A Pumpkin Lover Makes my Day

     After an exhilarating run of almost 2,000 of my e-bboks snatched up during the free promotional, it is now full price again, a whopping $2.99, and I hope sales will still skyrocket being as now I would actually get paid for them....
     However, I was paid in an unexpected way. Not with money, but as we all know, money can't buy happiness. (Don't get me wrong- go out and buy my book in droves so I can fully test that theory....) My payment came in a review from someone who calls herself  "Love my Pumpkins". I have no idea who this is. I was looking at my book site which no longer shows me the ranking in my category since the promotion ended. But I did notice a new review. Pumpkin Lover stated better than I could what I had hoped to accomplish with my book.  So today, I will post her review instead of my own thoughts because she was the encouraging voice of God channeled in my direction :

I just love this book. I'm sure my family/friends are sick of hearing me gush over it, but it really is a must-read. I don't care if you're atheist or "cat" person, it's the kind of compassion and self-depreciation that Vicky shows that really makes you want to be a better person yourself! This tale (tail?) ends up being a self-help book since you can't help but reflect on your own reliance and values.

First off, Kaseorg is a wonderful soul who grapples with her inner-monologue....dialogue....trialogue, if there is such a thing. There is a dog, Honeybun, who wants so little from life. But like most people, Kaseorg's world is stuffed full of "commitments" that she barely sees the space for this sad mutt. Unbeknownst to the author, Honeybun is barely a mutt but an American Dingo and a fantastic agility dog! What Kaseorg and her daughter teach this dog comes back to them ten-fold when this four-legged wonder gives them lessons on life.

"I'm Listening With a Broken Ear" isn't a 'happy-ending' kind or book, nor is is a 'happy-start'. It's the kind of book that gives you a correlation between spiritual beliefs (the Bible), familial controversies and good old-fashioned dog behavioral tips. Kudos to Kaseorg for putting into words what so many of us can't! 

When I finished reading this review, I was in tears. So this is what I had set out to do, I thought! This Pumpkin Lover nailed it. I love how she reminds us...and me.... that time commitments can crowd out eternal blessings and prevent us from doing what we really should. Pumpkin Lover, whoever you are, Thankyou for that beautiful and encouraging reminder today.

Acts 15: 31
³¹ The people read it and were glad for its encouraging message.

 

Apathy Replaced

I took Honeybun and Asherel out to the backyard, and told her I was going to show her two different scenarios.
"I am not an agility handler, so try to ignore my handling skill."
Asherel swung on the tire swing, and watched.

"Here is scenario number one," I said.
I showed Honeybun the food bait, but otherwise, I acted a little bored and disinterested. Calmly, as though we were taking a stroll through the park, I pointed to jumps and quietly asked her if she might like to follow me. Because she is a good and loving dog, she did the course, but she did it slowly and with little enthusiasm or joy.

"Now, here is scenario number two," I said.
I bounced up and down and growled at Honeybun. I crouched and swiped at her, and urged her to play. She tumbled into play position and perked up with delight. I told her to "wait" at the start line, but I bent low and in a deep excited growl, repeated, "Ready? Ready? Ready?"
Every muscle in the little dog quivered as she could hardly contain herself.
"Go!" I shouted. She shot over the jumps. We raced together around the course, me shrieking and yelping encouragements and cuing her as far as my poor handling skills could, with excited vigor.  Honeybun roared over the jumps and then weaved with a skip, raced through the tunnel, and soared exuberantly through the course. She collected her reward, prancing and wagging.
"See the difference?" I asked.
"Fine," said Asherel, "But practice handling before you do that again."
She took the remainder of the hotdog and marched off to impose joy and enthusiasm on her happy dog.

I think we may have solved the problem of the disinterested dog who didn't seem to want to run the course on Sunday. If it is a job with no fun, no play, no excitement....well, jobs get old fast. And if the leader isn't particularly enthusiastic about what he is telling his soldiers to do, the soldiers will eventually mutiny.

There are lessons to home schooling moms like me in this little vignette. And as a wife, as a mother, as a worker, as a volunteer...Sometimes we all lose steam. Life becomes a drudgery, and exhausting, and we sink into robotic going through the motions with no real heart. One of the big lessons of the very hard year of rehabilitating Honeybun was that even when I didn't feel like being the strong alpha dog in her pack, I had to be a convincing fake. For her own security, she had to know that I was in charge and I would not let her down. And the more I practiced being what I knew I had to be, the better I became at it.

I woke up this morning, and snapped open the newspaper. There was a long article about my book, and our year of struggle rehabilitating the little dog! I have been in the paper a few times because of the accomplishments of my kids...but never because of something I have done. I smiled up to my ears, and thought about how I had almost given up, over and over and over again. However, God just wouldn't let me, until I ran the course, and ran it with joy.

