We know from the moment we understand life is a journey that every voyage has a destination, every journey has an end. My grandmother, Mary Cross Horning, left the planet yesterday, her journey complete.

Well into her 90s, her departure wasn’t a total surprise. In fact, we’ve seen evidence of her packed suitcases - if you will - for many months now. Every Monday when I came to visit her, I could see that the metaphorical luggage was fully in view, and was inching a little more toward the door, ready for her to slip home.

She’s actually been disappearing, a little more each moment, over the last seven years, starting the moment my Papa skipped away from us without even letting us know he was leaving. Of all the things that I loved most about her, I treasured the great store of love she had for my grandfather. I’ve never seen two people more in love than they were.

My grandmother was clever, feisty, tender-hearted, and compassionate. She taught me how to sew, how to swim, how to make animal pancakes, how to play poker - with pennies, of course. When my sisters and I were little, she made us matching dresses.

She was incredibly organized, an amazing cook - her Peking Beef was out of this world - and quick with her wit and commentary. Once, at Disneyland, I didn’t want to go on the Jungle Boat Cruise (I was afraid of the fake hippos) and my great-grandmother offered to sit it out with me on a bench outside the ride. My grandmother grabbed my hand and hoisted my trembling body onto the boat, telling my great-grandmother she and my Papa brought me to Disneyland to have a good time and by golly, I was going to have one whether I liked it or not.

I am so glad she never let me give in to fear.

Toward the end of her life, she spent our visits together reminding me of her favorite memories. Her childhood home on Capitol Street in Washington D.C., eloping with my grandfather on the Fourth of July, the house she and my Papa and my dad had on the Chesapeake, the luaus on their San Diego patio, apricot cobbler by the pool, playing Scrabble, walks along Torrey Pines Beach and the Silver Strand, and always, always, how much she loved and missed my Papa.

This picture, of Papa and Grammary, with two of my kids when they were little, is so representative of who they were: Experts at loving people.

I was in her house yesterday, sitting in her favorite chair, when the mortuary came for her and wheeled her away. A little whooshing sound seemed to follow the gurney, like the last little bit of who she was jetting away from me. And rocketing toward another place.

I love this poem by Henry Van Dyke, which captures all that I am feeling this morning – a Monday – as I contemplate NOT going in to see her. And I close with it.

I am standing by the seashore.
A ship at my side spreads her white sails
to the morning breeze and starts for the blue ocean.
She is an object of beauty and strength,
and I stand and watch until at last
she hangs like a peck of white cloud
just where the sun and sky come down to mingle with each other.

Then someone at my side says,
'There she goes!'
Gone where? Gone from my sight - that is all.
She is just as large in mast and hull and spar
as she was when she left my side
and just as able to bear her load of living freight to the places of destination.
Her diminished size is in me, not in her.

And just at the moment
when someone at my side says,'There she goes!’
there are other eyes watching her coming,
and other voices ready to take up the glad shout:
'Here she comes!'

The shape of affirmation

Every now and then it’s good to have someone tell you that what you pour your heart and soul into matters. I’d like to think that’s the case with The Shape of Mercy, which was named the 2009 Christian Book of the Year for Fiction by the Evangelical Christian Publishers Association last Thursday night.

I’d like to think this award is that kind of affirmation. The words that bled out of me during the intense months that I wrote this book seemed to have struck a chord and I am honored and awed.

The field of finalists is a talented bunch and I count such colleagues as Jerry Jenkins, Tim Downs, Ann Gabhart and Christa Parrish as amazing artists of the written word. They are passionate wordsmiths all.

When I accepted the award at the Dallas Convention Center last week, I mentioned a snippet from a wonderful book I’d read on the plane that afternoon. I will review that novel later this week, so I won’t give it all away here, but one line within it (spoken by one of its characters, no less) makes me smile. The fictional character says he doesn’t read fiction because he doesn’t want to read about people who never existed doing things they never did. I love that line! I love it that a fictional character says it.

The truth is, I love the power of story to communicate truth through the life stories of people who never existed, doing things they never did. That power fuels me, fills me, thrills me.

It’s true I wrote a book half-filled with imaginary people, but they inhabited a true world and I foisted on them on a journey which I wanted to feel as real as the sun on your face.

It feels good to know what I wanted might have actually happened.

It must’ve felt real.

If you live near Dallas. . .

. . . or you know someone who does – you will want to know about the Christian Book Expo taking place at the Dallas Convention Center this weekend. This first-ever book fair for Christian books will feature more than 180 authors, 150 workshops and seminars led by authors, nightly inspirational events with authors and music artists. I will be at the WaterBrook Press booth on Friday from 1 to 1:30 p.m. and on Saturday, from 3 to 3:30 p.m. I will also be at the American Christian Fiction Writers booth on Saturday from 10 to 11 a.m. with a couple giveaways that people can sign up for to win! Yay! Free books!

