Globequake

August 17th, 2012

It is time for a FIRST Wild Card Tour book review! If you wish to join the FIRST blog alliance, just click the button. We are a group of reviewers who tour Christian books. A Wild Card post includes a brief bio of the author and a full chapter from each book toured. The reason it is called a FIRST Wild Card Tour is that you never know if the book will be fiction, non~fiction, for young, or for old…or for somewhere in between! Enjoy your free peek into the book!

You never know when I might play a wild card on you!

Today’s Wild Card author is:

 

Wallace Henley

 

and the book:

 

Globequake
Thomas Nelson (July 10, 2012)
***Special thanks to Rick Roberson of The B&B Media Group, Inc. for sending me a review copy.***

 

ABOUT THE AUTHOR:

 

Award winning journalist and former White House aide during the Nixon administration, Wallace Henleyhas traveled the world as a speaker and writer, authored more than a dozen books, served as a congressional chief of staff and leadership consultant, and has worked in over 20 countries, all the while gaining a keener grasp of scripture and a deeper understanding of human nature. Today, as he has for the past 11 years, Henley serves as pastor in the 59,000-member Second Baptist Church of Houston, led by Ed Young. He is also a regular columnist for Christian Post. When not traveling, he and his wife of over 50 years, Irene, divide their time between their home in the Houston area and their small ranch outside of Brenham. The couple has a grown son and daughter and eight grandchildren.

Visit the author’s website.

SHORT BOOK DESCRIPTION:

 

2011 was a year of disturbance. Tunisia erupted in violence in January, after a street vendor set himself on fire, and unrest spread across the Middle East in a wave of toppled dictators and violent revolutionaries. March saw tsunamis sweep across Japan, leaving a nation teetering on the edge of nuclear catastrophe. Rioters stormed through the streets of London in August, burning cars and looting stores. Vicious partisan attacks left the American government deadlocked as unemployment stayed high, families desperately tried to find work, and disillusioned protestors occupied public parks from New York to Oakland.

The very underpinnings of the world, the tectonic plates of existence, seem to be shifting and sliding under the feet of every person, and in this time of crisis, author Wallace Henley provides a blueprint for surviving the changes in his new book Globequake: Living in the Unshakeable Kingdom While the World Falls Apart. Henley argues that we are seeing a shift taking place in what he calls the “six core spheres of society” – Person, Church, Family, Education, Government, and Business. In Globequake, he extensively and exhaustively details the transformations crossing all parts of daily life, but the book is more than a list of the changes in the world, it is ultimately a focus on the change that people can have in their hearts.

Product Details:

List Price: $16.99

Paperback: 288 pages

Publisher: Thomas Nelson

Language: English

ISBN-10: 1595555013

ISBN-13: 978-1595555014

ISLAND BREEZES

This is a very well researched book.  This makes it an even more valuable book.

While the globe is shaking up around us, we can learn more about the reality of the unshakeable kingdom.  We can and must put it to work in our everyday lives, and expand the message within our spheres.

We need to follow the advice of an old song.  “Turn your eyes upon Jesus.”  Look to the Lord and remember who’s in charge.

Mr. Henley teaches that we need to utilize the four elements of a solid strategic plan to anchor ourselves while enduring the turbulence of the Globequake.

Let Mr. Henley help you survive all this shaking.  He knows what he’s talking about.

 
AND NOW…THE FIRST CHAPTER:


–>

 

