be my age. They’ll regret torturing their bodies like that. I’m sure they’ve injured joints and muscles that they’re just not aware of yet.

Sighing, I get off the sofa determined to clean out the refrigerator. I line all the bowls on the counter. Some I’ll save for my husband, some I’ll throw away. Mixed vegetable. Back in the fridge. Potato casserole. Back in the fridge. Meatloaf. Back in the fridge. Half a slice of banana cream pie. Back in the…now wait a minute. Bananas are healthy, aren’t they? And it’s only a half slice.

Rinsing the empty bowl and putting it in the dishwasher, I look back in the refrigerator. There should be a couple of leftover brownies that escaped the clutches of my grandchildren. Ah, yes, bless that Edith’s heart. I’m sure it was her that helped me remember that I’d hidden them in the vegetable bin. Clever of me!

Washing my hands after a restroom break, I’m stunned to see chocolate crumbs and yellow smudges around my mouth. That darned Edith; I can’t believe she tricked me into that. No worries, I just won’t eat dinner and get on the treadmill instead.

There’s my phone. “Sorry, Joy”, I mumble after hanging up, “my husband’s taking me out to dinner tonight. “Seriously, Joy, if you weren’t such a wimp, you’d send that Edith packing.”

2015 - My Year in review

We are already several days into the new year of 2016; 2015 has come to an end. Some will say good riddance. Others will look back on 2015 with fond memories. Life, with all its twists and turns, happens. Our experiences are the sum of the all the good and the bad.

So how was 2015 for me? I’m glad you asked. It was a mixture of pleasant and not-so-pleasant happenings. But throughout it all, God was faithful, loving, and compassionate. He always is. A few highlights of my 2015:

In May, my mother-in-law, Shirley, went home to be with Jesus the Thursday before Mother’s Day. She had been ill for a while, but it was still heartbreaking. Her passing would begin an emotional journey for my husband that has still not been resolved. Sometimes we don’t know what wounds and unresolved issues are inside of us until circumstances reveal it.

The Sunday, Mother’s Day, after Shirley’s passing, our grandson, Judah, was born. He is beautiful and sweet-natured. We also had two great-granddaughters born in May and June within weeks of each other: Zoey in Ohio, the fifth child to my Air Force grandson and his Air Force wife. And Zoey in Phoenix, second daughter to my granddaughter and her husband. Two Zoeys make it Zoey-fabulous.

The Monday after Mother’s Day, I drove myself to the ER – my husband was in Prescott with his dad and brothers – with horrible pain in the right side of my forehead and eye that turned out to be shingles. I was admitted to the hospital that night in excruciating pain, and kept heavily sedated for the next several days. There was a possibility I could lose sight in my right eye because of shingles in that eye. Praise God – and that is a sincere, humble gratitude – that I didn’t.

Shirley’s memorial service wasn’t until June and held in beautiful Prescott, Arizona where my in-laws lived. It was a precious tribute to her – she would’ve loved every moment of it. Alas, crises and tragedies bring out the best and worst in people, and both things happened as a result of this memorial service. There are no perfect families. Toxicity resides in the best of people, but hateful cruelty spews from the heart of toxicity in some people. Only God can bring a spirit of love, peace, and forgiveness to hearts.

I attended my first ever ACFW – American Christian Fiction Writers – in September in Dallas, TX. We combined this trip with a visit by my husband, Jeff, and father-in-law, Phil, to family in Grand Prairie and Stephenville. God answered some of my prayers through this conference. I got to see/meet some favorite authors and people in the industry: Francine Rivers, Brandilyn Collins, Deborah Raney, Randy Ingermanson, Steve Laube, Chip MacGregor. I’m sure I’ve left out some names. I made new friendships. It was a treasured time for me.

Motivated by the conference, I had hoped to publish a book by the end of 2015, but it was not to happen. My life and wonderful, but huge family, can be overwhelming at times – especially around the holidays – and this year it seemed intensified. That’s my excuse/reason and I’m sticking to it. * happy face wink wink* But the conference seemed to point out that I should go the indie publishing route, and that is currently where I'm at with my writing.

I entered a contest with FaithWriters in 2015. My novel entry placed in the top 15, but didn't win. I appreciate the wonderful, helpful, and inspiring feedback I got from Deb Porter. She's a master at pointing out flaws and problem areas in your writing in a loving, encouraging manner.

