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We live in the Heartland. It's not unusual at all to see someone walking down the street (or into our home) with spurs jingling on their dirty boots and a gun on their hip. A handkerchief isn't just western decor, it's necessary for keeping the dirt out of your nose during dust storms. Our family loves the song, "Jesus was a Country Boy" by Clay Walker. The idea of walking down a dusty road with Y'shua of Nazareth is stirring. What do you 'reckon visit with Him about?




While the children are playing Cowboys, Mom needs a little entertainment too right? Let me suggest this great opportunity for a nice bundle of goodies. There are books in this bundle that the whole family is going to LOVE!




The harsh consequences of other people's sin leaves Nan bitter and broken, but God's amazing Love prevails in her life and overflows into the lives of those around her. Elaine Littau is the author of eleven published books and many magazine and newspaper articles. She is a mentor/coach for other authors and enjoys public speaking for groups. Many enjoy listening to her humorous take on life. Even the simplest activity takes on a life of its own when Elaine is involved in the telling of it.




 




“Trust me,” she heard a voice say to her. When her deaf daughter, 3-year-old Alexis, goes missing, Stella Brigg faces an incredible struggle. Alone, while her husband serves in the armed forces overseas, Stella must depend on Someone greater than anyone she’s ever known. Someone who loves her even more than Don ever did. Only that kind of love can carry her through in her search for Alexis. R.A. Giggie




 




Joshua and Ruth Brookings are traveling by stagecoach to finally join their parents in Montana. Attacked by murderous outlaws, the teens barely escape with their lives and must survive in the barren Wyoming and Montana territories and escape the man who's hunting them.Seven years ago, Jed Stuart ran away from home and joined Tom's gang. Jed is tired of the lawlessness and wants out. The only problem? He is the boss's right-hand man and will never be able to leave. And what's one more stagecoach robbery, anyway?Can Joshua lean on God's strength to keep himself and his sister alive until they find a town? Will Jed be able to face his anger or will it consume him completely? All three are running--the hunter and hunted. What will happen when they meet? Faith Blum




 




Alyce Lomlossa has never dreamed of visiting King Timson. To a member of a minority group that opposes his rule, his brooding, glum palace is associated only with imprisonment and death. Though it's been a long time since any Sherban was arrested, Alyce feels little in common with her ruler and is quite content to stay unnoticed.




Until a mandatory summons to the King's court dance leaves her no choice.




A 20,000 word novella that enlarges the story of Cinderella. Sarah Scheele




 




One Viking woman. One God. One legendary journey to North America.




In the tenth century, when pagan holy women rule the Viking lands, Gudrid turns her back on her training as a seeress to embrace Christianity. Clinging to her faith, she joins her husband, Finn, on a journey to North America.




But even as Gudrid faces down murderous crewmen, raging sickness, and hostile natives, she realizes her greatest enemy is herself--and the secrets she hides might just tear her marriage apart.




Almost five centuries before Columbus, Viking women sailed to North America with their husbands. God's Daughter, Book One in the Vikings of the New World Saga, offers an expansive yet intimate look into the world of Gudrid Thorbjarnardottir--daughter-in-law of Eirik the Red, and the first documented European woman to have a child in North America. Heather Day Gilbert




 




After the brutal massacre in his village, a broken, grieving boy chooses to live with a golden dragon in the wild rather than go to the mountains to be with his own people. If only he had known then what that simple choice meant… Thirteen years later, Keegan, no longer a boy, learns that his younger sister survived the massacre and so sets off to be reunited with her. When Keegan accidentally interrupts a plot against a princess, what should have been a fairly simple trip turns into a complicated struggle for survival. A mysterious elder appears, full of wit and riddle. Mythical monsters shed their fictional skin and hungrily pursue Keegan and his dragon. Haunting nightmares begin to tear at his mind. As he continues on his quest to be reunited with his sister, Keegan is only just beginning to understand what it means to be The Dragons Son. Kathryn Fogleman




 




Fern Valley is home to a group of wonderful animals who have fun and face some of the same problems children everywhere do. Roberta and Mildred Cornstalk are creative chickens dealing with the loss of their beloved granny, and they’re looking for something to do to cheer them up. Want to know what adventures they find? Want to know what happens to Roberta and Mildred’s brother, Edward, when he goes fishing, what birthday surprise is in store for Betsy Woolrich, or what lesson Kimmy Curlytail learns when she keeps something that isn’t hers? Then follow this endearing cast of characters as they enjoy their time together and learn important lessons.

A perfect addition for any child’s personal library and a joy for families to share, Fern Valley is a collection to be treasured for many years to come. Aileen Stewart




 




It’s almost the end of summer, and seventeen-year-old Julien is seated around the campfire with his sister and six cousins, waiting for Uncle Frank to begin his story.




He’s the best storyteller in Louisiana, and tonight he’s got something really good—the story of the Alligator King. But first, he has to go back even further and tell another story—that of Eagle Hawk, who became a man and set off to follow his vision, where soon he meets a beautiful Irish girl and falls in love.




