Tipsoo Lake, Washington state, in the Wenatchee National Forest, gazing at Mt. Rainier.
Ah, Lord, such impeccable beauty you left to sustain us in this fallen world. Thank you for all of it. In the Name of Jesus, Amen.
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In the rubble, sorrows, death, decay, we will never forget the atrocities committed that day against the One Nation Under God. God reigns. Jesus Saves. The Holy Spirit seeks. Still.
Colossians 2:8 See to it that no one takes you captive through hollow and deceptive philosophy, which depends on human tradition and the basic principles of this world rather than on Christ.
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Remember this one? Many of you won't. It was unique.
Father, it was a time of sometimes overwrought symbolism, but you know that. Thank you for all that you give to us in the creative process. Apart from you we can do nothing. In the Name of Jesus, Amen.
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Don't Let Go by Harlan Coben is my first go-round with this prolific bestselling author.
Don't Let Go has that noir feel to it. Detective "Nap" (Napoleon) Dumas' first love (Maura) disappeared into thin air on the same night a brutal death occurs to his twin brother Leo and his girlfriend Diana, the daughter of a police captain (Augie) who winds up as Nap's mentor and close friend. Fifteen long years ago. Nap's never forgotten Maura or stopped wondering where she could've gone.
When the shooting death of a police officer pulling over a driver for a DUI reveals familiar fingerprints in the vehicle driven by the missing shooter, Nap is shaken and hopeful all at once.
Is the now abandoned missile site and then a supposed USDA site in their New Jersey town up in the woods the source of all the mystery surrounding Leo's and Diana's deaths and Maura's disappearance so many years ago? Does it all tie in somehow to the recent death of the officer, a mutual high school friend of Nap's and the others? Are there more deaths to follow of members of a secret club Nap knew nothing about?
Harlan Coben tells this tale in Nap's first person account, including emotional discussions with his deceased brother, throughout his incessant investigation of how all the crazy events – past and present – are starting to fit together. He revives Augie's pain, but it's a necessary venture even though Augie encourages him to let it go. When things get ugly, lies surface, friends let him down, the FBI shows up, and other events shock his soul, Nap, in his dogged search for truth, discovers how ugly and freeing truth can be.
A fascinating story and thought the noir touch was just right, the heartbreak palpable, and the conclusion satisfying. There is a minimal amount of profanity for a secular novel.
Father, you give the gifts and talents. May those who hone them, use them, and reap the rewards from them, know from whom they come. Thank you for your gifts to Harlan. In the Name of Jesus, Amen.
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. . . Since they did not know the righteousness that comes from God and sought to establish their own, they did not submit to God's righteousness.
Romans 10:3 (NIV)
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Five of my favorite movies (in no particular order):
Pirates of the Caribbean: Curse of the Black Pearl
Benny and Joon
What's Eating Gilbert Grape?
The Tourist (remake)
Skyfall
Thank you, Lord, for all the creative gifts you give. May each one using those gifts realize from whom they came. In the Name of Jesus, Amen.
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(From my novel Breath of Life, Chapter Four)
If there was any way in the world these events could be avoided, Shaylen Price, aka Cabin LuCaine, would not be at them. She’d tried on innumerable occasions to avoid them and had succeeded earlier in her career. Her agent saw the added benefit of keeping her identity as much of a mystery as the stories she told in her novels, but as the books increased in sales and her fan base exploded to include the 20-somethings of both sexes all the way up through the 70-somethings, exposure was requested by the publishers and then more or less demanded by their marketing departments. Shay had to comply.
She went back to her desk and stuffed a copy of the new book to be previewed today into her black leather handbag, also newly acquired from David’s. Then she sat down and began to lace up the boots. Knowing she was near shaking from the nervous anticipation, she slid open her middle desk drawer and pulled out a Winston cigarette from a nearly full pack and her tiny lighter. Unlike Lonnie, she thought, she smoked on the rare occasions when she was incredibly nervous and wanted to attain the relaxation that had come so easily with him. Remembering it helped her in a small way—his gentle strength, manliness—a protection so ethereal she’d never experienced anything like it . . . like him. She guessed it was that refuge she felt with him which had allowed her to really hear his explanation of a Savior and the need for being “saved”.
A tear made its way out of the corner of her eye. “I can’t do this now,” she whispered, and she carefully pressed the tear away.
I couldn’t believe it at first, and I immediately slowed my pace, sliding nonchalantly over to the inside track of the sidewalk. She didn’t have a purse with her, so just maybe she was coming out for a smoke. God, I wish you were real and could help me with this. I couldn’t believe I’d actually resorted to a prayer of sorts. That’s how desperate I must’ve felt.
Wow, look at those boots. Man! The woman is just gorgeous. She stopped and leaned against the structure, bending her left knee slightly and letting her slender body rest its weight against what had to be a grateful wall. I briefly thought I wish it was me she was leaning against. Then she slowly brought out her cigarette, not a pack but a single smoke, and lit it with what appeared to be a very small lighter that was slipped back into a pocket of an unbuttoned black coat that probably came to her mid calf.