Chapter 1—The Globequake and the ‘New
Normal’
The shaking is here to stay
“Our political leaders are lying to us. All commodities are
skyrocketing, and have been for months. It’s not just oil, but metals for
manufacturing, labor costs, and everything else necessary to do business. It’s
beginning to kill us, and there must be major redefinition!”
The words erupted suddenly from the executive, like magma
building for centuries in the throat of a volcano. I could feel the throbbing
anxiety in the usually solid business leader. I knew he had survived—even
thrived—through several upheavals in his long career. But somehow it was
different this time.
As a pastor I had heard the desperation and fear on the
voices of many people in all stages and spheres of life as they sought comfort
and hope. I’ve been listening to people pour out their heartbreak and worries
for 40 years, but, as in the case of the businessman, the tension has reached a
new pitch.
Emotionally, multitudes now are like people in a scene
caught by a camera as an earthquake of record-breaking proportions struck a
Japanese city in early 2011. Men and women working in a skyscraper were filmed
dashing out of the tall building. They had to dodge the steel and stone
crashing down from the swaying highrise. Their heads pivoted and eyes looked
desperately as they wondered: Is there safety anywhere?
It appears people everywhere seek security midst the
instability of a world gone wild. Our planet is in a state of upheaval, blasted
with worldwide turbulence.
It’s a “Globequake.”
Individuals across the globe sense something big is shaping.
Is it global collapse? Fiery wars along the civilizational “fault lines” Samuel
Huntington wrote about in the 1990s? Worldwide depression? Mass starvation?
Ecological chaos? The end of the world?
People everywhere are asking,
• What’s
going on?
• What can I
do?
Down deep in all this roiling turbulence people are trying
to go about their lives, maintain solid marriages, raise and educate their
children, and do their jobs.
All they know is gut-anxiety.
It’s as if the tectonic plates of society and culture are
being torn apart and reshaped right under our feet. “The social threat to the
American way of life” is “dire,” writes Rich Lowry. Voices in many nations around the world would
say the same for their societies.
Good news
The good news is that behind the gut-wrenching uncertainties
about the future are wonderful, strong certainties, given by the Lord of
history Himself. In this book we will
discover answers to the troubling questions through solid biblical truth that
can be applied to bring stability to us and our institutions. What you will
read here unites orthodoxy (right belief) with orthopraxy (right practice)
based on foundational truth on which people can ground their lives when the
continents are shifting at what seems light-speed.
In the Globequake turmoil we can either react with negative
indignation, or we can proact with positive insights. In the pages ahead you
will discover the positive, exciting, stabilizing truths and principles that
provide the insights by which people can be safe, sane, and stable midst
worldwide upheaval, and be inspired with hope.
We are living through the spiritual, social, moral,
philosophical, economic, political, and personal equivalent of the ancient
geological tectonic shifts that brought upheaval and reshaping of vast
landmasses. Like those redefining physical movements, what we are experiencing
now is worldwide. Unlike the tectonic shifts of antiquity, in which the drift
was inches a century, the changes rumbling throughout our “worlds” seem to be
zipping at miles a second, with us riding on top!
The Psalmist posed the question in the hearts and on the
lips of multitudes today:
If
the foundations are destroyed,
What
can the righteous do?”
(Psalm
11:3)
Spinning down the ‘ringing grooves of
change’
Change, by definition, is initially a departure from a
normative condition. After awhile the new situation becomes the norm, until
change sweeps it away and drops something else in its place. However, under the
Globequake conditions in which we now live, rapid change and the upheavals it
produces is the “new normal.” Tennyson wrote, “Let the great world spin forever
down the ringing grooves of change.” It appears he got his wish.
“The more things change the more they stay the same,” said
19th century French writer Jean-Baptiste Alphonse Karr. However, the aphorism
has been turned on its head in the Globequake age, and now says, “The more
things stay the same the more they change.” Victor David Hanson writes, “the
natural order of the world is chaos, not calm.”
Will Durant, writing in a more optimistic age, thought humans could
dominate chaos by “mind and purpose.”
But far from dominating chaos, humanity seems to be falling into “a
systemic rise in worldwide unrest,” writes Peter Apps, “political risk
correspondent” for Reuters, the international news agency.
It’s not just geopolitical systems trembling all the way to
their foundations, but everything around us. The face of the world is being
reshaped before our eyes, with new power centers emerging like islands suddenly
leaping from the sea-bottom, thrust upward by volcanic fury. “We are in the
midst of a phase of history in which nations will be redefined and their
futures fundamentally altered,” said media mogul Rupert Murdoch, in an internal
memorandum to his staff.
In my lifetime I have seen America and the West move through
three eras:
• The Atlas
Era, when the Western Alliance seemed to hold the world on its shoulders,
leading the resistance to Nazi, and then Communist threats to global freedom
• The Bacchus
Era, when, under the priesthood of people like Hugh Hefner and Timothy Leary,
cultural elites, weary from shouldering the world, let themselves go, did their
own thing, and retreated into the body and its cravings, taking masses with
them
• The
Narcissus Era, in which every wrinkle is a crevasse begging for cosmetic
surgery, where every emotional flitter is a tornadic psychic upheaval, and
every Twittered and Facebook-inscribed self-narrative is epic literature.
Under the Globequake, Western civilization has been
dislodged from strong biblical moorings, and shifted into nominal Christianity,
then to the minimizing of Judeo-Christian influence, then to anti-biblical
materialism, then into vague “spirituality” that tries to find anchorage in the
sandy bottom of ancient paganism, and at last into a spiritual void Islam and a
host of other religious and philosophical systems are eager to fill. The
Western nations have fallen into the deep rifts of existentialism (“the only
meaning is in the experience of the ‘now’”), nihilism (“there is no purpose or
meaning in anything”), and hedonism (“since there’s no purpose or meaning in
anything, make life one vast party, then die”).
We have arrived at the stage of history Peter Drucker must
have had in mind when he wrote on the eve of the 21st century,
“Everybody has accepted by now that change is unavoidable.
But that still implies that change is like death and taxes — it should be
postponed as long as possible and no change would be vastly preferable. But in
a period of upheaval, such as the one we are living in, change is the
norm.”
What makes the upheavals of our time different from the
tremors and redefinitions of other eras? Can we really claim the contemporary
turbulence is any more intense than that of any other? We will explore these
questions in detail in chapters to come. However, here are three ways in which
the upheavals we now experience differ from those of other historic ages.
Scope
For centuries, people have been talking about “changing the
world.” In previous eras, the “world” they dreamed of changing was at best
regional in scope. Hannibal could conquer only that small bit of the planet he
could cover with his elephants. Genghis Khan may have fancied himself a
world-conqueror, but vast numbers of people living in his age were beyond the
reach of his sword. Now, for the first time in history, it’s possible to impact
the whole world with change, which, in the Globequake era, is becoming viral
and universal.
The alterations of the Globequake age are making borders
irrelevant. In previous periods, attacking armies could be blocked at well-defended
boundaries between nations, but electronic invasions render normal lines of
defense useless and even meaningless. Regimes that don’t want their societies
to participate in the change can only try to block powerful marauders like
Google, Facebook, Twitter, and other information systems, but they cannot
prevent the leakage of news and opinion into their societies, and the changes
that inevitably occur.
Many have assumed the Internet would open closed nations to
democracy. But there’s just as much concern authoritarian regimes are learning
to use the Web to manipulate their populations through such strategies as
propaganda-spreading blogs, and to spy on opposition groups. The scope of
change in today’s world can be as ominous as it is promising. Powerful groups
and individuals can spin the currents of change toward their own interests, and
they can do it worldwide—for the first time in history.
Some even see a future in which computers become so dominant
they take over the world. Professor Stephen Hawking has called for genetic
engineering to develop human intelligence to outpace the growth of computer
intelligence. “In contrast with our intellect, computers double their
performance every 18 months,” he told Focus, a German magazine. “So the danger
is real they could develop intelligence and take over the world.”
Bill Joy, co-founder of Sun Microsystems, expressed a
similar concern about the scope of change possibly looming for the world’s
future. By 2030, he says, engineers may be building machines a million times
more powerful than today’s computers. “I may be working to create tools which
will enable the construction of the technology that may replace our species,”
worries Joy.
The scope of the new normal of change is not merely
electronic. In the industrialized nations especially, there is scarcely any
institution not impacted by what has become a continuum of change. Revered
establishments that have preserved and propagated belief and value systems have
toppled into the rifts opened by the Globequakes.
The scope is so broad it seems no one can escape the changes
hurtling toward us in the Globequake age. Just about the time we adjust to one
set of transitions, we are assaulted with more changes zipping at us faster
than we can assimilate them.
Velocity
The accumulation of information is the fastest increasing
quantity in the world. Researchers at
the University of California—Berkeley, examined the “total production of all
information channels in the world for two different years, 2000 and 2003.” In 2000, the total production of new
information in a 12-month period amounted to 37,000 times the information
housed in the Library of Congress. By 2003, the accumulation of information was
growing by 66 percent per year. The total amount of scientific knowledge has
been doubling every 15 years since 1900.
Information alters existing realities, and also creates new
phenomena. The velocity of information therefore accelerates change. The
Industrial Age shows there are certain periods of megaleaps, when technologies,
systems, and processes morph seemingly overnight into radically new forms. An
18th century balloon and the Wright Brothers’ airplane shared the goal of
enabling humans to fly, but the plane was a leap into a new category.
Information is a primary catalyst of change. No previous
historic period has experienced the velocity of the increase of information;
therefore, the contemporary period is unique—up to this point of history. This
is why Globequake-level change is the new normal.
What about the future? Clearly, if the velocity builds with
its own momentum, the eras ahead will be marked by even more radical change.
This raises a question of apocalyptic proportions: At what point does the
velocity overwhelm the “vehicle”? An airplane, for example, has a maximum
speed. Go beyond that and structural failure occurs. Systems break down.
Already, as the Berkeley study found, “the information about and from a process
will grow faster than the process itself… and so as we progress, information
will grow faster than whatever else is being produced.”
How will we contain it all? Followers of John the Baptist
asked Jesus one day, “Why do we and the Pharisees fast, but Your disciples
do not fast?” (Matthew 9:14 ) Jesus’ answer is as relevant today as 20
centuries ago:
“… no one puts a patch of unshrunk cloth on an old garment;
for the patch pulls away from the garment, and a worse tear results. Nor do people put new wine into old
wineskins; otherwise the wineskins burst, and the wine pours out and the
wineskins are ruined; but they put new wine into fresh wineskins, and both are
preserved.” (Matthew 9:16-17)
The Gospel proclaimed by Jesus was truth so dynamic, so
vibrant with life new structures were needed to convey it across society and
history. The cry of the present Globequake age is for new “wineskins,” new
structures that can cope with the information coming at lightspeed—literally.
Sadly, having rejected the way of Jesus, the old religion of humanism can’t
handle the flood either, and its leaders work their fingers raw trying to piece
together new structures.
As we will see in the chapters ahead, once again the truth
about Jesus and His Kingdom is the “new wine” that will bring strength and
vitality to the world in upheaval. The structures of society must be renewed—they
must become “new wineskins”—to receive the powerful principles that give them
enduring calm and stability as they are being squeezed and torn by the
Globequake. As the velocity of information builds, the accumulation of energy
begins to impact the face of entire civilizations. Hardly any institution
escapes the resulting magnitude of change.
Magnitude
The ancient tectonic plate movements in earth’s geology and
geography were immense in magnitude, altering the face of the whole planet. The
changes now underway in the spiritual, social, political, economic, ethical,
and philosophical “continents” of the world are just as huge. The upheaval that
is the new norm in the present is redrawing the face of the world!
According to tectonic shift theory, in the earth’s early
history there was one vast supercontinent, Pangea. Upheavals deep in the planet
caused the plates on which the landmass rested to split, dividing massive
chunks from one another, and setting them adrift on the planet’s surface.
In a sense, this is what is happening to the spiritual,
intellectual, and socio-political systems of the world. There was once
consensus holding whole civilizations together. For example, scholars have
noted the similarities between the Ten Commandments and other law codes of
nations surrounding the Hebrews. The Ten Commandments were revealed to Moses by
God Himself, in an act theologians call “special revelation.” However, God’s
“general revelation” is written instinctively in every human being (Romans
2:15), so it’s no surprise there’s a certain consensus among humans regarding
murder, theft, adultery, and other moral issues on a near-global scale.
Globequake forces, however, shatter the consensus. Moral
relativism has devastated Western civilization. There is no longer a firm,
inviolable consensus around a core belief system. When the consensus is
destroyed, the Pangea of human belief and behavior is ripped apart. The world
fragments into the chaos of Israel in the time leading up to the Judges, when
every person “did what was right in his own eyes.” (Judges 17:6)
The fragmentation in the consensus about God has had an
impact of great magnitude on many cultures. Under Globequake conditions, God
has first been pushed off to the sidelines of the public square, and, in the
thought of many elites, shoved out of sight totally.
The magnitude of this act is immense in its destructive
force. G.K. Chesterton wrote, “in the act of destroying the idea of Divine
authority we have largely destroyed the idea of that human authority by which
we do (an arithmetic) sum.” The
destructive forces at the highest levels of magnitude radiate downward, to the
most detailed concerns of life. With the loss of reverence for God comes a loss
of reverence for His creation—beginning with human life. Here the magnitude of
the upheaval reaches truly tragic proportions, resulting, for example, in the
abortion culture, and the deaths of tens of millions of unborn babies.
Three impacts on people
The scope, velocity, and magnitude of the changes wrought by
the Globequake impact us in three major ways.
Insecurity
People have many reasons to feel insecure in the Globequake
age. They worry about their marriages and other relationships, job security,
caring for their aging parents, and their own retirement, as well as a secure
future for their children and grandchildren. On the national and world scale
there’s concern about the availability of oil and other energy resources. Many
worry about the declining quality of leadership in a period when churches, families,
schools, government institutions, and businesses need the best.
And then there’s always the weather. One chunk of the
population fears climate change portends serious injury to the planet’s
ecosystem, which they believe to be fragile. Another hefty demographic worries
those who agonize over global warming and other environmental changes are
laying the framework for more government control of industrial and commercial
development, and the reduction of personal freedoms.
Many people are haunted by vague, unidentifiable anxiety,
manufactured within their own turbulent souls. We have managed to create an
entire culture of insecurity. Both the real and imagined threats of the
Globequake age drive us deeply into ourselves in the effort to fend off the
gremlins of fear and anxiety. The outcome is what we experience presently:
self-absorption resulting in what Harvard sociologist Pitirim Sorokin called
the “sensate” stage of a culture, when feelings and emotions govern. The more
we view the world through the lens of our own emotions, the greater loom the
threats to our security.
Christopher Orlet writes, “an overdose of self-esteem and
self-promoting technology have combined to create a perfect storm of
narcissism.” The more narcissistic we
become the more insecure we are, worrying about the ripples that will destroy
the image we stare at relentlessly in the increasingly troubled waters of our
world. Thus, there is a vicious cycle in which insecurity leads to a passion
for self-preservation, which rushes into self-absorption, which results in more
insecurity.
Under such pressure, the psyche begins to crumble. In the
Globequake age, the heavy lifting of which only the spirit is capable has been
cast upon the flimsy soul. The Greek word translated “soul” in the New
Testament is psuche, from which we get “psyche” and a whole family of terms.
Insecurity is felt most acutely in the soul, where we think and feel
emotionally. If the condition persists, it affects the body with physical
symptoms, and drives people to the drugs and medications characteristic of our
times. The best the weary, overtaxed soul can do is crank out counterfeit
spirituality leading only to more disappointments, uncertainties and desperate
quests for security.
If we live in a state of insecurity long enough, after
awhile we drift into insanity.
Insanity
Insanity is at epidemic proportions. That was the conclusion
of E. Fuller Torrey and Judy Miller in their 2002 book, The Invisible
Plague. From 1955 into the 21st century,
many medications had become available, but the number of people diagnosed with
mental illness had increased six-fold!
It’s not just individuals, but whole nations can also lose
touch with their identity and history. What is the insanity that causes entire
cultures to lose their minds and dive into the spiritual, moral, and
intellectual fissures gouged by the Globequake?
“Identity is an
individual’s or group’s sense of self,” wrote Samuel P. Huntington, in Who Are
We?, a study of contemporary America’s identity crisis. Identity is important, he adds, because it
shapes our behavior. So people who rip apart high values covering them, their
families and nations, suffer from sheer insanity. Their destructive behavior
shows a loss of their own identity.
Insanity is “reason used without root, or reason in the
void,” wrote G.K. Chesterton. “The man
who begins to think without the proper first principles goes mad; he begins to
think at the wrong end.” Cultural, societal, and national insanity occurs when
people destroy their roots and forget their first principles. The Globequake
tears out the root-system and brings down the edifice of first principles.
That’s why whole societies lapse into insanity and lose their stability.
Instability
One day in 1973 the reality of the world’s instability
flamed to searing focus in my mind. I had grown up and spent much of my young
adulthood in a nation where you griped if you had to pay 38-cents for a gallon
of gas. But that morning as I pulled up to a pump, I was stunned when I saw the
price for a gallon of gasoline had rocketed to 58-cents. While I slept
something drastic had been afoot in the world. The tremors then were mild—we
would eagerly pay 58-cents for a gallon of gas today—but they portended greater
instability and upheaval to come.
In a much larger way, the devastating destabilization of the
Globequake is its impact on the foundations on which all strength and order
rest. So, in response to the Psalmist’s rhetorical question: there is much the
righteous can do in the midst of foundations crumbling under Globequake
upheaval. David gives us the foundational principle as, through the inspiration
of the Holy Spirit, he begins answering his own question. The central fact we
must keep in focus when the foundations are quivering beneath us is recorded in
verse 4: “The LORD is in His holy temple; the LORD’S throne is in heaven…” Here is stability and
confidence!
In a later chapter we will explore the unshakeable Kingdom.
Its strength is in the Person enthroned in the “holy temple.” He is immoveable
and unchangeable, not because He doesn’t like change, but because He doesn’t
need it. At the core of all reality, and in the midst of the most catastrophic
upheavals, there is One who is perfect and complete, dwelling in a temple no
magnitude of quake can topple, on a throne from which He cannot be removed by
any force or power.
There are three essential foundations on which the tremors
focus their fury. The first is God Himself, the second is the foundation of
truth, and the third, the foundation of humanity. The absolute and objective
reality of God cannot be destroyed, but self-created human perceptions of God
can be rattled to the very foundations. Since God and truth are inseparable,
ultimate truth cannot be altered, but under intense tremors can be distorted
and confused. Because the human is created in the image of God, the
foundational nature of humanity cannot be obliterated, but it can be twisted.
If these foundations are destroyed in the subjective understanding and
experience of human beings, what can the people do who seek to hold to God’s
holiness and purity midst the turbulence of our age? Plenty, as we will see in
the pages ahead.
‘Things will settle down’
“Things will settle down,” my mother used to tell me. Pearl
Harbor and America’s entry into the world war came two days after my birth in
1941. My childhood was full of the global conflagration and its aftermath. Ten
years later, divorce blitzed our home, and our family experienced personal
upheaval. When I was a teenager and young adult, the headlines were obsessed
with the inevitably of global nuclear war.
Always my mother would say, “Things will settle down.”
She’s been gone a long time, but now I understand why she
remained stable and hopeful, no matter how intense the quakes that rumbled through
her life and world, and how she was able to steady our household.
Mother was the youngest of nine children. She and her
widowed mom were left on a barren farm as my mother’s older siblings went to
the big city to try to find jobs to support themselves, their mother and little
sister. There were times when my mom, at age six, had to milk the neighbor’s
cow so she and her own mother could survive. Later in life, my mom rode out the
heart-rending turbulence of domestic violence and the divorce that destroyed
her 18-year marriage. She was faced with the challenge of raising and educating
my sister and me. But she couldn’t be knocked down. She kept standing, no
matter what. That’s why I believed her when she said things would “settle
down.”
Now I see my mother didn’t mean the tremors would stop. She
knew they were the norm. One of the reasons my mother knew things would “settle
down” was because she was old enough to see a big swath of history. She
believed God was in charge of every moment. She knew “all things work together
for good” for those called by God and set apart for His purposes—even if it
took decades (See Romans 8:28-39). She had an instinctive sense of how time
works, and that formed her understanding of her narrow slice of history and an
individual’s experience within it.
Finally I figured it out. She wasn’t telling me the external
world would “settle down,” because the upheavals were the norm. Rather, my
mother was saying I would “settle down” in the midst of the shaking by
positioning myself on sold biblical truth, just as she had done.
“What can the righteous do?” For one thing, we must examine
and incorporate into our worldview the Bible’s revelation about how time
functions, and allow that truth to shape our perspective about the Globequake.
As my mother demonstrated, you don’t have to be an Albert Einstein or Stephen
Hawking to get it!

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The Haven

August 16th, 2012

The Haven

 

When Sadie Lapp steps off the bus in Stoney Ridge after being in Ohio for the winter, she is faced with a decision-one that goes against her very essence. Yet it’s the only way she can think of to protect a loved one.

Schoolteacher Gideon Smucker has been crazy about Sadie since boyhood. But his response to her surprising decision undermines his own reputation-and his relationship with Sadie.

College student Will Stoltz is spending the spring at the Lapp farm as a guard for a pair of nesting Peregrine Falcons-courtesy of the Lancaster County Game Warden. Will needs to get his life back on track, but his growing friendship with Sadie threatens his plans.

The lives of these three individuals intertwine, and then unravel as unexpected twists create ripples through the town of Stoney Ridge . . . and through Sadie’s heart.

ISLAND BREEZES

I don’t know how I wanted this book to end, but it didn’t end the way I wanted.

Sadie comes home to find her drive and surroundings filled with a whole passel of people.

Two birds spotted on the family’s grounds lead to numerous adventures. The fact that she returned with a tiny baby does not increase the family’s level of serenity either.

Sadie came home to two men in her life – one Amish, one not. There’s more than one love story in this book. Then there’s mystery and dark undercurrents, as well.

This was a good follow-up to The Keeper, but it’s a very good stand alone read. There’s still more stories in the Stoney Ridge Seasons series. I’m looking forward to the next.

***A special thanks to litfuse for providing a review copy.***

Suzanne Woods Fisher is a bestselling author of Amish fiction and non-fiction, the host of a weekly radio program called Amish Wisdom and a columnist for Christian Post. She has twenty-one books under contract with Revell-eight published, thirteen to come…she’s contracted all the way into 2016. The Waiting was a finalist for a 2011 Christy Award. The Choice was finalist for a 2011 Carol Award. Amish Peace: Simple Wisdom for a Complicated World and Amish Proverbs: Words of Wisdom from the Simple Life were both finalists for the ECPA Book of the Year (2010, 2011).