“But what does this have to do with the Alligator King?” they all want to know. And Uncle Frank just puffs on his pipe and grins.




The Alligator King is the first novel in the Legends of the Swamps series by Kimberly Thompson. The old (although no one knows exactly) Uncle Frank weaves fact with flair to create a tale worthy of a late-night campfire. Get caught up in the mystery as the boys and girls lean forward in their seats, ready to hear what happens next, begging to interrupt Uncle Frank and ask the question: did this really happen? You can decide for yourself, because this is where Uncle Frank’s epic tale begins… Kimberly Thompson




 




Chloe May's father found his wife's tactics incredulous as she dealt with their impoverished life and her own restlessness. Then came the Depression and the droughts of the Dust Bowl. It took more than their losses, near starvation, and apparent defeat to put a tear in her father's eye. In fact, even the women in the Whitehurst family were seldom reduced to tears-conniving and rash behavior, perhaps, but not to tears! The family knew laughter and fun, balancing heartaches and poverty. Chloe May: Daughter of the Dust Bowl is based on the true story of the author's mother, Chloe May, and her family's frequent moves in, around, and out of the Oklahoma Panhandle of the '20s and '30s. Laced with historical facts of the time, Chloe May: Daughter of the Dust Bowl is a must read for younger readers wishing for a glimpse into one of America's most difficult eras, and older readers who will identify with one family's modes of survival. Grace Lundmark




 




The Life of Bud is the story of life and how important we all are and how hard it is to let go in the end. The story follows Bud, who starts out in life as a tiny bud—he feels insignificant. But Bud grows into a beautiful, vibrant leaf on the Mighty Oak Tree and becomes a very important part of the tree. Those who have looked for a children's book that explains gently about the topic of life and death, look no further. The Life of Bud explains to children and reminds adults that death is an important part of life. A Simpler Time - Oversaturated with the latest video games and iPhone apps, does anyone slow down to remember A Simpler Time? Join A.J. as she discovers a summer of fun with her mom, finding animals in the clouds, and a trek to find the perfect four-leaf clover! What's in the Corner? Sing along to this musical mystery “tail” as Muffin the rescue dog discovers what's in the corner of her suburban backyard, while protecting her owner! What’s in the Corner? A Muffin "Tail" is Muffin's second adventure and is sure to spark the imagination of children of all ages. Went Out To Get a Donut - Came Home With a Muffin - At first, Muffin was scared and hid under her mommy's chair. Muffin found out that training class was fun and interesting, and her mommy gave her treats and affection for doing her lessons correctly—what we call 'positive reinforcement'. Muffin became our 'star student!' Muffin graduated from her first level of classes-Beginner Education and is starting her second level of training soon. Laura W. Eckroat




Christian writer Lynn Baber retired as a National and World Champion horse breeder/ trainer after careers as a business and equine pro. From horses to "contending for the faith" every message is based on God's Word. Lynn shares simple truth even when it's not the popular path.




Lynn teaches worthy leadership, methods for achieving success, and the process of building faith under the brand Christian Horse Training for Amazing Grays Ministry, a 501.c.3 non-profit.




Life is simple when you follow a worthy leader. Peace, joy, contentment, and security are found with proper focus and commitment. Lynn shares messages in print and in person to help folks find blessed simplicity as Christians, horse lovers, and citizens, in a world where complexity and confusion presently reign.




Highly credentialed in matters of leadership, relationship, and most things equine, Lynn offers a unique mix of experience and perspective that is open, conversational, and personal. For folks who love Jesus Christ, horses - or both!




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A Crystal Vase or a Window Pane

A Crystal Vase or a Window Pane

 

The beauty of cut crystal throwing prisms of color from bright sunlight has always mesmerized me. In fact, I stood in awe at the beauty of a crystal collection that was beautifully displayed in my local museum. The collection had taken years for the owner to collect and had been donated for the pleasure of visitors after her death.

This morning I was listening to the Gaither Vocal Band singing the song “I Then Shall Live”. The words were displayed on the screen so the viewers/listeners could sing along. I did try to sing with them, but tears and sobs were the most prominent sound coming from my throat.

The line that shot straight to my heart was: “Your Kingdom come around and through and in me. Your power and glory, let them shine through me.” The other words in the song are equally meaningful, but this morning those particular words were a message to my heart.

I thought of the beautiful cut crystal. Although it was a joy to behold as a vase or container, it wouldn’t make a very good window. As I heard the words about letting the Lord shine through me, I thought of how I clean the windows of my patio door so that I can get a clear view of the countryside. Cut crystal would distort and obscure the view. Only a smooth pane of glass will do for that use.

Contemplating this thought, I thought of how we Christians are to be a window to the world to show them Jesus. I wondered if I had so decorated myself so that the lost can’t see Jesus through me. God, forgive me. What they need is a clear representation of the Lord to reflect the glory and power of our God.