Whatever we do, we are commanded by God to do it wholeheartedly, as for the Lord, and not for others. He doesn't command this to exhaust us with the sheer burden of energetic living. He commands it because in the end, we will be transformed. Apathy has no place in a world that is filled with rainbows, and waterfalls, and dogs with wagging tails.

Ephesians 6:6-8

⁶ Obey them not only to win their favor when their eye is on you, but as slaves of Christ, doing the will of God from your heart. ⁷ Serve wholeheartedly, as if you were serving the Lord, not people, ⁸ because you know that the Lord will reward each one for whatever good they do

Plans amidst the waves

I saw the house I want to buy. It is on a huge lake, and right next to its dock is a rounded large rock, that slides into deep water. What fun the kids and their friends could have on this rock, all the way till they smashed their head open with the inevitable wrong step. I bobbed in my kayak and called the number posted on the dock.

"Are you the person selling the lake front house?" I asked, peering up the hill into the plateglass windows where the owner stood, talking on the phone.
"Yes," he said, "It has the finest view on the lake."
I glanced around me, "I can see that. How much are you asking?"

As I considered how even $100 would be too much to a family currently unemployed, I realized that there was a way we could afford the dream house. I began visualizing the form Disney would send for movie rights to my book.
"One million," Disney offered.
I kayaked and considered the offer. One million doesn't go far nowadays.
"Two," I countered, "And my son the lawyer will need to be sure it is all in order, of course."
"You drive a hard bargain," said Disney, "But because we feel so strongly that this is the best book ever written, we will offer you $3 million."
"Is that your final offer?" I asked, bobbing on the waves.
"Ok, 4," said Disney.

My castle building evaporated as a large wave from a passing jet-ski threatened to capsize the kayak. I paddled back towards the car, thinking how much my parents would enjoy having lunch on that beautiful deck on the cliff overlooking the lake. You never know. God brings visions and hopes for a reason.

Later when I told Arvo about my dream house, he said he would never forget a statement by a preacher, Charles Stanley: "God is not interested in our ease, pleasure, or comfort."
"How about my parents' ease, pleasure, and comfort?" I asked.

I suppose he is right. God puts His people through some pretty vigorous wash cycles at times. Still, He tells us that He wants to give us the desires of our heart. As I kayaked back, watching osprey soar overhead, the water blue green reflecting quiet forests around it, and listened to the stillness, I did have a lapse in my selfishness. I paused to thank God for all I have been given, for how many desires of my heart He has blessed me with over the years. And back home, I clicked on Amazon.com to discover that Comer's book was newly available for purchase. I was surprised to see my name beside his, as editor. I had known, of course, it would be on an inner page- I didn't expect any other billing. I wish I had done a better editing job....And he had already sold one book! My old millionaire friend had just made $3!
And it struck me that my sweet senior friend had received this seemingly impossible desire of his heart at age 93!
You just never know where the purposes of God might land you, or when. Until then, keep paddling.

Psalm 37:3-5

 ³ Trust in the LORD and do good;
   dwell in the land and enjoy safe pasture.
⁴ Take delight in the LORD,
   and he will give you the desires of your heart.
 ⁵ Commit your way to the LORD;
   trust in him and he will do this:

My purpose

Warning: If you want to bawl your eyes out, read A Dog's Purpose, by Bruce Cameron. I don't normally do book reviews on my blog, but this book grabbed me by the heart. It made me regret every harsh word I have ever spoken to any dog. Do not read this book if you have not been the absolute perfect owner of a dog for every second, and don't read it if you have ever treated any dog, even the hopeless smelly mutt that tried to eat your child, with anything but kindness.  I am not sure that is what the author had in mind, but the result of me reading this book was guilt. Then I went to my two sleeping dogs, and woke them up with my kisses and hugs. They did not seem as thrilled as you might think.

This is the main difference between my book and other dog books. My book is happy. It starts sad, but it ends happy. I am beginning to think happy is not the way to go...afterall, this Bruce Cameron dude is a NY Times bestseller. Heart wrenching sad sells. And sex. That's not in my book either. And deviant behavior...sickness works well with the reading public too. Sick, Sex and Sad are the winning literary combination.

And I don't get that, because in my opinion, there is enough sadness already stitched into every fiber of real life. Why escape to a fictional world that makes sobs heave like vomit from my soul?

ON the happier side of the day, a friend dropped off a synopsis of a true story that an acquaintance of hers wanted turned into a book. The writer didn't feel she had the skill to tell the story in book form, and was seeking a possible ghost writer. I agreed to read it with that in mind. It was a sad story that ended happily, and miraculously. The writer had me engrossed in her story with just her summary.

