My Crown

My Crown

 

 

 

 

 

When I was a little girl the television show called “Queen for a Day” was big. Mama and I watched it every day. The contestants, if memory serves, told about their needs. The lady with the most pathetic story won the prize.

They gave her kitchen appliances and things like that. I couldn’t care less about those as a three or four year old. The object I focused on was THE CROWN! I didn’t even care that much about the robe they put on her. The crown was the big deal for me.

Mama and I also watched the Miss America pageant. (Daddy was usually at work and wouldn’t have wanted to watch anyway.) That crown was a prize I coveted, but I didn’t want to have to wear a swimsuit to get it. Besides, I knew that even though any of my sisters would have been pretty enough to win it, I wouldn’t measure up to their beauty.

I found myself longing for that crown. At that time I told Mama I wanted a “prown”. I really started out young with this desire. I must have talked about it non-stop. I wondered if I ever would obtain a crown of my own.

One day, an opportunity presented itself. A wonderful woman known to me as Sister Little came to our church and held a children’s crusade. At the front of the church, on the back of the platform, were two ornate chairs. Each chair bore a crown.

She informed us that one crown was for a boy and one was for a boy. The way to earn the crown was to memorize the Bible verses she gave to us. THIS WAS MY CHANCE!

Mama helped me all during the days of the crusade to learn a verse. I knew I had won the crown. On the last day each of us stood before Sister Little and said our verse. Most of the children my age crashed and burned.

Finally, it was my turn. I proudly said, “In the beginning was the Word and the Word was with God and the Word was God.” She smiled and told me I did a great job. The next kid said, “In the beginning was the Word and the Word was with God and the Word was God. The same was in the beginning…”

Wait! I thought.  There is more? How did I not know this? The last child recited more than anyone. She won the crown! I was crestfallen. The second place child was given a princess crown.

When I got home I cried real tears. Jim, my brother who was in high school and was the only sibling still living at home, must have felt sorry for me. He went to the corner drug store and purchased the crown pictured above for me.

My eyes almost popped out of my head when I saw the beautiful prize. I couldn’t believe that this teenager, who considered me a pest, loved me enough to give me the desire of my heart. I never looked at him the same again.

I wore it almost every waking moment. When I was in fourth grade the teacher assigned me the part of Queen Isabella in the school play. I was ready with my crown. Mama sewed a red taffeta gown for me to wear to complete the look. I had finally become a real queen.

I learned that those who love the Lord will receive a crown when they get to heaven. Now, I KNEW that would be the ultimate crown. Through my growing up years I kept that prize in mind. Of course I wanted to be with Jesus and I thought the crown He would give to me would be so sweet to have.

It might have been silly, but this thought was in the back of my mind even when I was eighteen and going to Bible College. Our choir travelled and sang in many towns. We had several quartets and trios that also performed. One quartet sang a song that struck me between my eyes. They sang, “We’ll cast our crowns at His nailed scared feet. Our joy complete in His presence sweet. Eternity’s greatest privilege will be casting our crowns at His feet.”

Somehow I had never read the Scripture this referenced. The crown had been my goal in life. It may seem silly, but I am being honest. At first I wasn’t sure I wanted to give my crown to the Lord.

As I held tightly to this future crown, I thought of my Friend, my Savior, The One Who loves me. How could I hold on to something like that when all glory and honor and praise belong to Him?

If giving this prize to Him brings Him any representation of my gratitude to Him, I gladly lay it at His feet. I think of the words of a hymn we sang when I was young: “Oh I want to see Him, look upon His face. There to sing forever of His saving grace…” Even a perfect crown, created by Him, is not as precious as Jesus.

 

 

Digging Into the Past

Last year I stepped out of my comfort zone and began to write a "modern day" book. Six Miles from Nashville is set in the 1970s. When I told my sons I was writing something modern, they told me that 1970s was not MODERN. I beg to differ.

 Those were my Jr. High and High School years. The process of writing this book was more difficult than I could imagine. Stepping back into those years brought back a lot of memories I hadn't thought about in a long time. Most of the memories were great...and then...there were some I would rather forget. Lest you think the book is a autobiography of my life, I want to assure you it is NOT.

 The mood of the people of the time is from my perspective. I was and still am, a small town girl in the heartland of the USA. I wrote the book from that frame of mind. I love the area where I live and the people who are determined enough to live here. In those days, everyone didn't have internet or more than four television channels. We believed everything that was on the news and in the newspapers.

Styles and language didn't travel to our little town until it was old news in California and New York. I remember a time when two teens came to speak to our youth group. They were from California. My best friend and I tried to take notes on the really neat slang they were saying. We thought their expressions were the best thing since sliced bread. Today things are so different. People learn styles and all of that in real time. I think having the Wards and Sears catalogs did help a lot of us be sort of current.