Visit Suzanne on her blog (where this month she’s giving away yummy Godiva chocolate!)

http://suzannewoodsfisher.com

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Angel of the Cove

August 16th, 2012

It is time for a FIRST Wild Card Tour book review! If you wish to join the FIRST blog alliance, just click the button. We are a group of reviewers who tour Christian books. A Wild Card post includes a brief bio of the author and a full chapter from each book toured. The reason it is called a FIRST Wild Card Tour is that you never know if the book will be fiction, non~fiction, for young, or for old…or for somewhere in between! Enjoy your free peek into the book!

You never know when I might play a wild card on you!

Today’s Wild Card author is:

 

Sandra Robbins

 

and the book:

 

Angel of the Cove
Harvest House Publishers (August 1, 2012)

***Special thanks to Ginger Chen of Harvest House Publishers for sending me a review copy.***

ABOUT THE AUTHOR:

 

Sandra Robbins and her husband live in the small college town in Tennessee where she grew up. They count their four children and five grandchildren as the greatest blessings in their lives. Her published books include stories in historical romance and romantic suspense. When not writing or spending time with her family, Sandra enjoys reading, collecting flow blue china, and playing the piano.
Visit the author’s website.

SHORT BOOK DESCRIPTION:

Anna Prentiss wants to be a nurse, but first she has to spend a summer in Cades Cove apprenticing to the local midwife. Anna is determined to prove herself…but she never expected to fall in love with the Cove. Has God’s plan for Anna changed? Or is she just starting to hear Him clearly?

Product Details:

List Price: $13.99

Paperback: 304 pages

Publisher: Harvest House Publishers (August 1, 2012)

Language: English

ISBN-10: 0736948848

ISBN-13: 978-0736948845

ISLAND BREEZES

All the time I was reading this, I was hoping Anna would fall in love with the Cove. It seems she’s in a competition with her brother for who can be the most stubborn. It appears that Anna is going to win. If she does, she loses.

Stubborn to the end in spite of her breaking heart, she won the stubborn contest.

Be sure you have that box of tissues handy. This woman will surely bring tears to your eyes.

 
AND NOW…THE FIRST CHAPTER:

Mountain air was supposed to be cool. At least that’s what she’d always heard.

 

Anna Prentiss couldn’t be sure because she’d never been this far into the mountains before. But if truth be told, they still had a fair piece to go before they reached the hills that rolled off into the distance.

 

The narrow dirt road that led them closer to those hills twisted and bumped its way along. The June heat had dried out the winter mud in this part of Tennessee and produced a dust that threatened to choke her, roiling up and around the buggy. Anna covered her mouth with the lace handkerchief her mother had tucked in her dress pocket and sneezed. The smudge left on the cloth made her wonder what her face must look like.

 

She glanced at Uncle Charles, her father’s brother, who sat beside her on the leather seat of the buggy. Perspiration had cut meandering, dusty trails down his cheeks, but he didn’t appear to notice. His attention was focused on trying to avoid the holes that dotted the road.

 

She wiped at her face once more before stuffing the handkerchief back in her pocket. It really didn’t matter what she looked like. There was no one to see her. The only living creatures she’d seen all day were some white-tailed deer that had run across the road in front of them and a fox that had peered at her from his dusky hiding place beside the road. In front of them trees lined the long roadway that twisted and turned like a lazy snake slithering deeper into the mountain wilderness. She’d come a long way from the farm in Strawberry Plains.

 

A twinge of homesickness washed over her. She closed her eyes and gritted her teeth. The uneasy feeling lingered a moment, but with a determination she’d only recently acquired, she banished thoughts of those she’d left behind to the spot in her heart where her grief lay buried.

 

Just then the buggy hit a hole, and Anna grabbed the seat to keep from bouncing onto the floorboard. Uncle Charles flicked the reins across the horse’s back and glanced at her, his spectacles resting on the bridge of his nose. Wispy gray hair stuck out from underneath a black hat.

 

“Hold on. These roads can be a little rough. We had a hard winter up here.”

 

Anna nodded, straightening herself on the buggy seat and studying her uncle’s profile. How many times had he ridden this way to take care of the mountain people he loved? He looked every bit the country doctor. His smooth hands, so unlike her father’s work-roughened ones, gripped the reins tighter as he grinned at her.

 

The corner of his mouth curled downward when he smiled, just as her father’s had always done. That was the only similarity she’d ever seen in them, though. Uncle Charles used to say he got the brains and Poppa got the brawn. When she was a little girl, she wondered what he meant. But she knew no matter what it implied, the two brothers shared a bond like few she’d ever seen. And they were the only ones who’d ever encouraged her to follow her dream of becoming a nurse.

 

Anna took a deep breath and inhaled the heavy, sweet smell that drifted from the forests on either side of the road. She turned to Uncle Charles. “I’ve been noticing those white flowers that look like shrubs growing along the road. What are they?”

 

“Those are our mountain rhododendron,” said Uncle Charles. “There are also pink and purple ones. Sometimes in the summer you can stand on a ridge and look across the mountains at the rhododendrons blooming, and it looks like somebody took a paintbrush and colored the world. It’s a mighty beautiful sight.”

 

Anna swiveled in her seat again and looked at Uncle Charles. “Thank you for working out this trip for me.”

 

A grin tugged at his mouth. “How many times would you say you’ve thanked me today?”

 

“Not enough yet.”

 

A sudden breeze ruffled the straw hat her mother had given her, and Anna grabbed the wide brim. After a moment she released it and pulled the handkerchief from her pocket again. Grasping it with both hands, she twisted the cloth until it stretched taut between her fingers. “I hope I don’t disappoint Mrs. Lawson.”

 

He didn’t take his eyes off the road but shrugged. “I wouldn’t worry about that. She’s been delivering babies in Cades Cove for a long time, and she’s glad to have an extra pair of hands. It’ll be good experience before you leave for nursing school in the fall.”

 

The old anger rose in Anna’s throat. “Only if Robert agrees.” She spit out the barbed words as if they pierced the inside of her mouth. “Why does he have to be so selfish?” She clenched her fists tight together. Ever since their father’s death Robert had assumed the role as head of the family, and he took his responsibilities seriously. Too seriously, if you asked Anna. He never missed an opportunity to tell her how their father wasn’t around anymore to cater to her every whim. The first time he’d said that she felt as if he’d shattered her heart. The pieces had never mended as far as her relationship with him was concerned. But if things went as planned, she would soon be free of his authority.

 

“I don’t want you to be angry with your brother, Anna. You may not understand his reasons, but he’s trying his best to be the head of your family. He’s still young and has a lot to learn, but he loves you and wants what’s best for you.”

 

Anna crossed her arms and scowled. “All he wants is for me to stay on the farm and marry somebody he thinks will make a good husband.” Anna shook her head. “Well, that’s not what I want. Poppa promised me I’d be able to go. Robert has no right to keep that money hostage.”

 

“I know. Your father would have been so proud to know you’ve been accepted.” Uncle Charles’s shoulders drooped with the sigh that drifted from his mouth. “Try to see it from his perspective. You’ve led a sheltered life on the farm, and Robert feels like you aren’t ready for what you’ll see and have to deal with in a big hospital in New York. You think you’ll be able to assist injured and dying people, but it’s different when you’re right there with somebody’s life in your hands. If you find you can’t do it, then Robert is out the money for your tuition, not to mention travel and living expenses.” He cocked a bushy eyebrow at Anna. “And he doesn’t need to be wasting money that can be put to good use on the farm.”

 

“I know. He’s told me often enough.” Anna smoothed out her skirt and straightened in her seat. “I’m just thankful you came up with a plan that Robert agreed to. Spending the summer with Mrs. Lawson ought to prove I have the grit to handle New York.”

 

“Remember you’ll need a good report from Granny Lawson.”

 

Anna smiled. “You don’t have to worry about that. I’m going to listen to her and do everything she tells me, no matter how distasteful I think the task is.” She clenched her fists in her lap. “When I board that train for New York in the fall, it will all be worth it.”

 

Uncle Charles shook his head and chuckled. “I’ll leave New York and all its hustle and bustle to you. I prefer to spend my time right here in these mountains.”

 

Anna let her gaze rove over the trees on either side of the road. “Still, maybe you’ll come visit me someday. I can show off the maternity ward!”

 

He flicked the reins across the horse’s back. “I’ve read a lot about that ward. First one in the country. You’ll be fortunate to work there. But don’t forget you may see a lot of babies born this summer while you’re at Granny’s cabin. And there’s not a better place in the world to learn about nursing. She can teach you things you would never learn at Bellevue. Listen to her and do what she says and you’ll be fine.”

 

Anna nodded. “I will.” Her hat slipped to the side, and she reached up and straightened it. “I really can’t thank you enough, Uncle Charles. Everything’s coming together just the way I planned it, and nothing—not even Robert—is going to stand in my way.”

 

Uncle Charles sucked in his breath and directed a frown at her. “Nothing? We can only follow the plan God has for us, Anna.”

 

She settled back on the seat and cast her eyes over the hazy hills in front of them. “But that is God’s plan for me.”

 

“And how do you know?”

 

“Because it’s what I’ve dreamed about all my life. God’s never tried to change my mind.”

 

“Maybe you’ve never listened to Him.” Uncle Charles stared at her a moment. “Like I said, pay attention to what Granny says. She’ll teach you how God uses those He’s chosen to take care of the sick. It isn’t all done with medicine, Anna. A lot of my medical successes—and Granny’s as well—have come about after a lot of prayer.”

 

The buggy hit another bump, and Anna bounced straight up. As far as she could see, the rippling Smoky Mountains stretched out toward the horizon. A plume of wispy fog hung over the valleys. A strange world awaited her out there.

 

Mrs. Johnson, the owner of the inn where they’d stayed in Pigeon Forge last night, had taken great pleasure in warning her of what she might face in Cades Cove this summer. Anna clasped her hands in her lap and glanced at Uncle Charles. “Mrs. Johnson said the folks who live in Cades Cove don’t take to strangers.”

 

Uncle Charles nodded. “That doesn’t surprise me. What else did she say?”

 

Anna took a deep breath and brushed at the new layer of dust on her skirt. “Oh, not much. Just that everybody knows it’s a closed society in the Cove, but it doesn’t matter because no sensible person would want to live there anyway. She called the people there a strange lot.”

 

Uncle Charles cocked an eyebrow and chuckled. “Is that right? I hope you didn’t believe her. I know every family in the Cove, and some of them are my good friends.” He hesitated a moment. “Of course you’re going to find some who cause problems—just like you would anywhere else.”

 

“Like the moonshiners?”

 

He turned to stare at her with wide eyes. “What did Mrs. Johnson tell you about moonshiners?”

 

“She said all the men were moonshiners. Are they?”

 

Uncle Charles threw back his head and laughed as if he’d just heard the funniest joke of his life. After a few seconds he shook his head. “Nothing could be further from the truth. There may be a few who give the Cove people a bad reputation, but most of the men work too hard to waste their time on such nonsense.” He reached over and patted her hand. “I wouldn’t leave you in a place where you weren’t safe. Mrs. Johnson may run a good inn, but she’s the worst gossip in these mountains.”

 

Anna heaved a sigh of relief. “I guess I’m just a little nervous. I want everybody to like me.”

 

“They will. Just be yourself and they’ll all love you.”

 

Uncle Charles meant well, but doubt still lingered in her mind. Would the people of the Cove accept a stranger into their small community? And if they didn’t, what good could she possibly do in this place?

 

She had to succeed. Her future depended on it. She squared her shoulders. There was no turning back.

 

As the day wore on, they found themselves deeper in the hills. As they did, a slow awakening began to dawn in the deepest corner of her soul. She’d never seen anything as beautiful as the lush growth that covered the vast mountain range. The air now grew cooler, just as she’d expected it to be, and the sweet smell of mountain laurel mingled with the rhododendrons. As her uncle’s horse, Toby, plodded along the rocky trail that grew steeper with each step, she saw the world through new eyes and stared in awe at the wonders of nature unfolding before her.

 

For the last hour she’d sat silent and watched the shallow river that flowed beside the road. The water bubbled over rocks like huge stepping-stones scattered across its bed, and the rippling sound had a lulling effect. She wished they could stop so she could pull off her shoes and wade in the cold mountain stream, but there was no time for such fun today. She turned her attention back to the steep hillside on the other side of the road.

 

“It’s beautiful here.”

 

Uncle Charles glanced at her. “We’re just about to Wear’s Valley. When we get there, we’ll be close to Cades Cove.”

 

Anna wondered if Uncle Charles was tired of her questions about the Cove. She hoped not. She settled in her seat and said, “Tell me more about Cades Cove, Uncle Charles.”

 

He pushed his hat back on his head and stared straight ahead. “Well, if you’ve noticed, we’ve been following that stream as the road’s climbed. Pretty soon now we’re gonna reach a place where we turn away from it and head into a flat valley right in the middle of the mountains. That’s Cades Cove. It’s almost like God just took His giant hand and tucked a little piece of heaven right down in the Smokies. The land’s fertile—not so many rocks you can’t farm—and completely surrounded by mountains. You’re gonna love it when you see it, Anna.”