"This is not a story I could write," I told her, "There are too many details that it would take too much time for me to try to draw out. For a true story to come alive, you need to hear what the people actually said, feel the emotions you felt, hear the background noises, smell the scents....This is a story you need to write, and one you have all the tools to write. Just expand what you put in the summary. I will help you when you are ready to publish."

So many stories there are! Each of us has a story, and given the right twist, they are all of inestimable worth and interest. And nearly every culture has tried in some way, to put their story in a form that future people could read. Even the pictographs on the caves of  ancient men told the story of their life. What is it that makes us want to preserve in story what we have experienced?

God obviously felt the same need. He spent thousands of years employing ghost writers to tell His story, to compile His book. And the ghost authors were, by and large, just regular people. They were just like you and me. There was the occasional  oddball who was a king with 500 horses and 2,000 wives and huge palaces, but most of the authors were just like you, just like me. God's book, like most bestsellers, does have that literary magic three, sickness, sex, and sad... but like my book, He gives us a happy ending. In the end, He heals the sick, sanctifies sex in its proper confines, and dries every tear from our eye. He doesn't leave us sobbing with guilt, but comforts us with redemption.

So why did He use ghost writers? Why didn't He tell His true story Himself, carving it on the very earth He placed us on or searing it into the sun? I don't know for sure, but this is my humble guess. God wanted ordinary people to experience His extraordinary tale, and tell it in a way that the most simple of us could relate, could understand. And in each case, the ghost writer told his corner of the tale that he himself had lived. The story was about God, but the writer told of his encounter with God, in his own words.

As I closed The Dog's Purpose, and settled my head against my soggy pillow, I thought about my purpose. Of course, that is probably what Bruce Cameron was, in the end, hoping I would do. And I thought my purpose is to live my story in such a way that it brings comfort and joy to those around me and glory to my creator. In a way, it is not unlike what my dogs sleeping at me feet, desire. Usually they do it better than me, but by God's grace, I am giving it my best shot.

Exodus 9:16
¹⁶ But I have raised you up for this very purpose, that I might show you my power and that my name might be proclaimed in all the earth.

Hope of Things Unseen

As my senior friends walked out of the Senior Home, I held up a proof of my book.
"What's this?" asked Comer.
He looked at the cover, and saw the picture of my dog, Honeybun, and then the author's name at the bottom.
"Why, this is by you!" he said, "Well my goodness!"

After I helped him in the car, he handed the book to Evelyn. She smiled as she turned the pages. I am not sure she got the full significance, but even through the limitations imposed by Alzheimers, I think she understood it was important to me.
As we drove off to "the world's finest BBQ", I glanced in my rear view mirror. Comer had removed his glasses and was already reading my book.

"I have another surprise for you," I said, turning on the new Engelbert Humperdinck tape Asherel and I had found.  These were some of his less well known songs, and even Evelyn only sang along with one or two. But Comer seemed to want to talk, even more than listen to his favorite singer.

"Did I tell you I sang on the radio once?" he asked.
He had mentioned it before. It must have been a very precious memory.
"How did that happen?" I asked.
"Well, I knew the general manager, and he asked me if I'd like to. I sang Blue Moon."
"Oh that's a good one! How did you do? Did you get lots of good reviews?"
"Quite a few people called to congratulate me. In those days there weren't many radio stations, and so I was heard all across Alabama."
"Wow! You sang to Alabama!"
 Comer fell silent and I saw him looking at my book again.

We ate  a glorious lunch of "the world's best BBQ" while  parked on the shore of Lake Wylie. BBQ dripped from our fingers as we  listened to Engelbert Humperdinck, and watched the water tickle the blue sky. As we returned to the Home, Comer said, "You know, I wrote lots of poetry."
"I didn't know that," I said, "Do you still have them?"
"Oh yes, and some short stories too."
"I'd love to see them," I said, "Can you bring them to me next time?"
"I sure can!" he said happily, "I once thought I was a pretty good writer."
"Would you like me to publish them for you...now that I know how? Put them in a book just like mine?"
"Oh that would be grand!" he said, "Can you really do that? They are just written by hand....but they're legible."
"Sure! I can type them up for you and we will get you published. Maybe you will be famous!"
He unbuckled his seat belt with a smile, clutching my book to his side.

"This has been a wonderful day," he said, as he and Evelyn walked onto the little sidewalk, "It always is, but this was particularly nice."