  In my town, not everyone was a member of the YMCA and could play sports. (Now days, those who can't afford it are provided for.) My parents had enough money for me to be in the Y, but that wasn't a priority for them. I was not very coordinated, so it wasn't a priority for me either. I do know that not everyone who was on a team was allowed to play. Most of the high school football players were on the bench waiting of an opportunity to play if the stars needed a break. That was before the days where everyone received a trophy for just showing up. The trophy holders really did earn the trophy.

  Since I am ranting, I have difficulty understanding how the High School graduates these days have a grade point average well over 100%. Our top grads made from 90%to 99.99%. There were no honors classes or bonus points to be earned. About half or less of the graduates went to college. The rest managed to build a life without it. They entered the trades of carpentry, oil field work, plumbers, electricians, farming and a host of other blue collar work. Some of these people were honor grads.

  I was able to go to Bible College because the denomination I was a part of had a small Bible College in Kansas that accepted free will offerings as tuition. My dad was retired and we didn't have a lot of extra money for my education, so this was a good fit. I am very blessed that I went there because that is the place I met the love of my life. We were engaged while we attended there.

 Things were different back then. Christian morality was taken seriously. Christians didn't live together without marriage. We tried to dress modestly in the age of mini skirts and tight jeans. We weren't perfect, but we knew right from wrong. We took responsibility for our actions. Our parents taught us that if we made wrong decisions, they were our decisions and nobody's fault but our own. Sometimes I wish for those days, but I am so glad for my life now. I will dig into the past to write books, but I don't want to dwell thee.

One Author's Journey Between Books

It is difficult to admit sometimes that when life gets busy, Bible study time is put on the shelf. It seems that for three weeks it has been a struggle to get back to consistency in this daily practice. I could use the excuse that I have been on vacation for two of those weeks and brought three grandchildren home with me, but two of them are teens and the youngest is soon to be eight. They are hardly what you would consider high maintenance.

One day this week I pulled out my Bible and my copy of Streams in the Desert and began another attempt to get back into the groove of daily devotions. Looking at the last page I read in the devotional reading book made me realize just how long it had been since I had carved out time for it. Mind you, there have been countless prayers going up during my lack of devotional time, but it just wasn't the same as listening to the words of the Lord. It was more like a one-sided conversation. (I really hate to do all the talking because I already know all my stuff and find that I am not that interesting.) I knew I NEEDED  to hear the voice of God.

My Bible reading was in I John. It was like a refreshing rain breaking a drought. My soul drank the Word and felt refreshed yet, I knew I was still parched deep down. It reminded me of going out to our pasture next to our dried up garden and seeing the inch wide cracks that have developed during the past few summers. I was watering the horse that day and decided to fill in that one crack with water. I stood there with the water hose going full blast for several minutes and the water never did get the gash in the ground full. I have to admit that it sort of scared me to think that our ground was that dry.

I know my soul is similar to that wounded patch of earth. I need a refilling of the Holy Spirit. I also know that God does not hold back when we ask. I opened the devotional book after reading the first and second chapter of I John. On the reading marked for June 9. The Scripture reading was Psalm 37:3 - "Trust in the Lord and do good; dwell in the land and enjoy safe pasture." In the words for this date, the writer expressed the thought of  "borrowing trouble". My daddy always told us not to "borrow trouble", so this was not a new thought.

The line, "I'll bear the sorrow that comes tomorrow, but I'll borrow none today." penetrated through the dryness of my spirit. I was reminded that I am not responsible for how things turn out for my children or grandchildren or any of the people I love. I had let worry of these things sap strength out of me. I know the words were penned back in the 1920s, but they were relevant to me on Monday of this week. It was as if the Holy Spirit was pouring water and oil into my thirsty, cracked heart. I was refreshed. Thank you, God for your mercy and tender-loving care!
Elaine Littau, author

One Life Can Make a Difference

Last month a thirty four year old woman passed from this life to the next. She held an insignificant job, wasn't married, and had no children. Everyone in town knew her and she spoke to everyone she saw when she was out and about.

There were dozens of email messages about her to her grandma and grandpa, mother and dad, and sister. I read a lot of them. Most of them spoke of her friendliness and her devotion to worship of Jesus. The messages reflected her life accurately. I contemplated the reach she had.

The major thing I thought of was that she was uninhibited. She had Downs Syndrome. Because of this, she didn't grow up with the 'insecure' filter. When she saw people, she believe in her heart that they surely wanted to have a conversation with her. She remembered names and greeted each person by name. I found that even if I was busy, I could enjoy a quick exchange. She was conscious of time and schedules people keep. Her parents and grandparents did a really good job in this instruction.