You can save $5 off the admission to the Expo when you register online with the discount code: church5off. Go to ChristianBookExpo.com for all the particulars.

Okay, so if you don’t live near Dallas/Forth Worth: On Thursday night, the ECPA Christian Book Awards banquet will be take place at the Convention Center. The Shape of Mercy is one of five finalists for fiction book of the year. Wish me luck!

No staff for me

This past week I’ve been dialoging electronically with friends about the ridiculous amount of time we spend electronically communicating. It seems everywhere you turn there is a cyber water cooler, electronic living room or virtual coffee shop eager for your ears, your voice, your deepest thoughts, your most mundane jots.

The garden variety writer, at least the writer in me, is actually attracted to dialogue like this. That’s how we make sense of the world and find the grist for the word mill. We wouldn’t have much to say if we didn’t know what people cared about. The trouble is, and there is of course trouble, the electronic dialogue, though lightning fast, is pervasive and abyss-like. You fall in and there seems to be no end and no bottom. I could spend all day posting, reading and dialoging and never earn a dime to put toward the mortgage payment. And yet I’m told there is a reason for all these various cyber-efforts, beyond the mere chatter. If you are a writer, electronic networking and netsharing is seen as a powerful marketing tool.

So first there were the blogs (and I do see the irony here – that you are reading these ramblings of mine on a blog). Then came Facebook. And now I see colleagues turning to Twitter where they can post tiny updates called tweets to maintain a never-ending connection with the outside world. All in the name of maintaining a presence so that we won’t be forgotten.

I have to say, just the thought of coming up with a dozen tweets a day exhausts me. Twitterers tell me you have to do what works for you. Don’t tweet it you don’t want to. But I am wondering what is it about tweeting that “works?” How does constant electronic contact “work” for me? Writers who have the audacity to want to make a living at it give all their words away when they write for cyberspace, and their time, as well.

I have to ask myself if I blog and bum around Facebook because I want these cyber pals to "work" for me. And when it comes right down to it, I don’t. That’s not what I want. The books I write have to work for me or I should stop writing them. I don’t want the blog, the Facebook account, or any other cyber employee to “work” for me. I can’t judge their success as employees and I don’t want the pressure of monitoring their influence as employees.

This blog is a place for me to toss around my non-fiction thoughts and the Facebook account just lets me goof around with friends when I am not writing novels. Knowing this is knowing there is no pressure for either one to work for me. No pressure at all.

And man, oh man, how tweet that is.

Mary's Daisy Chain

The moment I saw the cover for my dear friend Mary DeMuth's new book, Daisy Chain, I was drawn. Mary's keen talent for the art of story, her authentic voice, her passion for relevant prose - these were already known to me. The haunting cover clinched it. I knew I wanted to get my hands on that book. I was thrilled to get an advance review copy and I was, not suprisingly, carried away by her melodic flair for dramatic Southern fiction.

Mary doesn't waste anything when she writes, and she takes in the world - in all its beauty and ugliness - to tell a story. She doesn't back away from the hard truths, and I admire that. Most stories that touch your heart have to wound it a little first.

The story in nutshell is this: The abrupt disappearance of young Daisy Chance from a small Texas town in 1973 spins three lives out of control-Jed, whose guilt over not protecting his friend Daisy strangles him; Emory Chance, who blames her own choices for her daughter’s demise; and Ouisie Pepper, who is plagued by headaches while pierced by the shattered pieces of a family in crisis.In this first book in the Defiance, Texas Trilogy, fourteen-year-old Jed Pepper has a sickening secret: He’s convinced it’s his fault his best friend Daisy went missing. Jed’s pain sends him on a quest for answers to mysteries woven through the fabric of his own life and the lives of the families of Defiance, Texas. When he finally confronts the terrible truths he’s been denying all his life, Jed must choose between rebellion and love, anger and freedom. Here's Mary in her own words:

Susan: Mary, Where did you get the idea for the book?
Mary: I had a friend who shared a difficult story with me. He grew up in a Christian home. His father was in leadership in the Christian community. From the outside, all looked perfect. But behind closed doors, life was very, very hard. I wanted to expose that kind of abuse. That’s why the idea of family secrets plays heavily into all three books of the Defiance, Texas trilogy.

Susan : What themes have you woven into the fabric of the story?
Mary: The importance (and elusiveness) of authenticity.The devastation of maintaining and keeping family secrets.Redemption comes from surprising people.Feeling guilty doesn’t always equal reality. True friendship involves sacrifice.

Susan: So, how do you research a book like this?

Mary: Having lived in East Texas for two years, I absorbed a lot of the geography and colloquialisms of the area. A lot of my research happened as I wrote. I also researched battered wives and police procedure (Thanks, Officer Woodruff).

Susan: Is there a character in Daisy Chain that you relate to the most?

