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When Love Calls

By Lorna Seilstad

Book #1 in THE GREGORY SISTERS series

With historic details that bring to life the exciting first decade of the twentieth century, Lorna Seilstad weaves a charming tale of camaraderie and companionship that blossoms into love. Readers will get lost in this sweet romance and will eagerly look forward to championing the Gregory sisters’ dreams.
Hannah Gregory is good at many things, but that list doesn’t include following rules. So when she is forced to apply for a job as a telephone switchboard operator to support her two sisters, she knows it won’t be easy. “Hello Girls” must conduct themselves according to strict, and often bewildering, rules. No talking to the other girls. No chatting with callers. No blowing your nose without first raising your hand. And absolutely no consorting with gentlemen while in training.

Meanwhile, young lawyer Lincoln Cole finds himself in the unfortunate position of having to enforce the bank’s eviction of the three Gregory girls from their parents’ home. He tries to soften the blow by supporting them in small ways as they settle into another home. But fiery Hannah refuses his overtures and insists on paying back every cent of his charity.

When one of Hannah’s friends finds himself on the wrong side of a jail cell, Hannah is forced to look to Lincoln for help. Will it be her chance to return to her dreams of studying law? And could she be falling in love?

ISLAND BREEZES

The world of Hello Girls is fascinating. It’s also restrictive. If one makes the cut and gets into the phone operator’s school, it’s still no guarantee she’ll end up with a job.

They are told up front that half of their class won’t make it. Hannah really needs this job to put food on the table and care for her sisters. After her parents death, the bank repossessed the farm and house, so she’s desperate for the job.

Big problem – all the rules and regulations. Hannah can’t seem to stay out of trouble. The two men hanging around her create another problem. There’s that rule about no male callers during a woman’s time in school.

Hannah/s attempts to stay out of trouble while fighting her attraction to one of these men makes a good story. Then there’s that danger that gets one of the men tossed into jail.
I’m looking forward to reading more about the Gregory sisters.

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

About Lorna Seilstad: A history buff, antique collector, and freelance graphic designer, Lorna Seilstad is the author of Making Waves, A Great Catch, and The Ride of Her Life. A former high school English and journalism teacher, she has won several online writing contests and is a member of American Christian Fiction Writers. Lorna lives in Council Bluffs, Iowa, with her husband. Find out more at www.lornaseilstad.com.

Available May 2013 at your favorite bookseller from Revell, a division of Baker Publishing Group

First posted June 12, 2008

Normally I’m not too crazy about going to the dentist.  I’ve been thinking about making a dental appointment and that led my thoughts to an appointment at my dentist in Cozumel, Mexico.  Another nurse  and I had back to back appointments that day.  Connie and I scheduled early appointments so that we could go to our favorite restaurant for lunch.  I don’t remember what we had done that morning, but the aftermath was unforgettable.  Connie and I had our dental work done on opposite sides of our mouths.  Think mirror images.

While walking from the dentist office to Gerardo’s we discovered some interesting ways the numbness of our mouths affected us.  For one thing, it made talking and laughing interesting.  It’s amazing just how much slobber a person’s mouth can produce.  It’s not something a person notices as a rule.  Numbness can change that.  It all wants to run out one side of your mouth.  Ask Connie.  She knows.  My left side was numb.  Her right side was numb.  It was like looking in a mirror and watching myself drool and laugh and then drool some more.

So, now we are at Gerardo’s, laughing and acting like fools with our crazy mouths.  Fortunately, Joseph was working that day and seated us in the courtyard where we had a bit more privacy.  Joseph was more than our waiter since we ate there so often.  He was more like friend and family, so he had a good time with it all.  Now we both wanted to order the garlic shrimp, but the dentist had said liquids only for lunch.  What do you think two ship nurses sitting at the best restaurant in town with instructions to maintain a liquid diet would order for lunch?  I don’t know about you, but we don’t drink the water in Mexico.  Connie decided we needed a margarita.

There are several things you need to know about me and margaritas.  I was a ship’s nurse who hated to be on duty while in Cozumel because the passengers felt it was their solemn duty to try to drink up all the tequila on the island.  They would take party boat trips during the day and drink in the sun and heat.  Then they would go to Carlos and Charlies and drink tequila half the night before coming back onboard sicker than dogs.  Cozumel night was not my favorite time to be on call.  Second thing.  These babies are not served in a normal size glass at Gerardo’s.  You are drinking out of a small mixing bowl on a stem.  They are huge.