She was a sweet worshipper and was able to express herself with abandon. Her arms were lifted and her face upturned. The smile of her face as she communed with God was that of an angel. As I thought of this, my heart broke a little. I am reminded of how 'people conscience' I am. I have observed friends who are able to open  up like a flower as songs and prayers are offered in our church services. I have been in their place many times, but allowed wounds to hold me back.

I have been in my new church for three years and still don't know every one's name. It is not a mega church. In fact, it is a small church. My resistance to opening up to people is self-protection. It is also based on an illness I struggled with for fifteen years. The Lord healed me. Praise to the Lord. Now, I have no excuse. The thoughts that go through my mind are things like, "They already have their friends. They don't need me. They are so much younger than me. They are in a different stage of life. They are busy. I am busy..." These are things my little friend never allowed to hold her back.

I am sure there were people who were rude to her, but she didn't let it change her love for them. It didn't change her actions and her expression of love. I learned a lot from her and am going to attempt to break out of the prison of my mind that says that it is better to be quiet and let things go. The prison of this kind is made of stronger stuff than iron bars, but with God's help, it can be done.
Elaine Littau, author

One Author's Journey #10

This is the tenth post I have written about my writing journey. At this time I am writing and assembling thoughts and facts for book ten. The title is Christmas in Nashville. It is Book II in The Nashville Series. I began this book by going through magazines and clipping out pictures of people. I chose children, men, women, and teens to glue into the thick blue journal I use for the contemporary fiction books I have begun to write. I sort the photos into "families" and "couples". Then, I write characteristics about them and a sketch of their story line.

The next thing I did for this series is to research facts about the Vietnam War. I read a book and several articles on it. This helped me write a timeline for events in the books for this series. To say the least, I have learned so much from this process. It made it easier to plot the book.

This book has been churning in my mind off and on for months, but it has been he most difficult for e to put words to. I have chalked it up to fatigue. Because of this, I have stepped back for a little bit to allow the story to develop more organically. I have facts in place, but it needs heart.

Another book is partially written and was actually going to fit as an independent book between Walk Slowly Through the Dark and Christmas in Nashville, but readers were anxious to get the next installment of the Nashville Series, so I opted to allow myself plenty of time to write Christmas in Nashville this summer.

Sometimes I feel like one of those performers in a circus act whose job it is to keep a bunch of plates spinning. I have had this feeling even as a mother of young children. Now, the 'children' are the books I have been blessed to write. It actually is a delicate balance of writing, re-writing, marketing, and relationship with other authors as well as readers. The last plate that gets ignored until it is ready to topple is the 'recharge plate'. This summer, I am plugging in to The Power Source more than ever. God is the reason for everything in my life. I know this summer will be an important step in the next step of my journey as an author.
Elaine Littau, author

One Author's Journey #9

When Walk Slowly Through the Dark was published, I could hardly believe that it was book #9. This book was one that jerked at my heart. The content of this book is personal to me. I suppose you could say from reading all the posts I have written about my journey of writing that all of my books reveal a part of me.

Hard subjects are addressed in this title. Dementia is one of them. My mother lived to be 93 years old. She passed away seven years ago this May. In her last few years there were times when she didn't know me. She spoke of loved ones sitting next to her who had passed away many years before. One day I went to see her at the rest home and she was sitting on a bench "Waiting for the train..." The trouble was, she had several others waiting with her. If I went to see her in the early hours of the morning, she was her old self. She knew me and we had lovely visits. Otherwise, it was a sad visit and she thought I was a stranger.

Another issue tackled in this book is how easily communication can be lost or never established between a husband and wife. Terry and I have been married thirty seven years. There are still times when we struggle with communication. It is possible to not know the thoughts and intents of one another's heart. To me, this was an important subject to reveal.

June, the main character of this book, has appeared to be almost too sweet to be true in the other books in the Nan's Heritage Series and the Rescued...a Series of Hope. She needed to reveal her warts and let the readers see what makes her tick. In my limited understanding of quiet people, I had thought that 'quiet' meant sweet and perfect. The saying, "Still waters run deep." was lost on me. I plumbed the depth of that saying and grew to understand it a little better.

It is amazing how writing these books has caused me to look deeper inside myself. I have been challenged to examine why I believe what I believe as well as to decided exactly what I believe about obscure things. I have learned the enjoyment of research and the humbling awe of ideas and creativity coming directly from the inspiration of the Lord. At this posting, I am elbow deep in two different books. I will reveal more about this next week.

