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

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

One Author's Journey #5

All of the books I write reflect things from my life. It was time to write book #5, Timothy’s Home. Someone recommended a wonderful book for writer for me called The Art of War for Fiction Writers. There are a lot of exercises to hone writing skills in this book. One of them went like this (more or less):

Suppose there is a truck driver driving really fast down the highway. (Are you thinking of a hairy guy right now?

Now, the truck driver is a woman. (Tough gal?)

What if she is in a wedding dress or a formal and in full makeup?

 

When I read this, I searched my mind for how to apply this to a book set in the 1800s. What were the ‘trucks’ then? Who would be my victim-woman driving? After a brief period of contemplation, I decided that the biggest of the ‘big rigs’ of that time had to be the Twenty Mule Team. That thought took me down a road I had travelled fifty years before.

 

I was three and my nephew was five. We were inseparable and usually into some kind of trouble. Of course, wasn’t most of it the nephew’s fault? (That’s my story and I’m sticking to it.) Anyway, my fifteen year old brother had a magnificent model of the Twenty Mule Team Borax. Somehow, the reins got all twisted up and it was destroyed. For fifty years my brother was a little bitter about this. Once in a while he mentioned that he saw one at an antique store or on eBay. This niggled at my mind a lot.

 

One summer we were in Denver and visiting our oldest son’s in-laws. The grandfather showed us the house he had built. In the basement there was a twenty Mule Team Borax model. I was so excited and remarked that I needed to find one for my brother. Our son’s father-in-law said he had one he would send to me. The problem was that it needed to be put together. I told him I thought that would be fine.

 

A couple of weeks later I got a really small package in the mail. It was half the size of a shoebox. I couldn’t guess what it was. When I opened it, I almost cried. It was a model ready to be put together. Even the mules came in two pieces. I had never put together a model in my life, so I called my brother and told him I found a model. He said that he would appreciate it if I would put it together for him. (?)

 

I begged Terry to help me put the thing together. He gave me one whole day. He put together all twenty mules. The wagons were detailed and there were even little men that went with it. Terry also routed a pretty board and put the recommended finish nails every so many inches to hold the mules in place. The day was over and I was on my own.

 

There were documents in with the model and when I studied the instructions, I found some interesting facts about the twenty mule teams and how they worked. After reading the short study there, I looked up a lot of things on the internet. It was very interesting. While I painted and distressed the wagons and put everything together for a few weeks, I contemplated the lives of the people who worked on these wagons.

 

Some of the plot of Timothy’s Home unfolded there on my dining room table. When I finished the model, I wrote the book and felt blessed that I could share the wealth of information I had learned and not let it go to waste.  As it happened, we went to New Mexico to see my brother and present him with the finished product. It was fifty years late, but he was touched by my efforts. I love my brother so much. It was worth the time and effort to see the look on his face that day.

 

The next book was a glimpse into my dad’s life. (He was born in 1909)

 

 

 

 

One Author's Journey #4

 

 

 

 

 

Book III was going through the last stages before its release date when I came upon a writing challenge on the internet. It was called the “National Novel Writing Challenge”. I clicked on the link and read about it and was floored when I discovered the challenge was to write a book with 50,000 words or more in one month. The month was November.

NOVEMBER, the words stuck out like a knife. That is the month we have family over for Thanksgiving, there are at least two craft/book shows, and I spend days cooking and preparing the house for a lot of company. How on earth could I commit to doing something like this?

I don’t know why, but I did it. I had never self-published and thought this would be a good exercise in writing discipline. I would learn how to juggle life with my writing. Up to this point, I let my life revolve around marketing and writing. This was a test and only a test…or so I thought.

In Luke’s Legacy, Book III of the Nan’s Heritage Series, there was a “walk on character” who had a lot of personality. Sheriff Roy Miller met her on a train. She was a mail order bride. The man who ordered her sent her away and didn’t marry her. I decided to write her story for the November NaNoWriMo challenge.

The Eyes of a Stranger addressed some of my fears of being rejected. Gertie, the main character had faced rejection all of her life and she didn’t understand why until she left home only to be rejected once more. I contemplated the thought process of a mail order bride. She was the precursor to the email bride of today. One day I was visiting with my sister and we were talking about mail order brides. I told her that I would be in the ‘return’ file on my way back home.

When she was introduced in Book III, we find that the good Sheriff had a friend in Denver. Gertie was to go and find him to secure employment as a nanny or housekeeper. I began the story with her life at home and how she came to be a mail order bride. Then she had conversation with Sheriff Roy and built the story from what was laid out there.

What was Roy’s friend like? Would he help her? Where would she live? Where would she work? Those days were difficult for a woman on her own. There were few women in the workplace. Most were married off very young. Gertie was past her prime marriage years. She feared she would be an old maid. Those were the things that tossed around in my mind in this book.

It was fun to write this on the challenge. NaNoWriMo urges the writer to only write and not correct or edit as they go. That gave freedom to throw caution to the wind. Editing and processing the story came in December, January and on. I was very pleased to meet the challenge that year. My readers were happy to have two new books within one year to read. I learned a lot about moving with the storyline and letting the story run. It was delightful.