The thing about window glass is that we don’t really notice it unless it is dirty. We are glad it is there in the wall to open up the view to us, but it is not what we see. We look through it. I don’t want to be a decoration in a museum. I want to be a window, clean and clear, that isn’t even noticed except to be an opening to see the Lord.

Elaine Littau

We Take Care of Things that are Important to Us

This summer has been the summer of taking care of things. My husband and I have been working diligently on resurfacing decks, tables, chairs, and the bed of our flatbed trailer. We have repainted a lot of trim on our house too. The idea is to extend the life of everything so that replacements won't have to be made.

At the big box lumber store, the guy mixing the surface coating for our decks etc. told us that the product we were buying was guaranteed for the remaining life of the wood it is put on. Hmmmm. That is interesting. If the wood is rotten, there isn't much guarantee, but if we caught it in time, the guarantee is really good.

The bottom line is that we take care of the things that are costly to replace, sentimental, or otherwise important to us. Relationships are some of those things. Our three boys graduated high school in 1996,1997, and 2000. After they started college, they were never around here much. They are all married and have a family of their own to take care of.

Like I said before, this summer has been a summer of taking care of things. We arranged to spend a week in the beautiful mountains of Colorado with all of our sons and their families. We camped...tent camped...roughed it...(I am definitely looking into getting a camper for next time.)

We rebuilt relationships around the campfire and sightseeing. Some rough edges were knocked off of us and we remembered life together was not always idyllic. We did remember that close relationship with one another is worth it. Worth working through everything even if it is hard.

Our boys are worth it. Every prayer prayed asking God to remind them of His glory and every tear for the things that sometimes come up is worth it. I love those people. They are my people. I will take care of those relationships.

I have been on the Potter's wheel this summer. The Lord has shown me things in myself that need reshaping. I have been pounded and reformed into a closer relationship than ever with Jesus. I have realized that I have let some things go that should have been worked on. The closeness with God is definitely worth taking care of.

Lessons from the Fire

When I was thirty years old, I took china painting lessons. This little creamer is one of many items I produced while in class. Although I had painted many oils, watercolors, and acrylic landscapes; the technique for laying down china painting medium is totally different.

First, the paint is crushed glass with pigment and it has to by mixed with linseed oil. As you place your brush on the slick surface of the porcelain, if you put too much pressure on the brush, nothing happens. In order to lay color down, it takes a very light touch. To highlight or lighten areas, pressure is applied.

On the first lesson I learned to erase mistakes, wipe off with a finger or a little cloth. This was very different than the other mediums I had used. At the end of the class the teacher took our pieces to fire them. She told us that some of the image might disappear and some of the colors might change. It was difficult for me to release my labor into her hands and for it to be put in the fires.

The following week, the plate had been fired. Much of my labor was gone. Much of it barely showed up on the white porcelain. Other colors were brilliant. One thing was for certain. The piece was not finished.

The teacher demonstrated how to layer color into the background to make the foreground stand out and give definition to the petals. Still, at the end of class, I found it hard to release since I knew it would come out of the 3000+ degree fire changed. I remembered that it would be useless to think the painting I had done in class would stand the test of time without the fire. All the work would vanish the first time it was washed. So, I let it go into the fire several more times after laying on more depth of color.

The work of the fire was to melt the crushed glass into the porcelain and fuse the pigmented glass into the fabric of the porcelain. It had to be hot, very hot, to do this. The very last firing was to make the gold edging permanent. 

When I first saw the gold paint, I was very upset. It was ugly army green. I didn't want to put that on my now beautiful plate. That stuff didn't look like gold to me. Of course, I didn't want to disappoint my teacher, so I let it got into the fire once again. The kiln isn't fired up as hot for the gold application. If it is fired at the same temperature used before on the plate, it either  burns or disappears.

(This it the first plate.)

I almost cried when I saw that first plate. I couldn't believe I had made something so pretty. The gold was awesome. Even though it was a painstaking process, the end result was worth it.

Now for the lesson I learned with this. God uses crushed  glass (things of importance to us) to paint on us. Our life is the porcelain piece. Some of the beautiful things painted seem to vanish after each fiery trial, but he brings the loveliness to the forefront with a few more dark brushstrokes before we go through the fire again. In the end, we come forth with gold and are a vessel that can be used because the work that He has done in us is not temporary, but melted into our very spirit.

Do not despise the firing in God's kiln. It is to bring out beauty that could never be shared otherwise.

Elaine Littau, author

Elaine Littau, Author: A Table for the Grandkids

Elaine Littau, Author: A Table for the Grandkids:   Today's picture of the day is because I miss my grandkids. (The oldest boys are teenagers, so I guess this isn't fair to them...

Elaine Littau, Author: Working Around the House

Elaine Littau, Author: Working Around the House:   This is my picture of the day. The hubs is scraping the old paint off the garage eve. He got home earlier than usual and finished thi...

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