 

“How many people live there?”

 

He pursed his lips and squinted into the distance. “I’d say there are about two hundred fifty scattered throughout the Cove nowadays. Some left for town life—better work there, you know—but they’ll never find a place that’s as beautiful as these mountains.”

 

“How far is it from Mrs. Lawson’s house to where you live?”

 

He thought for a moment. “It’s not that far as the crow flies, but it takes me almost three hours going around these roads.”

 

A lump formed in her throat. Now that they were closer, she didn’t want him to leave. She scooted a little closer to him on the bench of the buggy. “Will you stay at Mrs. Lawson’s tonight?”

 

He shook his head. “No, I’ll have enough daylight left to get home. But don’t worry, I’ll come to the Cove from time to time to check on you. Granny does a good job of taking care of the folks there, but she knows when it’s serious enough to send for me.”

 

Anna clasped her hands in her lap to keep him from seeing them tremble. The time had come to begin the test. She couldn’t fail. She squared her shoulders and lifted her chin. She dredged up all the determination she could muster. No, she wouldn’t fail.

 

“How long before we get there, Uncle Charles?”

 

“Not much longer. The entrance is up ahead.”

 

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Healing Love

August 14th, 2012

It is time for a FIRST Wild Card Tour book review! If you wish to join the FIRST blog alliance, just click the button. We are a group of reviewers who tour Christian books. A Wild Card post includes a brief bio of the author and a full chapter from each book toured. The reason it is called a FIRST Wild Card Tour is that you never know if the book will be fiction, non~fiction, for young, or for old…or for somewhere in between! Enjoy your free peek into the book!

You never know when I might play a wild card on you!

Today’s Wild Card author is:

 

Laura V. Hilton

 

and the book:

 

Healing Love, Amish of Webster County Book One
Whitaker House (September 3, 2012)

***Special thanks to Cathy Hickling of Whitaker House for sending me a review copy.***

ABOUT THE AUTHOR:

Laura V. Hilton, of Horseshoe Bend, Arkansas, is a pastor’s wife, mother of five, author LVHilton1210and book lover. She’s got a degree in business but her passion has long been the mission of Christian fiction. Her first series, The Amish of Seymour from Whitaker House (Patchwork Dreams, A Harvest of Hearts, and Promised to Another) earned praise from critics and fans for originality and authenticity, thanks in part to Laura’s Amish grandmother who taught her Amish culture at a young age, and her husband Steve’s family ties to the Amish community in Webster County, Missouri, which has been helpful in her research. Laura is the author of two novels for Treble Heart Books and a contributor to Zondervan’s It’s The Year Life Verse Devotional. She’s a member of ACFW for whom she writes Amish reviews for the magazine, Afictionado, and a long time reviewer for the Christian Suspense Zone. Laura is a

stay-at-home mom, homeschooler, breast cancer survivor and avid blogger who posts reviews at: www.lighthouse-academy.blogspot.com.

Visit the author’s website.

SHORT BOOK DESCRIPTION:

 

Shane Zimmerman, a young veterinarian and widower, is first person on the scene of a serious buggy accident buggy in Webster County, Missouri. He rushes Amish midwife Kristi Lapp, been badly injured in the crash, to the nearest hospital. The two discover they’re next door neighbors and a friendship develops as Shane helps Kristi with her high-energy Siberian husky, Chinook, for whom she can’t properly care because of her leg injuries. Shane hopes to further develop their relationship, but Kristi is leery and discourages him at first — Shane isn’t Amish (although his grandparents were) and Kristi’s father would prefer she marry any aged Amish widower rather than an Englischer – even one with ties to the community who is close to her age. Despite the forces that would keep them apart, the strong attraction Kristi and Shane have for one another grows stronger. As their on-again, off-again relationship persists, Shane must come to grips with his identity and reevaluates why he’s Englisch.

Product Details:

List Price: $10.99

Paperback: 336 pages

Publisher: Whitaker House (September 3, 2012)

Language: English

ISBN-10: 1603745068

ISBN-13: 978-1603745062

ISLAND BREEZES

A midwife in a buggy wreck ended up with a badly fractured leg. It was going to be a long recovery before Kristi could return to her midwifery.

In the mean time she is becoming more and more attracted to the man who found her at the accident scene. He’s her new neighbor who is an Englisch vet.

Because of Kristi’s inability to walk her Siberian husky, Shane offers to take care of that for his neighbor. But there’s also the fact that he’s becoming more attracted to her.

Problems abound. Kristi’s father tries to arrange a marriage to an older Amish widower with children, because no younger Amish man wants a wife with a limp who would have difficulty performing her daily tasks. Shane still has a problem with the death of his wife and unborn child.

Of course, the biggest problem is Amish versus Englisch. Would Kristi be able to leave her faith to marry an outsider?

 

AND NOW…THE FIRST CHAPTER:

 

Chapter 1

 

October

 

Kristi Lapp flicked the reins impatiently. “Kum on, Samson. ‘Slow’ isn’t the only speed you’re capable of, ain’t so?” She needed him to pick up the pace. Silas Troyer had banged on her door earlier to alert her that his frau, Susie, was going into labor, and then he’d raced down the lane in his horse-and-buggy to notify their family members of the imminent birth.

 

Kristi was especially excited about this boppli. Susie had four girls, all of them a year apart, and she’d been expecting to have a boy this time, based on how different it had felt carrying him. Mamms usually sensed these things. And Kristi predicted she was right.

 

Several deer stepped onto the road right in front of Kristi, none of them even glancing her way. Smiling, she pulled the reins slightly to the right to direct Samson away from them, over to the side of the road. A similarly sized herd had meandered its way through her family’s backyard the other day, and she’d always admired the animals for sticking together as they did.

 

She tightened her grip on the reins and gave them another flick, hoping to encourage Samson to move more quickly.

 

As the deer were crossing the center line into the other lane, the powerful roar of an engine broke the serenity of the setting. A red sports car crested the hill up ahead, barreling in Kristi’s direction at a speed she’d never witnessed on this road. She heaved a breath of exasperation. Any idiot would have noticed one of the several signs that read, “Watch for Buggies.” They were impossible to miss, and Kristi had passed four of them in the last mile alone.

 

As the car whizzed toward her, the herd of deer scattered, darting in different directions. The driver swerved sharply into Kristi’s lane to avoid them, and she gasped, frantically trying to steer the buggy over toward the shoulder. A chill ran up her spine at the sight of the steep embankment and deep ditch below.

 

One of the spooked deer pivoted. Made a mad dash straight toward her horse. Samson reared and immediately took off at a run, straight toward the ditch.

 

“Whoa, Samson!” Kristi planted her feet against the front of the buggy and pulled back on the reins with all her might. Leave it to Samson to shift into high gear at the worst time.

 

The car sped past, but Samson wouldn’t slow down. He was heading straight for the side of the road. Panic surged through Kristi, constricting her breath. Should she try to jump out? She dropped the reins and scooted to the edge of the seat.

 

She was too late. The buggy lurched as Samson ran headlong over the embankment. As the vehicle tipped, she was propelled out the side. Hours seemed to pass before her body collided with the ground and pain engulfed her.

 

Teetering on the edge of consciousness, she thought briefly of Susie. How desperately she wanted to be there to assist with the birth of her boppli! Especially considering the problems she’d had with her first delivery…. And then she blacked out.

 

***

 

Shane Zimmerman flipped on his fog lights to illuminate the low-lying clouds, which created interesting shapes and shadows against the dark backdrop of woods lining the rural Missouri highway. He scanned the area for deer ousted from their natural habitats by hunters. Of course, rutting season also brought them out of hiding. Not that he hunted. He did treat many a pet that had been injured accidentally by a hunter, such as the Great Dane boarding at his clinic while she recovered from the surgical removal of an errant bullet.

 

Shane reached inside the console for a CD—the latest release from LordSong—and slid it into the player. As the uplifting music filled the car, he flexed his shoulders in an effort to relieve the tension of the busy day behind him. He looked forward to getting home and kicking back to read his Bible and watch the evening news.

 

As his Jeep crowned the hill, he tapped the brakes at the sight of a wrecked Amish buggy. He scanned the area, but there was no sign of horse or driver. The animal must have been released and carted home. Or put down, if its injuries had been severe enough.

 

Returning his gaze to the highway, he slowed. A young buck lay on the road, still alive yet struggling.

 

Shane pulled his Jeep to the shoulder, put it in park, and clicked on the hazard lights. Leaving the keys in the ignition, he got out, his heart pounding in time with the obnoxious dinging sound of the car. Cautiously, he approached the deer. Its brown eyes fixed on him, wild with fear. The animal lurched to a standing position for a second but quickly collapsed again on the hard pavement, where it remained. Its labored breaths intensified. Whoever had hit it had driven off, leaving it to die. Was the same person to blame for the buggy accident? He’d probably never know.

 

“It’s okay,” Shane spoke softly.

 

The deer flicked its ears and struggled to its feet again.

 

“I’m here to help you.” Shane stepped closer, keeping a wary eye on the rack of antlers. It was hardly the biggest he’d seen, but even small antlers could do hefty damage.

 

With another flick of its ears, the buck struggled to a semi-standing position and limped off to the edge of the road and into the forest. It would surely die, but Shane couldn’t do anything about that. He wasn’t about to chase an injured wild animal through the woods. He didn’t carry much medical gear in his Jeep, anyway, aside from a few larger tools used for treating farm animals.

 

He started back toward his vehicle, but a glance at the buggy lying on its side gave him a strong urge to check it out. No point in hurrying. He rubbed his eyes, weary after a long day at the clinic, and surveyed the scene. The buggy appeared to be abandoned.

 

Then, he moved to the edge of the embankment and gazed down the leaf-covered slope. Something caught his eye. A woman? Shane squinted. Sure enough, there was an Amish woman, wearing a maroon dress and a black apron. Gold hair peeked out from underneath her white prayer kapp, and a black bonnet hung loosely around her shoulders. “Hello?”

 

No answer. His breath hitched. Had she hit the deer? Or had the deer hit her? He frowned. Accidents caused by deer affected more cars than buggies, by far. Where was the horse?

 

Heart pounding, he scrambled down through the brush into the ditch. As he crouched beside the woman, his nose caught the metallic odor of blood. The brilliant red on her dress wasn’t part of the fabric. He lifted the hem just enough to spot the injury. Her left leg lay at a weird angle, with a bone protruding from the skin. Definitely broken.

 

His heart sank. He couldn’t help her. His expertise was limited to animals.

 

But he was the only one there. And she needed help—urgently.

 

“Hey.” He touched her left hand. It felt warm. He noted the shallow rise and fall of her chest. His fingers moved down to her wrist, feeling for her pulse. Alive but unresponsive. He reached into his pocket, pulled out his cell phone, and dialed 9-1-1. When the dispatcher answered, he said, “I’d like to report a buggy accident. We need an ambulance. The woman is unconscious and bleeding with a badly broken leg. Looks like a serious injury.” He added their approximate location.

 

Glancing again at the bone sticking out of her skin, Shane shuddered. Animals, he could handle. Humans were too easy to identify with; their injuries hit too close to home. He leaned down and gently pushed her hair away from her neck. Her pulse was extremely rapid and weak. He breathed a prayer that help would arrive quickly.

 

As he studied her face for the first time, recognition nearly knocked him off balance. This woman lived right next door to him. What were the odds of that? Her backyard was overrun with weeds, a stark contrast to her meticulously maintained garden in the side yard. He’d seen her working there many a time. She had the most beautiful dog he’d ever seen, a Siberian husky. And the thought had dawned on him, more than once, that the dog’s owner was more than usually beautiful, as well.

 

She wasn’t married, as far as he knew. The only other people he’d spotted next door were an older couple, presumably her parents. Their last name was Lapp, if the stenciling on their mailbox was current.

 

Shane would have to stop by the house to let her family know about the accident. They would probably be worried sick when she didn’t return.

 

The young woman moaned, drawing Shane’s attention. He saw her eyelids flutter slightly, and then her eyes opened.

 

“It’s okay,” he said, gazing as calmly as he could into her grayish-green eyes. “Help is coming.”

 

“The pain…my head…my leg….” She winced as tears filled her eyes. “Who are you? I’ve seen you before.”

 

“I’m Shane Zimmerman. Your next-door neighbor.” He reached for her hand, hesitated, then folded his fingers gently around hers. As their skin connected, he was startled by the jolt that shot through his fingertips and gained intensity as it traveled through his hand and up his arm. He had no explanation, other than his being overly tired. “You’ll be fine,” he assured her.

 

She only moaned again and closed her eyes.

 

Shane stared down at her bloodstained skirt and saw that the fabric was saturated. He grimaced. She needed help fast, or she’d bleed out. Animal or human, he didn’t want death on his hands tonight.