In December, we got another great-granddaughter – a medical miracle baby – Isabelle. We thank God for a perfect, beautiful, healthy baby. Our family does babies very well. And my father-in-law, Phil, moved to Texas. We sure miss him, but will see him during the year.

So overall, it was a blessed year, fraught with some difficulties. My husband is still on a journey to resolve and reconcile some relationships – and because he is, I am also because I'm his wife and helpmate. God is so gentle and loving as He works in our lives. His mercies are new every morning and endure forever. We rest in the assurance that He has all things under control. We are blessed with a wonderful family and friends. 

I am believing God for a blessed and happy year of 2016. For God’s hand can be found in all that we encounter as we journey in our life on Earth. We are part of a destiny that is eternal. 

Veterans day -- God Bless Our Military

Today is Veteran’s Day. News and all social media reminds us to thank our veterans. And most of us do. But most have no idea of the true sacrifice our military makes. I truly don’t understand the sacrifices made. We hear on the news about some soldier losing his/her life in Iraq or Afghanistan, and we are sorrowful, maybe even share on Facebook, “remembering the family in prayer,” but it really hasn’t impacted our daily lives.

My first recollection of a military person was when I, as a young child, heard the whispered conversation of relatives discussing how my Uncle Paul had never been the same since his experiences during World War II. He thought it was the enemy creeping up on his foxhole, so he shot, but it was his best friend.

Uncle Paul seemed quite normal to me, but then, I never knew him before. As an adult, I have thought of him – he’s been in heaven for many years – with sorrow and gratitude for what he went through.

My granddaughter, Cierra’s husband, Zack, suffered PTSD from his time in Iraq. He is a quiet, gentle young man, and unless you knew, you wouldn’t know by his behavior or demeanor. The Army has determined he was traumatized enough to deserve disability.

My oldest grandchild, Ethan, and his wife, Rachel, both currently serve in the Air Force. Ethan has done two tours in Afghanistan and Rachel one. In fact, their tours overlapped once by three months. One was in Bagram and the other in Herat. During that time, their small children – my great-grandchildren – had to live with my daughter and her husband, their grandparents. When the two-year-old was hospitalized with pneumonia, there was a frantic couple of hours while phone connections were made to a worried mother in Afghanistan.

Ethan and Rachel are both in the medical field. When Ethan returned to Afghanistan, he requested to not be sent as an EMT again. It was traumatizing to work on his wounded friends, some who died. But, of course, medical is what they needed him for.

Another of my grandsons, Jacob, is in the Navy. While on a submarine for seven months, his marriage fell apart, and his wife left with, taking their toddler son. “I thought I could do this, but I can’t,” she said. When he returned, it took several months to reconcile, but they did. Thank God.

These are some of the sacrifices. So, with a heart filled with gratitude, I take this time on my blog to say THANK YOU to all military past, present, and future.  It seems an inadequate tribute to those who lay their lives on the line for our freedom. May God bless and keep you. 

Thank You Facebook, For Keeping Friendships Connected

I love and hate social media. I love Facebook. I hate Facebook. I love seeing pictures and updates of my military grandchildren and great-grandchildren who live in other states…or occasionally are deployed. I love keeping up with old friends and making new friends. However, I dislike the way some people use it as a platform for drama or to vent their animosity or to attack others.  

I am sixty-seven years old. During my sixty seven years, I have met a lot of people, and many others have crossed my path. One of the greatest joys I have from Facebook is connecting or reconnecting with friends from my childhood.

With a name like Leola, I am fairly easy to find. Really, how many Leolas are there in the world? Well, more than I thought, but still…..My oldest friend found me, who since has dropped off of Facebook -- Joyce…it was Owens when we were kids, but her last name changed a couple of times. I knew her when we were five or six. She was in a family of eight kids: Aubrey, Noel, Elaine, Paulette, Joyce, Iris, Leah, Rita.

Then another childhood friend found me on Facebook, Ginny (Virginia) when we first met in fourth grade. It has been so much fun to follow each other on Facebook, although she now lives in a different state.