Elaine Littau, author

One Author's Journey #8

It was November 2012 and I signed up for NaNoWriMo again. (National Novel Writing Month) Book #8 was supposed to be the next in the Rescued...a Series of Hope saga. I started the book, Walk Slowly Through the Dark, but just couldn't get the story to advance in an interesting way. One day, while I painted the steps from the laundry room up to our bedroom, a new book idea came to mind.

I had been watching the new television show "Nashville" and found it to be interesting. It seemed that a lot of people were watching and I saw a lot of advertisement for the show. It occurred to me that setting the next book in the Nashville area might be a good move. Perhaps people would find it while they looked for information on the television show. I had never written a contemporary book, but decided that it would be a good fit for this year's writing challenge.

When I told our sons that I was writing a modern day book set in 1974 they laughed. They told me it was hardly a current story since it was almost forty years ago. I told them it was set 100 years later than the last book I wrote so it was modern!

I wanted to write a little about how the young people in the heartland of our country felt in the 1970s while the Vietnam War was going on. I was a teen in those years and remember it well. We loved our soldiers and prayed for them all the time. We wore MIA/POW bracelets and rejoiced when one was returned home.

It was also important to me to show things about the farmers of the Oklahoma and Texas panhandle area. Some of my best friends worked the wheat harvest every summer and I was glad to get to experience it once with them. The farmers here are dedicated to their land and families. Even when other dreams of careers danced in the minds of the farmer's young, the land called them back home.

The characters of Six Miles from Nashville became very real to me. Sweetie, the owner of the diner was based on a very sweet woman I worked for after school. Betty could have been any girl from our high school. The song writing was a very different experience for me. Because I am not really confident in those skills, I always referred to the lyrics as the rough copy that Bill would have to work over to make into a good song.

Next week will be about Walk Slowly Through the Dark. In a lot of ways, it took me down a dark path.

Elaine Littau, author

One Author' Journey #7

 

 

Capture the Wandering Heart is the seventh book I wrote. It is set in the Texas Panhandle area of Palo Duro Canyon near present day Amarillo. Area towns of Clarendon and the now extinct boom town of Tascosa are also places that action takes place. It was important to have this book set close to my home. At many book events I was asked why I hadn't written about the panhandle area. I didn't have a good answer for them. I had contemplated writing about the Perryton area, but one day I knew it had to be set in the canyon.

 

I read an article from the Amarillo newspaper about how the Kiowa and Apache were subdued in the area by the U.S. army killing 1500 horses that were kept by them in the canyon. It was the last of the Trail of Tears saga. I knew I had to know more, In the following months I read three books and many more articles about the area in the 1800s.One book was about the Native Americans, one was about a land developer, and the other was about Charles Goodnight. I loved the research.

 

The story also included many folk remedies from the time. My sister was reading a book by "The Good Old Days" that was all about home remedies. There was some wild stuff in there. I had to borrow the book and use some of it in there. One remedy was the "Mad Stone". It was used to save people who contracted rabies. (Google it. You will be surprised.)

 

I found the research so interesting that I almost got bogged down in it. I discovered that in the 1800s, the Congress was considering putting all deaf people in one of the Western states. It would have been called "The Deaf State"! I am so glad that didn't fly.

 

One of my high school friends live near Palo Duro Canyon, so she shot some pictures for the cover. I love that she did this for me. Terry and I selected the close up of one of the caves. The other picture I posted here is the view of the canyon that everyone thinks of.

 

In writing this book, I learned a lot about the area and about myself. It was fun to think up inventions for 1877. I liked having a character who thought 'out of the box'. I found it difficult to write about spousal abuse and how it was handled back then. 

 

God really gave me a lot of wonderful elements for the story line. I know I can't write without His input. In some ways Capture the Wandering Heart is my favorite writing. I had a lot to think about for the next book in the series, but God had a different direction for me to go with book #8. I will tell you all about it next time.

 

Elaine Littau, author

 

 

 

 

 

Spring Cleaning is Not For Wimps

 

 

Here in the Texas Panhandle it seemed that Spring would never arrive. The temperature would reach 70 degrees one day and the next day it snowed. (This happened in May!) Because of this, it has been difficult to believe that the season would ever change.

 

I went to my sister's house and they were in full swing of planting flowers, repairing irrigation to them, fertilizing, reseeding the lawn, and working on fountains. They keep a beautiful yard. They sat down for a break when I came to visit. Seeing all this activity caused me to feel somewhat lazy. So...

 

Yesterday I got out my water hose and began spraying the dirt from the windows and brick. The last time we had a little sprinkle of rain or a dusting of snow, my windows looked like someone had taken a squirt bottle and sprayed the windows with mud. I had to get that off the windows.