Since I couldn’t come up with an alternative, Connie won that one.  Okay, now we are drooling and looking at our drinks.  First major problem was how to keep the straw in our mouths so we could proceed with lunch.  That was solved by holding the straw in place with one hand and pinching the lips closed with the other long enough to suck up our nourishment.  It didn’t take me long to figure out why the glass rims had salt on them.  That stuff tastes awful!  The salt is there so you can hurry up and get the tequila taste out of your mouth.  Funny how I used up more salt than Connie did.  I think I might have had to use some of her salt, too.  We had to work at this carefully.  If we looked at each other, it was so darned funny.  It’s difficult to hold the straw, pinch the lips together, slurp it up and laugh all at the same time.  What was so amazing was how much better it tasted after I finally got about half of that stuff down.  Heck, we decided since we had to suffer and miss our garlic shrimp, we might as well have a second.  Strange thing about the second one.  It tasted good from the beginning.

Day 5 winner is Nova. She will be receiving the gate and Goodnight, Brian. Congratulations, Nova. Now you’ve won twice.

Welcome to Pearl Girls™ Mother of Pearl Mother’s Day blog series—a nine-day celebration of moms and mothering. Each day will feature a new post by some of today’s best writers (Tricia Goyer, Lisa Takeuchi Cullen, Beth Vogt, Lesli Westfall, and more). I hope you’ll join us each day for another unique perspective on Mother’s Day.

AND . . . do enter the contest for a chance to win a beautiful handcrafted pearl necklace and a JOYN India bag. Enter at the bottom of this post. The contest runs 5/4-5/13, and the winner will be announced on 5/14. Contest is only open to U.S. residents.

If you are unfamiliar with Pearl Girls™, please visit www.pearlgirls.info, subscribe to our blog, and see what we’re all about. In short, we exist to support the work of charities that help women and children in the US and around the globe. Consider purchasing a copy of Mother of Pearl: Luminous Lessons and Iridescent Faith to help support Pearl Girls™.

Mother Ship by Melody Murray

Mother Ship (N.) – a ship that serves or carries one or more smaller ships.

Raising two boys in India is quite nice, really. We have monkeys, scooters, plenty of dirt, and mountains. The challenges are comical. I found very quickly on that if you don’t laugh, you’ll cry. It’s been an excellent motto for our three years thus far, one I learned shortly after our arrival here in June of 2010.

We’d been in India for just three days when I had my first major meltdown. Our two boys, ages three and four, were sitting in big plastic buckets in our smelly bathroom, covered with mosquito bites, jetlagged as can be. I was frantically pouring cold water over them, trying to scrub off the India grime that had caked on their scrawny little bodies. I was having to hold them like puppy dogs so they wouldn’t scurry out from underneath the cold water. It was a far cry from the sweet, warm, bubbly, happy bath time we’d experienced together for the past four years in the States! Talk about culture shock. They were in shock. I was in shock. I’m sure the neighbors were in shock, too. I’m not sure my boys have ever seen me scream, cry, and stomp that much. Thank God it is just a memory now.

Somehow, by God’s grace, we’ve figured out life here. It looks much different than I had ever thought it would look, especially as a mother. We don’t go to the library, make elaborate crafts, play T-ball, shop at Target, sing in church choir, or take family bike rides. I have had to redefine my ideal upbringing for my children and have had to let go of many expectations. But I’ve managed to grasp hold of a new set of dreams.

My children are global kids. They have an incredible adventure every day. They see the “majority world” firsthand. I think they are some of the most privileged kids I know. I’ve stopped feeling sorry for myself that my kids don’t get to go to ballgames or have a huge tree house or wear cute clothes. Why focus on what I think they’ve lost, only to lose sight of what they’re gaining?

My attitude shift didn’t come easily. I can be quite stubborn. I clung to what I knew and what I thought was “normal” and “right,” as all of us moms do. I’d cry after phone conversations with friends back home who had their children signed up for karate, soccer, and swim lessons, with loads of choices for good schools, churches, and neighborhoods. I had nothing of the sort available for my kids, and I felt bitter and resentful.

But then I slowly began to change. Slowly, after months of getting over culture shock and cold baths, we began to love this place and the people we were with. We began to know them, understand them, become like them. Our community here became our family. Just this week, I’ve been sick with an awful kidney infection, and my living room has been full of my Tibetan, Nepali, and Indian friends, bringing me food, rubbing my feet, playing with my children, washing my dishes. I’ve never experienced community in this way before. My boys are loved so well by so many. And they are learning how to love back, even when it’s not easy.