The most fun I’ve had with Facebook, though, is staying connected with my friends from my church youth group days. Oh, the fond, fond memories of my youth group days – and the occasional not-so-fond memories. My closest friends then were Sande and Carolyn. But also dear friends from that era who are on Facebook: Josie, Barbara, Brinda. And my brother, Gerald, also on Facebook from my youth group.

If you are a writer and draw a blank – writers’ block – and can’t think of anything to write about, you have undoubtedly hundreds of story plots from your own life and the people you know. Use your imagination and build and fictionalize on events in your life. Sande and I got married in the same year…as young, starry-eyed teenagers. We had five babies each (she later had a sixth), usually in the same years. Carolyn was the pastor’s daughter. Sande married the pastor’s son. Josie married another of the pastor’s sons.

My life entwining with theirs gives numerous fodder for building a story. Thank you Facebook. 

Happy "Back to the Future" Day - October 21, 2015

Happy “Back to the Future” day. Today is the day, October 21, 2015, that took place in the future of the movie Back To The Future. The future – now – doesn’t look like it was portrayed in the movie. Hoverboards? Time travel? It didn’t happen that way. And some of the clothing….well, I’m glad it didn’t make a fashion statement for today.

As a child or a teenager, did you have expectations of what the future held? Goals? Dreams? I’m sure most of us did. Even at my age, I still have hopes and dreams for my future. Hoverboards….naw, I don’t think I care, or I’d even be interested in a hoverboard. When I was younger, maybe. Imagine a great-grandmother with a look of sheer terror on her face, riding a hoverboard and praying out loud, interspersed with squeals of fear, while she tries to remain an upright position. Yeah, that would be me.

What makes our dreams and goals a reality? Well, hard work and perseverance, for sure. It would be interesting to see into the future. Or not. It might be frightening.

I don’t know what my future holds – it won’t include hoverboards for me – but I know who holds my future. I don’t just who it is, I know him personally. It has been the single, most defining event in my life, when I, as a fourteen-year-old girl, knelt at an altar and asked Jesus to be Lord of my life. He has never failed me or let me down.

When I was younger and more immature in my relationship with Jesus, I thought he let me down plenty of times. But looking back, Jesus always had what was best for me in mind, although I didn’t always do what was best for me.

Marty McFly and Doc, you can have your hoverboards and DeLoreans. I have Jesus, and he is more than enough. 

My Agent Meetings at the ACFW Conference 2015

This year was my first ever to attend an ACFW (American Christian Fiction Writers) Conference. It was in September and held in Dallas, TX. I have attended two other writers conferences held by organizations. The first was ACW (American Christian Writers) held in Mesa, AZ a few years ago, and the other was a FaithWriters held in Portland, OR.

The ACFW Conference was certainly the most phenomenal – phenomenal in that so many of my favorite authors were there: Francine Rivers, Brandilyn Collins, Cara Putnam, Deborah Raney, and others.

I loved that they prayed over everything. I loved that they had a praise and worship band led by Rachel Hauck that truly was praise and worship and not just entertainment. I loved the general sessions, the meals, the workshops, and our opportunity to have a one-on-one with top agents, editors, publishing houses, and mentors. I chose four agents with my understanding that I would get to meet with at least one of my choices, possibly two.

I got to meet with all of my choices except one, Karen Ball, with the Steve Laube Agency, because Karen was unable to attend. If Karen would have been there, I would've met with her, also. I’ll share what I gleaned from these meetings. Three meetings when I was expecting one, maybe two. Yikes!

The first thing I learned is to more thoroughly research who I choose to meet with. Why? Because they all want something different. And some personalities are not a match for me. Once I submitted my four choices weeks before the conference, I soon decided I needed to change two choices. When I contacted the ACFW person in charge of appointments, the if-you-want-to-change process seemed too detailed, plus I was in the middle of three weeks of stressful computer issues. I decided to not change my choices and simply take my chances. In hindsight, I should’ve made the changes – not because the agents I met with weren’t terrific people, but because by the time I got to two meetings, I already knew it wouldn’t be a fit for me.