She actually closed her eyes after inhaling and slowly blew out the smoke which was whisked away by a breezy gust. I was quickly approaching her, and I couldn’t believe the heart rate I was experiencing. Come on! I had to do something, didn’t I?!
She happened to open her eyes and see mine upon hers at a cataclysmic moment.
“Morning,” I said with confidence I must’ve acquired from an invisible God. A brief almost smile greeted my greeting.
“Hard to believe it’s supposed to be warm today,” I added, slowing my pace a bit and stopping just past her.
She looked out from her post as if trying to assess the weather.
“Yes,” she said, so softly I was hoping she’d said anything at all, and a small smile graced her pretty lips, some sort of almost brown glistening, making them look oh so inviting.
“Uh, have a good day, alright?” the words intended to be real and looking directly at her.
She nodded, her smile staying put. I turned from facing her and started to walk away.
“Thank you,” she said only modestly louder than her previous acknowledgement.
Turning back to her, I gave her my best smile and said, “You’re welcome.” Then I proceeded on to Tully’s with my heart pounding and feeling like it had when I first asked Linda Sutterman to slow dance after the football game in 10th grade, and she accepted. I got a table in Tully’s where I could see her, but she wouldn’t be able to see me—not that she even cared to watch where I might’ve gone. But it wouldn’t do for her to discover how much pleasure I took in watching her smoke, in caressing the lovely vision of her with my eyes, and now to have actually spoken to her. No, she had no idea how much she meant to my world right now. And how much I hoped it wasn’t just for right now.
Carmen Roth came into the shop and after purchasing her convoluted coffee order came to share my table and blocked my view of the woman I’d come to cherish in some ridiculous small way. So I had to talk business with Carmen and when I managed to glance around her as she bent down to retrieve something from her purse, the beautiful creature was gone, and I realized how empty I felt to see that stark white brick wall insignificant without her and reminding me that in a way she was still like a mirage to me—or maybe more like an oasis.
And the bonus was, I realized afterward, there was no wedding ring on that left hand.
Father, thank you for every word, every story, every character, every inspiration. Apart from you, I can do nothing. In the Name of Jesus, Amen.
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More of the beauty and beast of God's design. Exquisite beauty and challenging wrath.
God, you are all powerful, always good, just, supernatural. Wisdom begins with the fear of the Lord. In the Name of Jesus, Amen.
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Ahhh, one of their best. The Moody Blues.
Father, beauty comes in so many forms. Thank you for all of it. In the Name of Jesus, Amen.
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Author Stacy Monson has written a gem of a family drama story – is it Women's Fiction? – I don't know. When Mountains Sing captures the outdoors with near perfect detail, reminding the reader of the smell of pine and detailing the incredible beauty of the mountains.
Mikayla Gordon is an outdoor photo-journalist working for a magazine, respected by her boss, and pointing toward a career. After presenting a proposal that would center on women and the outdoor experience, she faces an unexpected health crisis that shortly afterward is resolved. Except it isn't, not even a little bit in the big picture. The real crisis comes in a shocking revelation concerning her family history, and it's more than she can take. Her idyllic family perception leaves her no room to tolerate the personal trauma the knowledge presents.
Her twin sister's wedding is coming soon and she's promised to do her part in helping plan it and to be a bridesmaid in it, but now the planning part will have to be done long distance because Mikayla's leaving Minnesota with a fierce anger and a close to irrational determination to spread the shock around.
When this journey takes her to the Colorado Rockies, she meets people who might be able to help her find the information she needs. While she waits for the return of a man who could have the answers to her questions, she has the wonderful chance to work at a youth adventure camp for a great guy, leading kids on mountain trails and teaching them how to truly camp and to appreciate the magnificent beauty of the outdoors.
Enclosed in the tangled web of pursuing answers she wonders if she'll ever find, she discovers who she really is and ultimately what she really needs and eventually what she really wants. This is where the faith element intervenes.
This is a well-written novel with a good story. If I had to fault it, I would say Mikayla drove me nuts. Her over-the-top reaction smacked of immaturity and arrogance, and it didn't sit well with me. Am I being too hard on her? Perhaps, but that was my reaction to her. Dawson, the youth camp owner/instructor is a good character, one who easily gains the attention and respect of the reader. Again, Mikayla is over-sensitive about her abilities, resentful when others assume because she's female, she might have less experience. Since she sometimes reminds me too much of the feminist model with her attitude, I had a hard time with her most of the way through the story. She recovers nicely at the end.
When Mountains Sing is Contemporary Christian Fiction with traits of Women's Fiction and/or Family Drama. Therefore, not my favorite genre(s) but well done.
Father, you've blessed Stacy with all the tools and gifts. Keep the supply coming for those stories you have just for her to write. Please continue to bless her in your abundance and keep her safe. In the Name of Jesus, Amen.