My attitude shift didn’t come quickly, but when it happened, it took a 180°. I realized how wrong I’d been. These people I live with—their kids don’t have organized sports, church choirs, or fancy vacations either. Their kids aren’t signed up for after-school activities and aren’t becoming multi-skilled elementary school prodigies. Yet, in spite of this, they are content. Like none I’ve ever seen. They love each other. Like none I’ve ever seen. They have very little, yet they have so very much.

In the western world of comparisons and endless striving, I believe we sometimes lose touch of the things we actually care most about. I know most of us moms actually don’t care whether our children are the best at T-ball or whether their crafts look better than the next kid’s. But I think we all care deeply that our kids are loved, and that they know how to love. We all have a common dream that our kids will grow up to be world-changers, to strive for what is right, to love the unloved, to see the world in a different way. These are the deepest dreams of moms. So let’s not forget that the most important things we can give our kids are not the things we can buy them or sign them up for. One of the greatest gifts we can give to our children is to give them sails, let them explore new things, meet new people, and learn to make lasting change in this world.

So join me this Mother’s Day. Let’s all be “mother ships,” leading our kids to new adventures, new beginnings, new relationships. Let’s serve and carry our little ones to places they can only dream of, whether it be making dinner for a neighbor, smiling at the homeless man in front of the grocery store, volunteering at a soup kitchen, or moving to India. Let’s take them with us and teach them how to sail.

“A ship in port is safe, but that’s not what ships are built for.” —Grace Murray Hopper

In June 2010, an opportunity arose to work with a small needy community in the Himalayas, so David and Melody Murray and their two young boys packed their bags and moved to Rajpur, North India. Mel has grown JOYN, fulfilling her passion to connect artisans with western markets. They now have a diverse and growing team of Americans, Australians, Indians, Tibetans and Nepalis working together to create a community that strives to take care of each other and bring opportunity to as many as they can. Visit her website for more information.
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First posted June 5, 2008

I was drawn to Cuba first because I adored the madcap adventures of Lucy and Desi. I did love Lucy and her romantic husband from Cuba. I had dreams of some day traveling to Cuba and experiencing some of that glamour.  And we can’t forget Hemingway’s Cuba.  It used to be a playground for Americans before politics (theirs and ours) changed things.   For the most part we are locked out of travel there.  I remember when the ships I worked on changed itinerary.  We were positioned to make Cuba one of our ports whenever the country opened up to us.  After a couple years we crew members lamented the fact that the Miami Cubans pretty much run our government’s policy on Cuba and gave up on the dream of having Cuba as one of our ports.

Cuba became more enticing as I made friends in Jamaica and learned how easy it would be for me to visit there.  It was just a matter of going to Port Antonio and taking a ship over.  I knew that I couldn’t have Cuba stamped on my passport, but so does Cuba.  They just stamp a tourist card and leave your passport blank.  Oh, how very tempting.

Every week in Ocho Rios I would meet my friend, Cyd, at Bill’s Place.  We would visit until I had to get back to my ship before shore leave expired.  Some times Bill would join us.  Once after being gone for several weeks, Bill told us about a trip he had just made to Cuba.  That was one of his regular travel destinations.  Well, this last trip was a little different.  He decided he was going to marry his Cuban lady friend, sell Bill’s Place and buy a home in Cuba.  He showed us his photos, both of his beautiful lady and her beautiful country.  Of course, not all was perfect in Cuba.  But really.  Is it perfect any place?

Bill’s move to Cuba just added fuel to my desire to see that country.  Did I ever go?  The thought of breaking the law was scary, but the thought of finally getting to Cuba and not being able to leave was even scarier.  I just knew I would end up having something go wrong and then get arrested at the Miami airport and put into jail for a nice long time.  Did I ever go?  No, I chickened out.  Do I still want to go?  Absolutely.  There’s even a little glimmer of hope now that Fidel is no longer officially in power.  But the Miami Cubans are a tough bunch.  They won’t even sell you anything in a shop downtown if you don’t speak Spanish.  We’ll talk about that some other time.

Day 4 winner is Nova. She will be receiving Pause for Power and Psalm 91 for Mothers.

Congratulations, Nova.

because if you confess with your lips that Jesus is Lord and believe in your heart that God raised him from the dead, you will be saved.

For one believes with the heart and so is justified, and one confesses with the mouth and so is saved.

The scripture says, “No one who believes in him will be put to shame.”

For there is no distinction between Jew and Greek; the same Lord is Lord of all and is generous to all who call on him.

For, “Everyone who call on the name of the Lord shall be saved.”