 

God, help me. Shane let go of her hand and yanked his sweatshirt up and over her head. He lifted her skirt again and pressed the garment against her wound, knowing he could be introducing harmful germs. But there wasn’t a choice. He tried to make her as comfortable as he could without letting up the pressure. Even though she didn’t rouse again, he explained every measure he took, from applying pressure to strapping his belt as a tourniquet around her leg. Then, he sang a couple of Amish songs, the ones he remembered learning from his grandparents. His father had left the Amish as young man, choosing to marry Shane’s mom, who wasn’t Amish. But Shane had often spent entire summers with his grandparents.

 

Time hung in the air as he waited for help to arrive.

 

Finally, there was a screech of brakes and a rumble of gravel on the road above, followed by the sound of a vehicle door opening.

 

“Down here!” Shane called.

 

Seconds later, an EMT carrying a medical bag peeked over the embankment. “Ambulance is right behind me. You didn’t move her, did you?”

 

“No. But she’s bleeding profusely. I did what I could to slow it down.”

 

The man half climbed, half slid, down the slope toward Shane. “I’ve got some emergency flares in the back of my truck. Mind setting them out while I take a look at her?”

 

“Not at all.”

 

Shane did as he’d been asked, then walked over to the buggy to inspect it more closely. The leather harness straps dangled with frayed ends, indicating that the horse had broken free, possibly when the buggy tipped. He checked the immediate area and even wandered a ways into the woods for signs of a wounded animal, but no clues turned up. The roar of sirens in the distance beckoned him back to the site of the wreck.

 

In his Jeep, he found a rag and wiped off his bloody hands while he thought out the statement he’d make to the police.

 

An ambulance screeched to a stop beside the pickup, lights flashing, and a police cruiser pulled up alongside. It wasn’t long before the ambulance wailed away again, spiriting its nameless passenger toward the hospital in Springfield.

 

After Shane had finished answering the police officer’s questions, he started the two-mile trip home, keeping his eyes peeled for an injured horse. He passed his own small plot of land without any sign of the animal.

 

He pulled into the driveway next door, hurried up to the house, and pounded on the front door. No response. After several moments, he knocked again. He knew that the Amish generally kept their doors unlocked, but he didn’t feel comfortable opening the door and hollering into the hallway of a stranger’s house. He rapped one more time, just to be sure.

 

“Hey!”

 

Shane turned around and saw a man on the front porch of the house across the street.

 

The man started down the steps. “Can I help you?”

 

“I’m looking for Ms. Lapp’s family. She was in a buggy accident.”

 

The man came closer. “She hurt bad?”

 

Shane nodded. “Bad.” Would she survive the trip to the hospital? His heart clenched.

 

“Donald Jackson. Me an’ the wife live here.”

 

Shane stretched his mouth into a tight smile. “Shane Zimmerman. Neighbor on the other side.”

 

“Oh, the new guy. Vet, right? Welcome to Seymour.”

 

“Thanks.” It hardly seemed appropriate to exchange pleasantries when someone’s life was hanging in the balance. Shane shifted his weight. “Does she have any family?”

 

Donald shrugged. “Everyone has some. See her parents and other people around from time to time. Sometimes lots of buggies over there. Besides, ain’t the Amish all related? Heard that somewhere.”

 

“Seems that way sometimes.” Okay, this man was no help. A howl from the backyard reminded Shane about the Siberian husky. “I’m going to check on the dog.” He strode down the porch steps and made his way around the side of the house.

 

Donald trailed him. “Barn’s always unlocked, I’m pretty sure, so you could get the dog’s food. I never see her lock it, anyway. But then, I don’t watch her twenty-four-seven or anything.”

 

Shane raised an eyebrow. This Donald apparently watched her often enough to know about the barn door and the dog food. “Nice meeting you, Donald. I’ll just make sure the dog has fresh water, and then I’ll go.” He needed to find someone Amish to notify.

 

Seeing the red and white Siberian husky in a large kennel in the backyard, Shane opened the gate and went in, shutting it behind him. The dog whined and jumped up, wrapping him in a sort of canine embrace. Shane hugged her back. This breed was so affectionate. He rubbed her neck, then stepped back, picked up her metal water dish, and headed for the outside spigot, which he’d spotted on his way to the backyard. The dog followed closely at his feet, growling in a friendly way, as if she carried on a one-sided conversation. At the spigot, Shane filled the dish with cold water, then checked the barn door. It was unlocked, as Donald had said it’d be.

 

Shane stopped and scratched the dog behind her ears. “I’ll be back later to get you some food.” He hesitated. “No, I’ll do it now.” He turned back to the barn and slid both wobbly doors open, going into the darkness. He paused, wishing for his flashlight, then remembered that his Amish grandfather had always kept a lantern near the door. He turned back and groped along a shelf, finally feeling the familiar metal base of a lantern. Next to it was a book of matches, one of which he used to light the wick. It didn’t seem right, being in a stranger’s barn, but the dog would be hungry.

 

He found the dog food and bent down to scoop some into the dish. Then, he straightened and looked around. This was an Amish farm. There’d be other animals to bed down. Cows. Chickens. Horses. He sighed.

 

A nicker sounded, and Shane turned to the door. Ah, the prodigal buggy horse, dragging the frayed strands of a harness. Shane spoke softly to the animal as he grabbed hold of one of the harness straps, and then he led it back to an empty stall. The dog followed, whining all the way. Shane gave the sweaty horse a rubdown, checking it for injuries. Nothing seemed amiss, other than the wild look in its eyes and the way it kept tossing its head, probably responses to the trauma of the accident.

 

When Shane had calmed the horse as best he could, he glanced around again. He knew the basics of managing an Amish farm, thanks to the years he’d spent helping his grandparents, but it was more than one person could handle alone. Another Amish family would probably take on the rest of the chores.

 

Still, he wanted to go to the hospital to check on Ms. Lapp. Why did she still weigh so heavily on his mind? He’d done his duty to her, a stranger.

 

His decision made, he returned the dog to her kennel. Before closing the door, he gave her another rub behind the ears. “I’ll be back.”

 

The dog flopped down on the ground with a reproachful whimper, as if he were abandoning her in her time of greatest need.

 

“Your master was in an accident, but she’ll be okay,” Shane explained. “I hope.” He crouched down to the dog’s level. “I’m going to the hospital right now to check on her.”

 

With another whine, the dog lowered her head to rest on her front paws. Apparently, she had resigned herself to his departing.

 

Shane drove home for a quick shower, then got back in his Jeep to head to the hospital. First, though, he stopped by the farm on the other side of his property. The mailbox there also said “Lapp,” and he figured the residents had to be relatives of the injured woman.

 

Seconds after he pulled into the driveway, a man came out into the yard. Shane introduced himself and asked for confirmation that this family was related to the other Lapps, specifically the young woman with the Siberian husky.

 

The man frowned. “Jah, we’re family. I’m Kristi’s onkel. Timothy. I’m caring for their livestock while her parents are visiting family in Sarasota. I was getting ready to head over there.”

 

Shane proceeded to tell Timothy about the accident. For a relative of Kristi’s, he processed the information rather stoically, Shane thought.

 

“Can I give you a lift to the hospital?”

 

Timothy took a step back. “Nein, I’ll contact the bishop, and he’ll get the word out. And I’ll make a call down to Florida to tell her parents.”

 

Timothy headed back to the barn, and Shane drove away, wondering why was he was taking the time to go to the hospital and check on a woman he didn’t even know. He probably wouldn’t find out anything, thanks to the strict privacy policy. But still, something drew him.

 

At the hospital, Shane went directly to the emergency wing and approached the front desk. “Kristi Lapp, please.”

 

The receptionist nodded and checked something on her computer. Then, she looked up with a sympathetic smile. “If you’ll take a seat in the waiting room, a doctor will be out to talk with you in just a few minutes.”

 

She must be in more serious condition than he’d thought. Shane went down the hall to the waiting area, where he was relieved to find a coffeemaker. He poured himself a coffee and watched several minutes of the sitcom playing on the TV mounted on the wall overhead.

 

As the only person in the room, he had his choice of seats. He selected a chair in a corner and picked up a magazine from the end table next to it. However, the contents didn’t appear to be any more interesting than the drama he was caught up in, so he put it back. Instead of reading, he prayed for Kristi and for the doctors working on her. It felt strange praying for a woman he didn’t know and waiting for an update from the doctor, as if she meant something special to him. But it seemed she did, even though he’d just met her. Did their brief interaction even count as a meeting? He wasn’t sure. All he knew was that he hadn’t felt this strong a connection with a woman since Becca. Immediately he dismissed the thought.

 

He was glad he’d found out her name. Calling her “Ms. Lapp” seemed so wrong. Plus, he probably wouldn’t have been permitted to see her if the hospital staff thought he was a stranger.

 

Several people came into the waiting room and exited again during a period of time that felt like hours.

 

At last, a doctor came into the room. “Family for Kristi Lapp.”

 

Shane blew out a breath. Family he wasn’t, but he was the only person there for her. Hopefully, the doctor wouldn’t ask how he was related. He got up, feeling a twinge of guilt at his act of impersonation.

 

The doctor led him into a private conference room and gestured for him to sit down. “She’s in recovery. We’ve given her a blood transfusion, and we’ll be monitoring her hemoglobin and hematocrit—that is, blood values. As soon as we’re sure they are in the normal range, she’ll be referred to an orthopedic surgeon for a procedure we abbreviate as ORIF: open reduction internal fixation.”

 

Shane nodded. He was familiar with the procedure, but the doctor was probably accustomed to having to explain it, so he continued.

 

“Open reduction—that’s how we put the bone back in the position it’s supposed to be. And internal fixation is how we stabilize it—with a rod down the center of the bone and plates on either side, to keep it in the position it’s supposed to be in until nature takes her course and it heals completely. The plates may be removed later, as long as the bone heals well. Also, her femoral artery was nicked, but she’ll be fine. Lost a lot of blood. We had to give her three units. She’s going to have substantial bruising and probably be in considerable pain.”

 

“Has she regained consciousness?”

 

“Not yet. But brain activity is normal, and we expect no complications.”

 

“Thank you.” Shane stood up and started for the door.

 

“If you want to wait, I’ll have a nurse come and show you to her room.”

 

Shane stopped in the doorway. “I’ll come in tomorrow.”

 

The doctor frowned. “I’m sure your wife will want to see you when she wakes up.”

 

***

 

Kristi woke up in an unfamiliar room filled with odd beeping noises. Straight ahead, a television was mounted on the celery-green wall. To her right was a beige-colored curtain; to her left, a big, dark window. The hospital. How did she get here? Someone must have found her. What about Samson? What had happened to him?

 

Had Susie birthed her boppli? Kristi groaned and shifted on the bed, noticing the bedside table with a plastic pitcher of water and an empty tumbler. And…flowers? She smiled at the vase holding six pink rosebuds, a cluster of baby’s breath, and some other greenery. Who would have sent a bouquet? Maybe the person who’d found her.

 

With great effort, she reached with her right arm toward the table, pain washing over her anew. It seemed every part of her body ached. Despite the discomfort, she extended her arm just far enough to snatch the white envelope from the plastic forklike thing tucked into the bouquet.

 

Her left hand had an IV needle stuck in it, taped down. She grimaced at the sight. She’d have a bruise there, probably, but that would be the least of her injuries. Even with her pain-blurred vision, which made it seem as if the room was spinning, she could tell from the shape of the blanket that covered her legs how swollen they were. Her left leg, in particular—that’s where most of the pain radiated from. Wincing with effort, she tore open the envelope and pulled out a plain white card. The message written inside was simple:

 

You’re in my prayers.

 

Shane Zimmerman

 

Sweet, but it must have been intended for another patient. She didn’t know anybody by the name of Shane Zimmerman. Or did she? Her head pounded as she tried to figure it out. No one came to mind.

 

Maybe this mystery man would come to the hospital to see her.

 

She pressed the card to her chest and closed her eyes, imagining a tall, handsome Amish man. Hopefully, when she fell asleep, he would visit her in her dreams.

 

 

 

Chapter 1

 

October

 

Kristi Lapp flicked the reins impatiently. “Kum on, Samson. ‘Slow’ isn’t the only speed you’re capable of, ain’t so?” She needed him to pick up the pace. Silas Troyer had banged on her door earlier to alert her that his frau, Susie, was going into labor, and then he’d raced down the lane in his horse-and-buggy to notify their family members of the imminent birth.

 

Kristi was especially excited about this boppli. Susie had four girls, all of them a year apart, and she’d been expecting to have a boy this time, based on how different it had felt carrying him. Mamms usually sensed these things. And Kristi predicted she was right.

 

Several deer stepped onto the road right in front of Kristi, none of them even glancing her way. Smiling, she pulled the reins slightly to the right to direct Samson away from them, over to the side of the road. A similarly sized herd had meandered its way through her family’s backyard the other day, and she’d always admired the animals for sticking together as they did.

 

She tightened her grip on the reins and gave them another flick, hoping to encourage Samson to move more quickly.

 

As the deer were crossing the center line into the other lane, the powerful roar of an engine broke the serenity of the setting. A red sports car crested the hill up ahead, barreling in Kristi’s direction at a speed she’d never witnessed on this road. She heaved a breath of exasperation. Any idiot would have noticed one of the several signs that read, “Watch for Buggies.” They were impossible to miss, and Kristi had passed four of them in the last mile alone.