My first appointment was on Friday with Tamela Hancock Murray with the Steve Laube Agency. (I really like the Steve Laube Agency). I was nervous going into this meeting and it showed. I wasn’t nervous because Tamela isn’t a delightful lady – she is. I was nervous because, #1: What I had to pitch to her had already been submitted to Karen Ball (same agency) in July. It’s kind of a no-no to submit to multiple people in an agency. I had to be honest with Tamela and tell her the minute I sat across from her that Karen Ball had this proposal. #2: From what I gather from Tamela’s website, she mostly represents Harlequin’s Love Inspired authors. At this point in my writing, I am not interested in writing for Love Inspired. My appointment with Tamela was not fruitful, but she is a lovely and gracious lady and I am glad I got to meet her. If I decide to do Love Inspired, I would love her as my agent.

My second appointment, also on Friday, was with Chip MacGregor. When I wanted to change my appointments prior to going to the conference, I wanted to change Chip and Tamela. But, as previously mentioned, I decided to just leave my choices the way they were. Chip MacGregor. What can I say about him? By his own admission (I follow him on Facebook and his blog), he is snarky. Trust me, he is snarky. But he is probably one of the most knowledgeable about the publishing industry, and one of the most successful agents in our nation. I wasn’t nervous meeting him because I decided I didn’t care. I had already sat in on a workshop with a panel of agents, and another workshop panel of indie authors. I am going to be an indie author, I decided, so I didn’t much care what Chip thought of me. But it was a good meeting. He was kind – said my writing was good, but he’s not the least bit interested in the book I was pitching him. No surprises there. I could go into more detail, but won’t, except to say prior to this meeting with Chip, I had had two other encounters with him. He was kind and gracious both times. My opinion is -- and this is strictly my opinion -- he's only snarky if you disagree with his political and religious views. But as agent, he will push and fight for you.

My last appointment was with Steve Laube on Saturday at 4 PM, one of his last appointments, I’m sure. He looked tired, and I was tired. I wasn’t nervous meeting with him, mostly because I had definitely, without a doubt, decided I want to be an indie author. So I was going to feel okay regardless of what Steve had to say. I will say, he is probably one of the kindest people I have met in the writing/publishing industry. )Another kind person is Deb Porter with FaithWriters and Breath of Fresh Air Publishing, but she’s not my topic.) I pitched my book – a different one than I pitched to Tamela, but the same I pitched to Chip. This book contains a controversial topic for the CBA – Christian Book Association – because it has a brief reference to abortion (the heroine has an abortion when she’s a teenager), and the main theme is an evangelist, the hero, has a brief, passionate affair. These topics will not fly in most CBA circles, especially from an unknown author.

Steve was very kind and gracious. I enjoyed my appointment with him the most – not because I landed him as an agent, but because of his personality. A sincerely nice person. 

So what are the main things I learned from my agent appointments? * Research thoroughly. * Next time, pick at least one mentor or critique appointment.  * Relax, they’re just human. * Ultimately the one I most want to please in my writing is God and not people. Still, to be successful, people have to read what I write or what’s the purpose of my message?

Write on, dear writers. Read on, dear readers. 

Off To My First Ever ACFW Conference

"We're off to see the wizard, the wonderful wizard of........"

Naw, I'm not off to see any wizard -- well, unless agents, editors, authors, publishers and the like could be considered wizards. I am sure that they are wizards......of a sort.

In my household, there has been a lot of family drama for weeks now, plus I've had computer problems. Major computer problems. To say that preparing for a major conference is stressful -- at least for me -- and then to have all this added stress with the computer issues and family drama.....let's just say, I could use any and all additional prayers.

As a side note: My husband and I hate drama and friction. We love living a life filled with peace and harmony. But often drama and friction slap us in the face anyway. *heavy heavy sigh* For a large - very large - blended family, we really have been blessed with very little friction and drama.

But back to the conference. I committed my writing to God in the beginning. Having done that, my requirement is to continually learning as much as I can about then craft of writing, strive to do the best I can, work diligently, and endeavor to be positive and bring honor to to God with my writing.

So why am I stressing? Because as humans, it's easy to say we give control of something to God, but it's even easier to take back control. Stress and worrying is exactly that -- us taking control. God is capable of handling our situations, circumstances, and needs. We -- I -- need to just let go and let Him.

Father God, I pray for everyone attending this conference from the leadership on down. You are ultimately in control of the lives of Your children, but only to the extent we allow You control. My destiny, as well as all destinies, of those who commit their lives to You. I thank You in advance for whatever I receive at this conference.