Romans 10:9-13

Kathryn Lawson George

This is the day set aside to honor our mothers. My mother is now resting in the arms of Jesus. Please be a blessing to your mother while you can.

Welcome to Pearl Girls™ Mother of Pearl Mother’s Day blog series—a celebration of moms and mothering. Each day will feature a new post by some of today’s best writers. I hope you’ll join us each day for another unique perspective on Mother’s Day.

AND . . . do enter the contest for a chance to win a beautiful handcrafted pearl necklace and a JOYN India bag. Enter at the bottom of this post. The contest runs 5/4-5/13, and the winner will be announced on 5/14. Contest is only open to U.S. residents.

If you are unfamiliar with Pearl Girls™, please visit www.pearlgirls.info, subscribe to our blog, and see what we’re all about. In short, we exist to support the work of charities that help women and children in the US and around the globe. Consider purchasing a copy of Mother of Pearl: Luminous Lessons and Iridescent Faith to help support Pearl Girls™.

My Final Words to My Mother By Lisa Takeuchi Cullen

The day had come.

My mother lay pressed against her pillow, her skin like baking paper, her limbs disposable chopsticks. She had not moved or spoken for days.

In those last days we rarely left her side, my three siblings and I. Between us we had eleven children, the youngest my newborn, whom we had baptized a week ago right here by my mother’s bedside. The children tumbled and danced around the hospice floor, admonished by us to keep quiet, keep quiet! They had already said their good-byes to Nana. Now it was our turn.

The hospice nurses had told us of the final signs. She will cease to wake, even briefly. Her fingers and toes will turn blue. Her breathing will grow shallow and ragged.

Then we heard it. My mother took a breath. That’s all it was—a sip of air. We knew it was time. We rushed around her, my siblings and I, and all together began to sob.

And this is what I said to my mother before she died: “I’ll be all right, Mommy. Don’t worry. Don’t worry about me. I’ll be all right.”

Not “I love you.” Not “I’ll miss you.” Not “thank you for everything.” Why? I asked myself that night as I cradled my colicky newborn, both of us wailing. Why did I choose that moment to inform my mother of my own well-being? Why did I feel this was the very thing she needed to know as she drew her last breath?

It took me years as a parent to understand: As mothers, that is exactly what we want to know. We want to know our children are safe. We need to know they’ll be all right as they journey into the world without us by their sides.

I don’t know if my mother heard me. But if she did, I hope my final words eased her journey just a hair. That she believed and trusted in my well-being, and then let go.

Lisa Takeuchi Cullen is the author of Pastors’ Wives, a new novel from Penguin/Plume, and The Ordained, a 2013 CBS drama pilot. Previously, she was a staff writer for Time magazine. Readers can friend her on Facebook, follow her on Twitter @lisacullen, or visit her website at www.lisacullen.com.

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First posted June 4, 2008

Just writing those words makes my mouth water.  Ackee and saltfish is the national dish of Jamaica.  Throw in the rice and peas and I can hardly stand it.  Jerk chicken at the Pork Pit in Mo Bay.  Buffet at the WW in Ochie.  I’m craving some good home cooking like my mother never cooked.  I’ve spent enough time working and playing in Jamaica and the West Indies that when I think of home cooking, that’s where my mind turns.  Oh, and some proper carrot juice.  Not the health food stuff!  The good stuff that comes from the Caribbean.  When I moved back to this area I was so looking forward to many visits to Cephas’ Hot Spot, a small Jamaican restaurant where my taste buds were never disappointed.  But, alas, the irony of it all.  The Hot Spot disappeared in a fire while I was out running around the Caribbean.

I made a short stay in Ormond Beach, FL before moving back home.  I found a very good, authentic restaurant there where I could purchase a meal along with a few groceries.  I was even able to buy hard dough bread.  It was the same brand I used to buy from the grocery in Ocho Rios.  Two things they didn’t have were Blue Mountain coffee or the carrot juice.  They had tried selling the carrot juice when they first opened, but gave up on it as there just weren’t enough people trying it.  There isn’t a very big West Indian community there, and as the owner/cook told me, “Not enough of the Americans know what’s good.”  Oh, my.  What they’re missing!

Times change and I’ve been gone from home too long.  At least the butcher shop where I buy goat to curry is still there.  I’m still looking and will not stop until I find the little grocery stores and restaurants that carry all the good things.  Until then, I still have a bit of a supply on hand.  I’m off to the kitchen to rustle up some ackee and saltfish.  It’s usually a breakfast dish, but I could eat it three times a day and be ready for more the next day.