 

As the car whizzed toward her, the herd of deer scattered, darting in different directions. The driver swerved sharply into Kristi’s lane to avoid them, and she gasped, frantically trying to steer the buggy over toward the shoulder. A chill ran up her spine at the sight of the steep embankment and deep ditch below.

 

One of the spooked deer pivoted. Made a mad dash straight toward her horse. Samson reared and immediately took off at a run, straight toward the ditch.

 

“Whoa, Samson!” Kristi planted her feet against the front of the buggy and pulled back on the reins with all her might. Leave it to Samson to shift into high gear at the worst time.

 

The car sped past, but Samson wouldn’t slow down. He was heading straight for the side of the road. Panic surged through Kristi, constricting her breath. Should she try to jump out? She dropped the reins and scooted to the edge of the seat.

 

She was too late. The buggy lurched as Samson ran headlong over the embankment. As the vehicle tipped, she was propelled out the side. Hours seemed to pass before her body collided with the ground and pain engulfed her.

 

Teetering on the edge of consciousness, she thought briefly of Susie. How desperately she wanted to be there to assist with the birth of her boppli! Especially considering the problems she’d had with her first delivery…. And then she blacked out.

 

***

 

Shane Zimmerman flipped on his fog lights to illuminate the low-lying clouds, which created interesting shapes and shadows against the dark backdrop of woods lining the rural Missouri highway. He scanned the area for deer ousted from their natural habitats by hunters. Of course, rutting season also brought them out of hiding. Not that he hunted. He did treat many a pet that had been injured accidentally by a hunter, such as the Great Dane boarding at his clinic while she recovered from the surgical removal of an errant bullet.

 

Shane reached inside the console for a CD—the latest release from LordSong—and slid it into the player. As the uplifting music filled the car, he flexed his shoulders in an effort to relieve the tension of the busy day behind him. He looked forward to getting home and kicking back to read his Bible and watch the evening news.

 

As his Jeep crowned the hill, he tapped the brakes at the sight of a wrecked Amish buggy. He scanned the area, but there was no sign of horse or driver. The animal must have been released and carted home. Or put down, if its injuries had been severe enough.

 

Returning his gaze to the highway, he slowed. A young buck lay on the road, still alive yet struggling.

 

Shane pulled his Jeep to the shoulder, put it in park, and clicked on the hazard lights. Leaving the keys in the ignition, he got out, his heart pounding in time with the obnoxious dinging sound of the car. Cautiously, he approached the deer. Its brown eyes fixed on him, wild with fear. The animal lurched to a standing position for a second but quickly collapsed again on the hard pavement, where it remained. Its labored breaths intensified. Whoever had hit it had driven off, leaving it to die. Was the same person to blame for the buggy accident? He’d probably never know.

 

“It’s okay,” Shane spoke softly.

 

The deer flicked its ears and struggled to its feet again.

 

“I’m here to help you.” Shane stepped closer, keeping a wary eye on the rack of antlers. It was hardly the biggest he’d seen, but even small antlers could do hefty damage.

 

With another flick of its ears, the buck struggled to a semi-standing position and limped off to the edge of the road and into the forest. It would surely die, but Shane couldn’t do anything about that. He wasn’t about to chase an injured wild animal through the woods. He didn’t carry much medical gear in his Jeep, anyway, aside from a few larger tools used for treating farm animals.

 

He started back toward his vehicle, but a glance at the buggy lying on its side gave him a strong urge to check it out. No point in hurrying. He rubbed his eyes, weary after a long day at the clinic, and surveyed the scene. The buggy appeared to be abandoned.

 

Then, he moved to the edge of the embankment and gazed down the leaf-covered slope. Something caught his eye. A woman? Shane squinted. Sure enough, there was an Amish woman, wearing a maroon dress and a black apron. Gold hair peeked out from underneath her white prayer kapp, and a black bonnet hung loosely around her shoulders. “Hello?”

 

No answer. His breath hitched. Had she hit the deer? Or had the deer hit her? He frowned. Accidents caused by deer affected more cars than buggies, by far. Where was the horse?

 

Heart pounding, he scrambled down through the brush into the ditch. As he crouched beside the woman, his nose caught the metallic odor of blood. The brilliant red on her dress wasn’t part of the fabric. He lifted the hem just enough to spot the injury. Her left leg lay at a weird angle, with a bone protruding from the skin. Definitely broken.

 

His heart sank. He couldn’t help her. His expertise was limited to animals.

 

But he was the only one there. And she needed help—urgently.

 

“Hey.” He touched her left hand. It felt warm. He noted the shallow rise and fall of her chest. His fingers moved down to her wrist, feeling for her pulse. Alive but unresponsive. He reached into his pocket, pulled out his cell phone, and dialed 9-1-1. When the dispatcher answered, he said, “I’d like to report a buggy accident. We need an ambulance. The woman is unconscious and bleeding with a badly broken leg. Looks like a serious injury.” He added their approximate location.

 

Glancing again at the bone sticking out of her skin, Shane shuddered. Animals, he could handle. Humans were too easy to identify with; their injuries hit too close to home. He leaned down and gently pushed her hair away from her neck. Her pulse was extremely rapid and weak. He breathed a prayer that help would arrive quickly.

 

As he studied her face for the first time, recognition nearly knocked him off balance. This woman lived right next door to him. What were the odds of that? Her backyard was overrun with weeds, a stark contrast to her meticulously maintained garden in the side yard. He’d seen her working there many a time. She had the most beautiful dog he’d ever seen, a Siberian husky. And the thought had dawned on him, more than once, that the dog’s owner was more than usually beautiful, as well.

 

She wasn’t married, as far as he knew. The only other people he’d spotted next door were an older couple, presumably her parents. Their last name was Lapp, if the stenciling on their mailbox was current.

 

Shane would have to stop by the house to let her family know about the accident. They would probably be worried sick when she didn’t return.

 

The young woman moaned, drawing Shane’s attention. He saw her eyelids flutter slightly, and then her eyes opened.

 

“It’s okay,” he said, gazing as calmly as he could into her grayish-green eyes. “Help is coming.”

 

“The pain…my head…my leg….” She winced as tears filled her eyes. “Who are you? I’ve seen you before.”

 

“I’m Shane Zimmerman. Your next-door neighbor.” He reached for her hand, hesitated, then folded his fingers gently around hers. As their skin connected, he was startled by the jolt that shot through his fingertips and gained intensity as it traveled through his hand and up his arm. He had no explanation, other than his being overly tired. “You’ll be fine,” he assured her.

 

She only moaned again and closed her eyes.

 

Shane stared down at her bloodstained skirt and saw that the fabric was saturated. He grimaced. She needed help fast, or she’d bleed out. Animal or human, he didn’t want death on his hands tonight.

 

God, help me. Shane let go of her hand and yanked his sweatshirt up and over her head. He lifted her skirt again and pressed the garment against her wound, knowing he could be introducing harmful germs. But there wasn’t a choice. He tried to make her as comfortable as he could without letting up the pressure. Even though she didn’t rouse again, he explained every measure he took, from applying pressure to strapping his belt as a tourniquet around her leg. Then, he sang a couple of Amish songs, the ones he remembered learning from his grandparents. His father had left the Amish as young man, choosing to marry Shane’s mom, who wasn’t Amish. But Shane had often spent entire summers with his grandparents.

 

Time hung in the air as he waited for help to arrive.

 

Finally, there was a screech of brakes and a rumble of gravel on the road above, followed by the sound of a vehicle door opening.

 

“Down here!” Shane called.

 

Seconds later, an EMT carrying a medical bag peeked over the embankment. “Ambulance is right behind me. You didn’t move her, did you?”

 

“No. But she’s bleeding profusely. I did what I could to slow it down.”

 

The man half climbed, half slid, down the slope toward Shane. “I’ve got some emergency flares in the back of my truck. Mind setting them out while I take a look at her?”

 

“Not at all.”

 

Shane did as he’d been asked, then walked over to the buggy to inspect it more closely. The leather harness straps dangled with frayed ends, indicating that the horse had broken free, possibly when the buggy tipped. He checked the immediate area and even wandered a ways into the woods for signs of a wounded animal, but no clues turned up. The roar of sirens in the distance beckoned him back to the site of the wreck.

 

In his Jeep, he found a rag and wiped off his bloody hands while he thought out the statement he’d make to the police.

 

An ambulance screeched to a stop beside the pickup, lights flashing, and a police cruiser pulled up alongside. It wasn’t long before the ambulance wailed away again, spiriting its nameless passenger toward the hospital in Springfield.

 

After Shane had finished answering the police officer’s questions, he started the two-mile trip home, keeping his eyes peeled for an injured horse. He passed his own small plot of land without any sign of the animal.

 

He pulled into the driveway next door, hurried up to the house, and pounded on the front door. No response. After several moments, he knocked again. He knew that the Amish generally kept their doors unlocked, but he didn’t feel comfortable opening the door and hollering into the hallway of a stranger’s house. He rapped one more time, just to be sure.

 

“Hey!”

 

Shane turned around and saw a man on the front porch of the house across the street.

 

The man started down the steps. “Can I help you?”

 

“I’m looking for Ms. Lapp’s family. She was in a buggy accident.”

 

The man came closer. “She hurt bad?”

 

Shane nodded. “Bad.” Would she survive the trip to the hospital? His heart clenched.

 

“Donald Jackson. Me an’ the wife live here.”

 

Shane stretched his mouth into a tight smile. “Shane Zimmerman. Neighbor on the other side.”

 

“Oh, the new guy. Vet, right? Welcome to Seymour.”

 

“Thanks.” It hardly seemed appropriate to exchange pleasantries when someone’s life was hanging in the balance. Shane shifted his weight. “Does she have any family?”

 

Donald shrugged. “Everyone has some. See her parents and other people around from time to time. Sometimes lots of buggies over there. Besides, ain’t the Amish all related? Heard that somewhere.”

 

“Seems that way sometimes.” Okay, this man was no help. A howl from the backyard reminded Shane about the Siberian husky. “I’m going to check on the dog.” He strode down the porch steps and made his way around the side of the house.

 

Donald trailed him. “Barn’s always unlocked, I’m pretty sure, so you could get the dog’s food. I never see her lock it, anyway. But then, I don’t watch her twenty-four-seven or anything.”

 

Shane raised an eyebrow. This Donald apparently watched her often enough to know about the barn door and the dog food. “Nice meeting you, Donald. I’ll just make sure the dog has fresh water, and then I’ll go.” He needed to find someone Amish to notify.

 

Seeing the red and white Siberian husky in a large kennel in the backyard, Shane opened the gate and went in, shutting it behind him. The dog whined and jumped up, wrapping him in a sort of canine embrace. Shane hugged her back. This breed was so affectionate. He rubbed her neck, then stepped back, picked up her metal water dish, and headed for the outside spigot, which he’d spotted on his way to the backyard. The dog followed closely at his feet, growling in a friendly way, as if she carried on a one-sided conversation. At the spigot, Shane filled the dish with cold water, then checked the barn door. It was unlocked, as Donald had said it’d be.

 

Shane stopped and scratched the dog behind her ears. “I’ll be back later to get you some food.” He hesitated. “No, I’ll do it now.” He turned back to the barn and slid both wobbly doors open, going into the darkness. He paused, wishing for his flashlight, then remembered that his Amish grandfather had always kept a lantern near the door. He turned back and groped along a shelf, finally feeling the familiar metal base of a lantern. Next to it was a book of matches, one of which he used to light the wick. It didn’t seem right, being in a stranger’s barn, but the dog would be hungry.

 

He found the dog food and bent down to scoop some into the dish. Then, he straightened and looked around. This was an Amish farm. There’d be other animals to bed down. Cows. Chickens. Horses. He sighed.

 

A nicker sounded, and Shane turned to the door. Ah, the prodigal buggy horse, dragging the frayed strands of a harness. Shane spoke softly to the animal as he grabbed hold of one of the harness straps, and then he led it back to an empty stall. The dog followed, whining all the way. Shane gave the sweaty horse a rubdown, checking it for injuries. Nothing seemed amiss, other than the wild look in its eyes and the way it kept tossing its head, probably responses to the trauma of the accident.

 

When Shane had calmed the horse as best he could, he glanced around again. He knew the basics of managing an Amish farm, thanks to the years he’d spent helping his grandparents, but it was more than one person could handle alone. Another Amish family would probably take on the rest of the chores.

 

Still, he wanted to go to the hospital to check on Ms. Lapp. Why did she still weigh so heavily on his mind? He’d done his duty to her, a stranger.

 

His decision made, he returned the dog to her kennel. Before closing the door, he gave her another rub behind the ears. “I’ll be back.”

 

The dog flopped down on the ground with a reproachful whimper, as if he were abandoning her in her time of greatest need.

 

“Your master was in an accident, but she’ll be okay,” Shane explained. “I hope.” He crouched down to the dog’s level. “I’m going to the hospital right now to check on her.”