Mary: In high school, I was a lot like Hixon, living on the margins of life in some ways because I was so flat-out in love with Jesus. I wanted to share Him everywhere, and my speech was peppered with Jesusisms. But like Hixon, I also had another side to me, one I hid. Learning to be honest with myself and others about my own shortcomings—and, oh, they are aplenty—has made me a better Christ-follower in the long run. It’s not about appearing holy. It’s about being holy from the inside out. The only route to that kind of abundance is honest, excruciating disclosure with trusted friends and the God who sees it all.

Susan: What do you hope to accomplish with this book?

Mary: I liken this book to an Oprah book, but with hope. Yes, there is darkness and meanness abounding in this world, but God’s light has a way of fully penetrating that darkness. I hope Daisy Chain cradles the reader through its deep, scary journey clear through to the end because redemption will shine brighter in the midst of darkness. That’s my own personal testimony, so it can’t help but leak out on the page. My hope is that folks will see the need to share their family secrets in order to be set free. I also want people to see that the Body of Christ is probably much different looking than they first thought. Some appear holy. Others, in distressing disguises, actually are.

Susan: Thanks, Mary!

You can view a wonderfully composed booktrailer for Daisy Chain right here. And Mary has crafted a Family Secrets blog that dovetails with the themes in Daisy Chain. Sometimes people just need an anonymous place to release ugliness from the past that fell upon them in the place that should have been a haven; home. Check it out here.

New from Robin Lee Hatcher

Robin Lee Hatcher, a good friend and one of the nicest people you'd could ever hope to meet, has a new book out that I am happy to yak about here on Edgewise. When Love Blooms (Zondervan) had a December 08 birthday originally in the works, but it actually just hit shelves in the last few days.


Here’s a little teaser about it:

"Emily Harris didn't belong in the hard life of the Blakes. She would wilt there like a rose without water. He'd be sending her back to Boise before the first snows. He'd be willing to bet on it.

From the moment Gavin Blake set eyes on Emily Harris, he knew she would never make it in the rugged high country where backbreaking work and constant hardship were commonplace. Beautiful and refined, she was accustomed to the best life had to offer. Heaven only knew why she wanted to leave Boise to teach two young girls on a ranch miles from nowhere. He'd wager it had to do with a man. It always did when a beautiful woman was involved.

Emily wanted to make some sort of mark on the world before marriage. She wanted to be more than just a society wife. Though she had plenty of opportunities back East, she had come to the Idaho high country looking to make a difference. Gavin’s resistance to her presence made her even more determined to prove herself. Perhaps changing the heart of just one man may make the greatest difference of all."


You can see a book trailer right here:

REVIEWS:

“Penned with the descriptive nibs of all the five senses, Robin Lee Hatcher transports the reader to the magnificent high country of Idaho in a thoroughly engaging tale of love and wounded heroes. When Love Blooms is layered with appealing characters, and I was so at home with the story's cast, I felt like I was like viewing my own family history. I have yet to read a Hatcher novel that didn't entrance me from the first page, and with a unique plot for a romance, When Love Blooms is no exception. Novel Reviews and I give it a high recommendation.” — Novel Reviews

ABOUT ROBIN:

Robin Lee Hatcher discovered her vocation as a novelist after many years of reading everything she could put her hands on, including the backs of cereal boxes and ketchup bottles. The winner of the Christy Award for Excellence in Christian Fiction (Whispers from Yesterday), the RITA Award for Best Inspirational Romance (Patterns of Love and The Shepherd's Voice), two RT Career Achievement Awards (Americana Romance and Inspirational Fiction), and the RWA Lifetime Achievement Award, Robin is the author of over 60 novels, including Catching Katie, named one of the Best Books of 2004 by the Library Journal.

Robin enjoys being with her family, spending time in the beautiful Idaho outdoors, reading books that make her cry, and watching romantic movies. She is passionate about the theater, and several nights every summer, she can be found at the outdoor amphitheater of the Idaho Shakespeare Festival, enjoying Shakespeare under the stars. She makes her home on the outskirts of Boise, sharing it with Poppet the high-maintenance Papillon.

Pointers from the dark side

This past weekend I was reminded again of how quick "the church" is to criticize "the church." It doesn't matter which blog I was reading nor who was castigating whose theology - even though both are believers. I think most of us have seen the body of Christ sadly hacking at its own limbs all in the name of doctrinal purity - or something like that.

So when I read this snippet today in Charles Spurgeon's Morning & Evening, I felt like the 19th century theologian had read the same blog post and offered this plea:

"Observe the prince of darkness, how persevering in his endeavors, how unabashed in his attempts, how daring in his plans, how thoughtful in his plots, how energetic in all! The devils are united as one man in their infamous rebellion, while we believers in Jesus are divided in our service of God, and scarecely ever work with unanimity. O that from Satan's infernal industry we may learn to go about like Good Samaritans, seeking whom we may bless."

Apparently, we've been at this for years. Spurgeon died in 1892.

Do you ever wonder, like I do, what we could accomplish if we spent more time in the construction business than the demolition business?