 

Little dirty rivers trickled down between the bricks as I sprayed the entire exterior of the house. I got in the screened in porch and swept it clean, sprinkled it the floor with detergent, and blasted it with the water hose. It took awhile to broom off the standing water, but shooting the floor, stucco ceiling, and screens with blasts from the water hose made everything smell so fresh.

 

There was still a little bit of standing water on the porch so I got out my little Mint robot, "Cindy" (short for Cinderella) and had her mop up the rest. The result is a really nice and clean floor on the porch.

 

I then went to the decks and washed them off. We have two small ones that are at two of our doors and one larger one that is outside our dining room and patio doors. I was amazed at the difference rinsing them off with the water hose did.

 

Next, I went to the patio area at the West side of the house. We like to sit there in pretty weather and watch the sun set over the prairie. Our little family had labored many hours in making the patio with a concrete form that shaped the concrete into what is supposed to look like rocks. We didn't get it all that level, so dirt collects in the low spots. We should redo it, but I can still see my teen aged sons and hubby as they work on this. (I helped, too. Stop laughing....I really did!)

 

We have buffalo grass and I am so grateful. It is sturdy stuff that doesn't die when there is a drought. However, even the buffalo grass is looking like it is on its last legs. I decided that I had to water it after I made sure all the trees were watered.

 

People from other places do not think I have many trees, but they haven't had to water them. We have somewhere between 60 to 80. Our cedar windbreak is looking pretty bad. There are many dead limbs. I am desperate to save those trees because they are our privacy for the swimming pool. (One of those above ground kind with the blow up ring. We have a terrible time getting the ph right on it, but that is another story.)

 

I know we live in the country, but a neighbor owns a roping arena next to our house and pool...Sometimes they go out there to practice calf roping or to plow it up. (makes a nice dusty mess for my screened in porch) I can stay in the pool because of those trees. Without them...I would be inside.

 

By the time everything was washed up with the water hose and the sprinkler set...I was pooped. There is no way my yard will compare to my sweet sister's, but I was happy for the hope I have for the coming seasons. I love to take good care of the things God has given us.

 

We have been working on the laundry room. Terry laid a new floor and I have been painting some. My biggest struggle has been with removing the wallpaper border. Grrr.

 

Nothing is more motivating than watching a marathon of "Hoarders" on television. lol Terry was okay with getting rid of some of my excess, but not very inspired about looking over his stuff. I think all of us are a little like this aren't we?

 

Right now, I have a half-painted laundry room, a bunch of boxes of things to donate and only a pocket full of energy to complete everything. I will keep you posted!

One Author's Journey #6

If my dad were alive today, he would be 104. When he was a small boy (There is a dispute in the family as to exactly how small he was.) he was asleep in the back of a wagon. His family did not own an automobile at this time so they were using horses and wagons to move from Kansas to Oklahoma. As he slept, he rolled off the tailgate of the wagon and landed in the tall grasses or the prairie. He hit his head and was knocked out for some time. When he came to himself, the wagon was just disappearing down a dip in the flat land. He followed the trail the wagon wheels made from denting the grass until he reached the camp of his family. They had not missed him because they were occupied with the livestock and gathering cowchips for fuel for the cooking fire.

This story always scared me when my mother recited it at family gatherings. The grass was as tall as my dad was. She said that many children were lost forever in the old days because of situations similar to this. Because of the danger and family connection, I had to use this story in my sixth book, Some Happy Day, Book I of the series, Rescued...a Series of Hope.

I changed the story to me a baby girl who was around fourteen months old. A cowboy who was running from the law found her in the tall grass. She was not old enough to even tell him her name. The story grew from this.

As I worked on this book, I found myself even more engrossed in marketing all the books I had written. I am so thankful for the authors who have written great marketing books as well as for those who have befriended me an helped me hammer out a good marketing plan. I have discovered many kind and generous friends within the 'author community'. It is a pleasure to network with people who do not feel that we are in competition.

Rescued...a Series of Hope is a series that is still in progress. It intersects the books in the Nan's Heritage Series. There were nine girls who were rescued from a bad situation. This series details each girl's life before, during, and after their kidnapping. It as been interesting how ideas in these story lines have developed. I think a lot of the situations and challenges the characters face come from the old timey stories my mother and daddy told us. They also had friends who loved to tell about their lives. I am thankful for the time my parents invested in me.

I had tackled one of the rescued girls in this book. The next book had to follow two of the others. The setting was close to home, so I had to get it right. I will attempt to tackle the job of telling you about those challenges next week.

Elaine Littau