 

With another whine, the dog lowered her head to rest on her front paws. Apparently, she had resigned herself to his departing.

 

Shane drove home for a quick shower, then got back in his Jeep to head to the hospital. First, though, he stopped by the farm on the other side of his property. The mailbox there also said “Lapp,” and he figured the residents had to be relatives of the injured woman.

 

Seconds after he pulled into the driveway, a man came out into the yard. Shane introduced himself and asked for confirmation that this family was related to the other Lapps, specifically the young woman with the Siberian husky.

 

The man frowned. “Jah, we’re family. I’m Kristi’s onkel. Timothy. I’m caring for their livestock while her parents are visiting family in Sarasota. I was getting ready to head over there.”

 

Shane proceeded to tell Timothy about the accident. For a relative of Kristi’s, he processed the information rather stoically, Shane thought.

 

“Can I give you a lift to the hospital?”

 

Timothy took a step back. “Nein, I’ll contact the bishop, and he’ll get the word out. And I’ll make a call down to Florida to tell her parents.”

 

Timothy headed back to the barn, and Shane drove away, wondering why was he was taking the time to go to the hospital and check on a woman he didn’t even know. He probably wouldn’t find out anything, thanks to the strict privacy policy. But still, something drew him.

 

At the hospital, Shane went directly to the emergency wing and approached the front desk. “Kristi Lapp, please.”

 

The receptionist nodded and checked something on her computer. Then, she looked up with a sympathetic smile. “If you’ll take a seat in the waiting room, a doctor will be out to talk with you in just a few minutes.”

 

She must be in more serious condition than he’d thought. Shane went down the hall to the waiting area, where he was relieved to find a coffeemaker. He poured himself a coffee and watched several minutes of the sitcom playing on the TV mounted on the wall overhead.

 

As the only person in the room, he had his choice of seats. He selected a chair in a corner and picked up a magazine from the end table next to it. However, the contents didn’t appear to be any more interesting than the drama he was caught up in, so he put it back. Instead of reading, he prayed for Kristi and for the doctors working on her. It felt strange praying for a woman he didn’t know and waiting for an update from the doctor, as if she meant something special to him. But it seemed she did, even though he’d just met her. Did their brief interaction even count as a meeting? He wasn’t sure. All he knew was that he hadn’t felt this strong a connection with a woman since Becca. Immediately he dismissed the thought.

 

He was glad he’d found out her name. Calling her “Ms. Lapp” seemed so wrong. Plus, he probably wouldn’t have been permitted to see her if the hospital staff thought he was a stranger.

 

Several people came into the waiting room and exited again during a period of time that felt like hours.

 

At last, a doctor came into the room. “Family for Kristi Lapp.”

 

Shane blew out a breath. Family he wasn’t, but he was the only person there for her. Hopefully, the doctor wouldn’t ask how he was related. He got up, feeling a twinge of guilt at his act of impersonation.

 

The doctor led him into a private conference room and gestured for him to sit down. “She’s in recovery. We’ve given her a blood transfusion, and we’ll be monitoring her hemoglobin and hematocrit—that is, blood values. As soon as we’re sure they are in the normal range, she’ll be referred to an orthopedic surgeon for a procedure we abbreviate as ORIF: open reduction internal fixation.”

 

Shane nodded. He was familiar with the procedure, but the doctor was probably accustomed to having to explain it, so he continued.

 

“Open reduction—that’s how we put the bone back in the position it’s supposed to be. And internal fixation is how we stabilize it—with a rod down the center of the bone and plates on either side, to keep it in the position it’s supposed to be in until nature takes her course and it heals completely. The plates may be removed later, as long as the bone heals well. Also, her femoral artery was nicked, but she’ll be fine. Lost a lot of blood. We had to give her three units. She’s going to have substantial bruising and probably be in considerable pain.”

 

“Has she regained consciousness?”

 

“Not yet. But brain activity is normal, and we expect no complications.”

 

“Thank you.” Shane stood up and started for the door.

 

“If you want to wait, I’ll have a nurse come and show you to her room.”

 

Shane stopped in the doorway. “I’ll come in tomorrow.”

 

The doctor frowned. “I’m sure your wife will want to see you when she wakes up.”

 

***

 

Kristi woke up in an unfamiliar room filled with odd beeping noises. Straight ahead, a television was mounted on the celery-green wall. To her right was a beige-colored curtain; to her left, a big, dark window. The hospital. How did she get here? Someone must have found her. What about Samson? What had happened to him?

 

Had Susie birthed her boppli? Kristi groaned and shifted on the bed, noticing the bedside table with a plastic pitcher of water and an empty tumbler. And…flowers? She smiled at the vase holding six pink rosebuds, a cluster of baby’s breath, and some other greenery. Who would have sent a bouquet? Maybe the person who’d found her.

 

With great effort, she reached with her right arm toward the table, pain washing over her anew. It seemed every part of her body ached. Despite the discomfort, she extended her arm just far enough to snatch the white envelope from the plastic forklike thing tucked into the bouquet.

 

Her left hand had an IV needle stuck in it, taped down. She grimaced at the sight. She’d have a bruise there, probably, but that would be the least of her injuries. Even with her pain-blurred vision, which made it seem as if the room was spinning, she could tell from the shape of the blanket that covered her legs how swollen they were. Her left leg, in particular—that’s where most of the pain radiated from. Wincing with effort, she tore open the envelope and pulled out a plain white card. The message written inside was simple:

 

You’re in my prayers.

 

Shane Zimmerman

 

Sweet, but it must have been intended for another patient. She didn’t know anybody by the name of Shane Zimmerman. Or did she? Her head pounded as she tried to figure it out. No one came to mind.

 

Maybe this mystery man would come to the hospital to see her.

 

She pressed the card to her chest and closed her eyes, imagining a tall, handsome Amish man. Hopefully, when she fell asleep, he would visit her in her dreams.

 

 

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Food Family Style

August 13th, 2012

 

 

Texas ‘Queso Queen’& Entrepreneur Shares Secrets to Family Dinner

 

Time may be short and budgets may be tight, but these 365 mouthwatering recipes are sure to draw families into the kitchen and around the table day after day. Crowned Queso Queen, Leigh Oliver Vickery shares her passion for including the whole family in cooking and eating dinner around the kitchen table. From tasty breakfasts, soups and salads to sumptuous main dishes and desserts, Food Family Style delivers just what readers’ families ordered.

Vickery is an entrepreneur and founder of Leigh Oliver’s (www.leigholivers.com), a specialty, all natural food company. Her original white cheese queso and more than 25 other products can be found in Central Market, Whole Foods Market, Brookshire’s, Costco, Kroger and other retail venues across the country. She is now in her second season as a food offering at the Dallas Cowboys stadium when you order chips and queso or cheese steak. Those popular choices even made the list of foods given a four star review by the Dallas Morning News.

Throughout Food Family Style are symbols indicating recipes that double easily, freeze well, are gluten-free or vegetarian, can be made in a slow cooker, and more. And since there’s more to mealtime than just the food, this innovative book also includes tips about how to involve kids in meal preparation, meaningful conversation starters and simple ideas to bring warmth to your home.

ISLAND BREEZES

I’ve been seeing a lot of yummy looking recipes in this book.

One thing I really like is the fact that these recipes truly are simple. I used to do a lot of the time consuming fancy recipes. I’m over that now.

At the present I’m on a limited meal plan for several months. Then I’ll be able to try many more of these recipes. I’ve currently had to modify some of them a bit.

One really good thing is all the gluten free recipes here. My next one to try will be the Slow Cooker Jambalaya. My mouth is watering just reading the ingredient list.

***A special thank you to Donna Hausler for providing a review copy.***

Leigh Oliver Vickery is creator and founder of Leigh Oliver’s, a specialty “fun food” company with numerous products on the market in at least twenty-five states and grocery chains, including Whole Foods Market and Costco. She is the former food editor of the Tyler Morning Telegraph in Tyler, Texas, and now blogs at www.onebighappytable.com. Leigh also has a regular twice-weekly segment on two local TV stations called “One Big Happy Table with Leigh Vickery.” She lives in Tyler, Texas, with her husband, two sons, and three dogs.

Available August 2012 at your favorite bookseller from Revell, a division of Baker Publishing Group.

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Heavenly Treasures

August 12th, 2012

“Do not be afraid, little flock, for it is your Father’s good pleasure to give you the kingdom. 

Sell your possessions, and give alms.  Make purses for yourselves that do not wear out, an unfailing treasure in heaven, where no thief comes near and no moth destroys.

For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.”

Luke 12:32-34

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Lethal Legacy

August 7th, 2012

Two-Time RITA Award-Winning Author Completes Critically-Acclaimed Romantic Suspense Series

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Bestselling suspense author Irene Hannon completes the Guardians of Justice series with her much-anticipated novel Lethal Legacy, releasing in August 2012. Hannon’s signature high-intensity action and taut suspense combined with her talent for writing tender, heartwarming romance will have readers on the edge of their seats. A two-time RITA award winner, Hannon completes the critically acclaimed series with a story of old grudges and a budding romance.

Kelly Warren is on a mission to prove her father’s death wasn’t suicide, but Detective Cole Taylor doesn’t put much credence in her claim. Nothing in his case review suggests foul play until Kelly ends up in the emergency room with a suspicious life-threatening medical condition. The incident strikes him as more than just coincidence. Digging deeper, he discovers she’s linked to a long-ago crime. Is history repeating itself? And who wants Kelly silenced?

ISLAND BREEZES

The Taylor family is back. Every one of these family members is special.

Cole Taylor is the lone romantic holdout, but maybe that won’t last.

A very stubborn and attractive Kelly Warren is determined to get her father’s case reopened. She thinks his death was a murder. There’s just no way her father would commit suicide.

You’ll find love mixed in with danger in this story. The suspense will keep you reading long into the night.

***A special thank you to Donna Hausler for providing a review copy.*** 

Hannon, a former communications executive for a Fortune 500 company, left the corporate world in 2003 to focus on her growing fiction brand. While continuing to write contemporary romance, she also delved into suspense. The result was her Heroes of Quantico series, which began in 2009 with Against All Odds. From the beginning, her suspense books have garnered rave reviews. Booklist named her last novel, Deadly Pursuit (Revell, 2011) one of the top ten inspirational fiction titles for 2011 saying Hannon crafted “compelling characters and an emotionally engaging plot powered by a surfeit of nail biting suspense.”

Each of her suspense titles, though part of a series, can be read as a stand-alone novel.

Irene Hannon is the author of more than 35 novels, including the bestselling Heroes of Quantico and Guardians of Justice series. Her books have been honored with two coveted RITA awards from Romance Writers of America, a Carol Award, a HOLT Medallion, a Daphne du Maurier Award and two Reviewers’ Choice Awards from?RT Book Reviews?magazine. She lives in St. Louis, Missouri.

For more information about her and her books, visit her web site at www.irenehannon.com and follow her on Twitter at @IreneHannon.Revell, a division of Baker Publishing Group, offers practical books for everyday life.? For more information, visit www.RevellBooks.com

Available August 2012 at your favorite bookseller from Revell, a division of Baker Publishing Group.

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Consider the Lilies

August 5th, 2012

“Consider the lilies, how they grow; they neither toil nor spin; yet I tell you, even Solomon in all his glory was not clothed like one of these.

But if God so clothes the grass of the field, which is alive today and tomorrow is thrown into the oven, how much more will he clothe you – you of little faith!

And do not keep striving for what you are to eat and what you are to drink, and do not keep worrying.

For it is the nations of the world that strive after all these things, and your Father knows that you need them.

Instead, strive for his kingdom and these things will be given to you as well.

Luke 12: 27-31

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The Rise of Shem

August 3rd, 2012

It is time for a FIRST Wild Card Tour book review! If you wish to join the FIRST blog alliance, just click the button. We are a group of reviewers who tour Christian books. A Wild Card post includes a brief bio of the author and a full chapter from each book toured. The reason it is called a FIRST Wild Card Tour is that you never know if the book will be fiction, non~fiction, for young, or for old…or for somewhere in between! Enjoy your free peek into the book!

You never know when I might play a wild card on you!

Today’s Wild Card author is:

 

R. Frederick Riddle

 

and the book:

 

The Rise of Shem
PublishAmerica (May 21, 2012)

***Special thanks to R. Frederick Riddle for sending me a review copy.***

ABOUT THE AUTHOR:

Born in 1943 in the middle of WWII, R. Frederick Riddle early developed a love for history and literature. Reading was a great delight to him, especially when it concerned adventure.

In 1962 he joined the United States Navy and served as a radioman aboard two cruisers. After leaving the Navy, he worked in the telecommunications for 25 years. Owned Internet bookstore (Christian Writ Bookstore) for four years (2005-2009), while pursuing his writing career.

Mr. Riddle and his wife currently reside in Port Charlotte, Florida.
Visit the author’s website.

SHORT BOOK DESCRIPTION:

Picking up where Perished finished (actually overlapping on beginning of Flood), the book takes the reader from the Flood through the Tower of Babel to Abram’s getting ready to leave Haran.