I wondered why this day had loomed so large in his estimation. Really, on our weekly outings, we always get nice food, we often listen to music, we often reminisce,and this time we had not even talked much at all. We had just watched the lake lap at the shore, and he had held my book. But I realized that the memories of his singing on the radio, and the poetry he had written must have held particular meaning for him. Was this 93 year old man joyful today because there was the potential of a long held dream maybe coming true? I don't suppose anyone writes with the intention of it being hidden. There are thoughts that tumble unseen in our heads for that. Was he still eager to leave a mark, some sort of tangible imprint that said, "I was here and I mattered?"  I knew I would have to transcribe and publish that book of poetry soon. Time was rushing by my old friend.

I had been surprised that a 93 year old man would care about such a thing. I guess I thought by that age, dreams had all died. But as I pondered how God had arranged the universe, it struck me that some of the greatest hopes in life are of things unseen, and as yet, unrealized. The hope of something better, something greater, something more perfect, something eternal. I guess that until Jesus calls us home, we are all hoping that what we don't yet see, will one day be.......

Hebrews 11:
¹ Now faith is confidence in what we hope for and assurance about what we do not see. ² This is what the ancients were commended for.

Dogfood in a home without a dog

"We saw this great sale on dogfood and bought three bags," the lady said as she handed them to me.
"Do you have a dog?" I asked looking around the house.
"No. But we thought of Hollow Creek Farm and the good work they do. We thought it might help them and we noticed you didn't do a dog food drive like you usually do around this time of year."
"Yeh, I was busy marrying off my son. But Hollow Creek Farm really appreciates this. It is very kind of you."

It wasn't til later, as I was considering that kind older couple's donation that I thought how odd it was that they didn't even have a dog, but noticed the sale on dog food, and bought 3 huge bags for a rescue farm they had never even seen.

Asherel and I had spent the day finishing off the set-up for my book cover. Now that we had a better idea of what is involved after the less than happy day before preparing the pdf file of the book contents, we sailed through the cover construction. That only took us about three hours. Then I got to the last button on my computer screen on our easy book publishing check list.This was not just an e-book, wonderful as it was for me to publish even that. This was a bone fide real physical book, that people could find in any bookstore and spill coffee on.  All I had to hit was "submit".

There is a lot of connotation packed into that one little 6 letter word. It is a much maligned word, raising images of cringing peasants crumpled under cruel landowner's whips. Dictatorial husbands love to quote that verse in the Bible about how wives are to submit to their husbands, and thus required to accede to whatever cockamamie opinion the husband holds whether the wife holds it or not. That word evokes fear of subjugating everything we are to an authority we sometimes don't even know.

I stood poised with my finger over the button, trembling.

If I submit this book and someone sees himself in it and doesn't like the portrayal...will he sue me? Like my son? If I submit this book and the publisher decides it is not worthy and sends it back after the review, will I be able to handle rejection....again? Particularly from a publishing venue that accepts everything as long as it is formatted correctly? If I submit this book and only 2 people buy it, my mom and me, will I ever dare pursue a dream again?

"Should I submit now?" I asked Asherel.
She raised an eyebrow, and looked at me, cocking her head.  The gesture spoke for her: why do you think we just spent two full days sweating over this very specific formatting and coming close to blows if not to this end?

"Let's say a prayer first," I said.
And so we bowed our heads and asked God to take this book where it needed to go, to melt the hearts of the people who ought to read it, and to be a blessing in the hands of those who maybe needed the encouragement of my story to never give up, never give in to despair, never lose hope. Or that's what I meant to pray anyway. In actuality I think I said, "If it be your will, let this book pass the review."
I poised my finger again over the submit button.

And here is the big part of submission that those who try to force submission don't seem to understand. Submission is voluntary. If you force submission, it is not submission. It is slavery. Thesaurus.com defines submit with terms like: accede, acquiesce, yield, surrender......
And the Bible goes a step further. While it does indeed say wives are to submit to their husbands, that is only part of the section. It is preceded by the critical verse- Submit to one another out of reverence for Christ. (Ephesians 5:21). Why is that one so often ignored in the whole Christian submission debate? Just think how wonderful the world would be if every action were dictated by that verse? To submit one to another, one would have to know the other's desires, and one would have to want to please the other, and one would have to understand that by so doing, one was revering Christ Himself! How could anyone object to such a selfless and gentle spirit with which to tackle life? What if everyone thought so givingly of each other that they would buy dogfood for others when they themselves don't even own a dog?

I hit the button that said, "Submit" and watched as my book lifted off magically to its destiny.

As I finished writing this post, I got an email. My book has been accepted and is ready for proofing and publishing.

Job 22:
²¹ “Submit to God and be at peace with him;
   in this way prosperity will come to you.
²² Accept instruction from his mouth
   and lay up his words in your heart.