Through it all the reader follows Shem as he witnesses and experiences the events, and discovers that he has a role to play.

Product Details:

Price: $33.69

Hardcover: 326 pages

Publisher: PublishAmerica (May 21, 2012)

Language: English

ISBN-10: 1462684009

ISBN-13: 978-1462684007

ISLAND BREEZES

R. Frederick Riddle knows how to bring the Old Testament to life. This sequel to Perished: The World That Was begins on the first day of the flood and takes us to the king priest Melchizedek.

Have you ever wondered what life was like after Noah and his family left the ark? Dis you ever stop to think about his extended family? That’s us. Every person who’s ever lived since the flood is a descendant of Noah.

This book gives you a taste of our history – the beginnings of our legacy. Life then was really an adventure for Noah, his sons and all the others.

I certainly hope Mr. Riddle is working on the next book. I want to go straight through the Old Testament with him.
AND NOW…THE FIRST CHAPTER:

ONE
ON THE ARK
2350BC (pop. 8)
Beneath the raging seas the world was changing. Where once a single continent contained all of civilization, it was now being ripped apart to eventually become seven continents. The earth shuddered from these catastrophic events unseen by human eye.
On day forty one, Noah and his family had seen a calm sea, but that had changed with a suddenness that was both unexpected and violent! Like a man shivering from the cold the entire earth trembled. Entire mountain ranges had disappeared below the seas, while being replaced elsewhere with new mountain ranges. But all this was under the turbulent seas, not to be seen until the waters receded.
The storm passed, but the turbulent seas continued to roil though not quite as much. The entire globe was still covered with water. Looking out the window, Noah and his family could see what remained of the former civilization, that had existed for hundreds of years, now floating on the surface. Still much more was buried beneath the sea.
The bright sun, shining unimpeded upon the ocean surface, revealed this terrible destruction and judgment of God. The sight caused such tremendous grief that he ordered the shutters closed once again.
The Ark, having been subject to the powerful forces of nature, had completely survived. Its critics, now dead, would have been astonished with its sea worthiness. It would be another 4000 years before ships of comparable size traveled the ocean.
As the cataclysmic events under the sea continued, the ocean currents reacted with violence causing the Ark to ride the waves much as a man rides a raging bull. The ship was lifted up upon giant waves, only to be dropped with a sickening drop into a deep valley. Soon afterward another wave would lift the ship, which strained and groaned against such mistreatment. But it held together.
Inside, the human passengers found life on board to be terrifying and sickening. Although the ocean seemed gentle in comparison to the initial violence of the Flood, the ship was still like a cork upon the sea. Every one of them experienced the ship’s twisting movements. It seems that with each rise and fall, not to mention the rolling from side to side, their stomachs had an equally severe churning with bile rising to their throats. It drove them to their knees, sometimes ending with violent and terrifying heaves. Unfortunately, after awhile, there was no more food to throw up since no one had the strength to go down to the storage cells and bring more food up or to go to the “garden.” The mere thought of food made them feel worse.
Thus, began their first experience with dry heaves. Color left their cheeks, sweat bathed their faces, and they felt weak all over. During those first few days upon the angry sea, they felt this nausea repeatedly. It was the kind of sickness that the sea can cause for even the most experienced seafarers.
But, fortunately, this lasted only for a few days. Except for Hagaba, everyone’s stomach settled down and they began to eat once again. The three women would go each morning to the “garden” and gather vegetables.
This “garden” existed because of the command of God (“and take thou unto thee of all food that is eaten”) and the insistence of Naamah. Hiram had built the framework, Noah had filled it with fertile loam and planted small shrubs, and the sons had tilled it. All in the stern of the ship. Now it was the ladies work to reap the harvest.
Hagaba finally did eat and ceased to have the dry heaves, but she still had trouble keeping the food down. However, the rest of them showed definite signs of improvement as they began to get their sea legs.
Even so, the rough seas made it difficult to take care of the animals, most of which had slept through the storm. Although some turbulence would continue throughout the Flood, it did show signs of lessening with the gigantic waves shrinking and the violence easing.
Meanwhile, the Ark bobbed upon the still powerful currents, but not with the former violence. Still, the ship protested the violence and creaked with each twisting turn. Moreover, its constant rocking from side to side forced the family to grab any post or permanently secured structure to keep from falling.
This constant lurching caused them to stagger about like drunken men. But in the midst of this violence came laughter as one or another would sometimes end up in hilarious positions. Even so, it was with great relief that the turbulence finally settled down and everything returned to a semblance of order.
As the ship continued moving toward an unknown destination, a sense of peace crept over the family. These eight humans found a renewed sense of calmness and faith, although the recent turbulence had proved too much for Japheth’s wife Hagaba. She now lay sick upon her bed with Achsah, Shem’s wife, spending time comforting and cleaning up after her.
Achsah searched for and found a clean bucket, which she placed beside her sister-in-law’s bed. Hagaba lay there, her face dotted with drops of sweat and Achsah, sitting in a chair next to the bed, gently took Hagaba’s hand.
“Just lean over and throw up into it,” she instructed, trying to maintain a cheerful tone.
Tired and depressed by the overpowering smell, she eventually left Hagaba and found her husband in his private chamber recording the day’s events in the Writings. She softly knocked on the bulwark just outside his “writing” room.
“Yes, Achsah. Is something wrong?”
“No, my lord. I am just weary. Will you be much longer?
“I don’t think so. By the way, how is Hagaba doing?”
“She’s feeling a little better,” responded Achsah. “As long as she lays down, her stomach seems to be fine.”
“It sounds like what the sailors used to call sea sickness,” suggested Shem. “I’ve heard many stories of how that sickness felled even the strongest of men. That’s why so few entered that life and fewer yet that stayed in it.”
“Perhaps. I should probably get back to her.”
Shem quietly stood and walked over to his wife, placing his hands upon her shoulders. Gently, his lips brushed her forehead.
“Achsah, you are a blessing to father and mother. I heard Naamah tell father that she didn’t know what she would do without your strength. I am very proud of you.”
She smiled sheepishly.
“Thanks. I guess I was feeling unappreciated.”
“Don’t do that,” he responded. “You and mother are the glue that holds this family together. But don’t tell anyone I said that.”
She laughed as she embraced him. He tilted her head and kissed her on the nose before his lips finally locked onto hers. For several moments, the two lingered in this embrace.
&&&
During the night, Achsah slipped out of bed, put on her robe, and headed down the ramps to the first deck. Stopping by the lions cage, she watched as the lion and his mate slept peacefully. Such peace in the midst of a storm. Dear Lord, grant us such peace in our spirits.
Resuming her walk, she headed aft to a small storage chamber. Occasionally she would stop and watch as the large animals slept. It didn’t matter whether it was a lion, an elephant, a giraffe, or any other large animal. They were all asleep.
“Noah says you are hibernating. I don’t know what that really means other than you are asleep, but he says that is what God calls it.”
Continuing on, she finally reached the stern of the ship. Before her was a small enclosure that the men had set aside for storage. Parting the simple curtain that acted as a door, she entered. Carefully setting her lamp down, she looked around. From floor to ceiling were stacks of food and provender for the animals. Stepping into the middle of the room, she knelt and prostrated herself.
“Dear Father God,” she whispered, “I wish I had the faith of my husband or of Noah, but You know I am afraid. Hagaba is sick, Naamah doesn’t feel well, and while Bithiah is fine, she looks to me for leadership.
“Dear God, I feel so inadequate. I will do whatever You want, but I need Your constant presence.”
She paused a moment before adding “amen.” Then she lay there listening, hearing only her heart beat.
Suddenly she felt a hand upon her shoulder. Startled, she looked up, expecting to see Shem’s or Noah’s face, surprised they had found her so quickly. Instead, she found herself looking into the face of an angel!
“Fear not, Achsah. Your righteousness is known of God and He, the Almighty, has sent me, Gabriel, in response to your prayer. He loves you and will strengthen and guide you throughout your life. Indeed, others shall look to you for leadership, and Your God shall supply all your need. Only be thou faithful and not doubting.”
Tears flowing from her eyes, she looked at the angel.
“But what does God want of me?”
“He desires your heart and mind. Give yourself to Him and let Him take care of your fears. He has called you to be a strength to others. You shall know heart-ache, but He shall sustain and guide you.
“God is preparing your husband to serve Him. If he is faithful, he will live a long life and shall be a blessing to others. But he will need you by his side. Be strong and of good cheer; support your husband in all that he does.”
“I do; I will,” she said with rising conviction.
Just as suddenly as he had appeared, the angel was gone. Achsah got up, feeling a strength and a confidence she had not previously known.
&&&
A few days later, Hagaba recovered. Although weak from her agonizing sickness, she tried to get up and return to work. But she was thwarted as everyone insisted she take it easy for a couple more days. Reluctantly, she gave in.
Everything soon returned to normal; at least as normal as shipboard life can be. It soon became apparent that Achsah had become Naamah’s most reliable helper. The two women were often seen together, while Hagaba and Bithiah usually worked alone. Achsah enjoyed listening to Naamah’s conversation and her stories about the ancient world.
The two women were responsible for the care and feeding of the animals in the bow of the ship. Actually, Naamah was responsible for the most forward area of the bottom deck, while Achsah took care of the deck above. For years they had shared duties around Noah’s Vineyard, so it was quite natural for the two of them to work together on the ship.
“The animals are still sleeping,” Achsah commented. “It seems so wasteful to throw out their uneaten food.”
“Yes,” agreed Naamah. “I asked Noah about that and he doesn’t want to take any chances of disease. But at least we don’t have to put out much. He thinks they will sleep right on through the voyage.”
“So we just put out a little?”
“Yes. From now on we will just put out a handful of feed. Noah says he will inform the others.”
“How long do you think the voyage will be?” Achsah asked.
“At least one hundred and fifty days. That’s what Methuselah wrote. But Noah says it could be longer.”
“What do you think it will be like?”
“What?”
“The world. When we finally leave the ship, what will we find?”
“I don’t know, Achsah. Nor does Noah. I have asked him and he just says we will have to trust the Lord.”
Achsah opened a cage door and gingerly stepped inside. Lying only a few feet away was a sleeping lion and a lioness. She carefully moved closer until only inches away. Pausing, her heart pounding, she watched for any movement. But the two beasts slept on, oblivious to her presence.
Using her broom, she began sweeping the floor, allowing the debris to fall through the slots in the floor, which led directly to the small waste compartment below. Meanwhile, Naamah emptied the food bowls before replenishing them.
Although the work was boring and hard on their backs, the time passed quickly as they talked and reminisced. Sometimes they were interrupted as one of the men would stop by and inspect the ship for leakage. Other times the men would come with buckets and shovels to clean out the waste compartments.
The women were also responsible for preparing foods and washing clothes. In other words, life had returned to normal for the women.
But for the men it wasn’t normal at all. All were farmers not used to shipboard life. They couldn’t farm land since it was under water, or engage in commerce. Fortunately none were seasick and had quickly developed a degree of “sea legs,” at least enough that they could move about the ship confidently.
But Noah, realizing how much out of their element his sons were, decreed that every day he and his sons would explore the ship and check for any leakage. They would descend to the first deck and slowly inspect for any sign of moisture. Whenever they encountered joints from the supporting beams, they would place their hands on the wood, feeling for moisture. This was time consuming, as they would carefully inspect the entire ship.
It was also their responsibility to make sure everything was secure. Like the women, they divided the ship into sections, four to be exact. Each day they would work a section, usually from its forward position and work aft. Because it required painstaking and minute inspections, it took the four men four weeks to do a full inspection. Even when they teamed up, it still took a month. But Noah felt the constant inspections were too important and they continued for several months before he was satisfied with their safety.
Combining waste pickup with inspections proved to be a wise decision. Although hibernating, the animals still managed to relieve themselves. The larger animals would do so every few days, while the smaller ones did so daily. The amazing thing was that some did this without waking up. Those that did wake up would move to a favorite spot, relieve themselves, and return to their straw beds.
Periodically, with bucket and shovel in hand, the men would visit each cell and clean the small compartments beneath the floors. They would then clean out these cells and dump the waste into leather buckets, which would then be carried outside and dumped.
This last chore was difficult, because the only door to the Ark was sealed shut and the window was only 1½ feet high. This meant that one of the men had to slip through the opening, have the small buckets passed through to him, and then dump the waste over the side. Unfortunately for Noah, he was the smallest of the men, so even his position as patriarch didn’t prevent him from this unsavory job.

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Did You Do It?

August 2nd, 2012

Did you go out and enjoy a Chik-Fil-A meal?  I did along with an estimated other 600,000 people.  The place I frequented was wall to wall people and long lines at the drive through.  Over on the mainland down here, it’s quite hot this time of year.  There was outdoor seating, but after checking out the hot metal seats, people chose to eat in their cars or take the meal home.

I’m one of the drive through customers.  It was amazing just how quickly the line progressed.  The employees were handling it all very well and happily at that.  No one seemed flustered by it all.

I will always support some one’s right to voice his or her opinions.  I don’t have to agree with them to support their constitutional right.

Check out pictures of the crowd here at WND and Townhall.

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