It did seem that I was writing all the time, but I still had a great time doing all the scheduled things. I think that book taught me how to live my life as a writer and not let the books boss me around. It would seem to be the opposite, but it wasn’t. I learned that if I write an average of 1670 words a day, I can get the rough draft completed in a month. I also learned that it is not necessary to get a rough draft completed in a month. It is alright if it takes two or three months. I learned that I must not forget to connect with those I love and meet new people. After it was all said and done, I had a new title, The Eyes of a Stranger. This book was not originally in the plan of the series, but after I wrote it, I knew it was an important element of it. The next move was to wrap up the series with one more book.

 

 

 

One Author’s Journey

#3

 

Elk’s Resolve, Book II in the Nan’s Heritage Series, seemed to fly from my mind, through my fingers, and onto the computer screen. I learned the importance of writing every day. Readers of the first book were ready as soon as the book was ready. Now, I just had to get word to them. I had a clip board that readers signed on my book table at the book events. If they were interested in being part of my “book club”, I sent them notice when the next book was ready to be sent to them via a postcard. This idea worked really well.  

It amazed me more than anyone that I began my third book, Luke’s Legacy.  Somehow, I actually became a writer. I wrote the first book because I heard the saying that everyone has a book inside of them. The second one was written because there were loose ends that needed tied up from the first one. Now, the third was a choice.

As a writer of Christian books, I believe it is important for each book to hold a message as well as to entertain the reader. As I write each book, I feel like I am in school and the Lord is teaching me things I need to work on in my own Christian walk. Nan’s Journey dealt with forgiveness while Elk’s Resolve was about overcoming depression and prejudice. God has no grandchildren was something Luke’s Legacy dealt with. As much as I wanted to make the decision for my children, it was clear that each person must choose for himself.

Portions of the book dealt with things children of Christians have expressed. Things like: “Mama is praying, so everything will be all right.” “I’ll get into heaven on Daddy’s coattails.” “I grew up in church. God knows me.” Sometimes I am afraid that those who have grown up so close to making a decision for Jesus, have a more difficult time realizing their need for Him.

While I was writing “Luke’s Legacy”, our brother in law almost died. He was one of the people who always came close to choosing God, but never felt he could. The doctors were working on his failing body and he felt his spirit leave the confines of flesh and bone. He walked through a door and found miles of desolation. He screamed out to God to save him. Immediately, he was back into his fleshly body of pain. He repented and asked the Lord to save his soul.

After he began recovering, he spent a lot of time crying to his sweet wife about how much he didn’t deserve another chance. He was so grateful that God let him live so that he could get saved. John, my brother in law, spoke at churches and men’s groups all over the panhandle as well as every individual who would listen to him, about this experience. He wanted them to be ready to meet God when the time came.

John died about two years after this experience. I asked if I could include a version of his vision/experience in Luke’s Legacy. I think the inclusion of that portion is why some readers have tagged it as “paranormal”. It was not. John was a changed man after that. He was not one who had dreams or experiences like that otherwise. He was very shy and his proclamation of his experience was surprising to everyone who knew him. He was wonderful and we all miss him.

God has no grandchildren. You cannot be let into the kingdom of God by default. It is a personal decision. Period. I think that portion of the book is the whole reason the Lord led me to write it. I thought my writing journey was over with that title. Little did I know, it had just begun.

My Author Journey

 

 

One Author’s Journey

#2

 

While the first title, Nan’s Journey, was going through the publishing hoops, my husband urged me to write the next book in the series. I hadn’t thought much about writing other books. The hair on the back of my neck stood on end every time someone called me ‘author’.  I simply couldn’t believe they were referring to me. I had the feeling that someone would pull back the curtain and find out the ‘author’ was only me.

Book II of the Nan’s Heritage Series seemed to fly off the laptop compared to the seven or so years it took to write Book I. I believe the first book took so long because I never thought it was something that would be published. With Elk’s Resolve, I had a little momentum going. Every day my husband asked me if I had written that day. That was a lot of pressure for me because I hadn’t gotten into the rhythm of being a writer. Being accountable to him was what I needed to get the book done. I also wrote furiously because I was afraid I would lose my nerve.

One lazy afternoon while I was napping, the phone rang. It was the marketing representative from my publisher. He told me Nan’s Journey was ready and asked me how many copies I wanted to order. He asked a lot of questions and my mind was officially blown. I heard terms I had never thought of before: push cards, promotional items, press release…

He could tell I was lost, so he recommended a book for me to read. It was Amen by Leon Mentzer. It was a book about publishing and marketing for the beginning author. I ordered it, some push cards, book marks, posters, and fifty books. He told me not to give any books to friends and relatives. I didn’t listen. I was afraid if I didn’t give the books to them, I would be stuck with them.

The books arrived. I opened the box and cried when I saw them. My heart was within those pages. Would anyone like it? The marketing book was in the box as well. I dove into it and cried when I read it. I realized I really didn’t know what I was doing. I thought I would be at my computer writing and the books would sell themselves. That’s what I had learned from movies I had watched.  I had just watched a movie where a poor boy wrote a book and immediately was rich. In fact, my husband had a list of things we were going to do with ‘all that money’. One funny thing I remember from those first ‘author’ days was my first time I went to the post office to pick up the mail for my paying job. I honestly wondered if people would approach me and think I was famous. Nope, I was still just me. I guess they never did get the memo that I was something special. I just have to laugh about that.

Leon’s book gave me a dose of reality from which I still haven’t recovered. One fact was that most authors never sell more than ninety-nine copies. Thank the Lord; my books have done better than that. There were ideas to get the word out and I marked up that book and attempted to put the suggestions into practice. I contacted him and he became my first book mentor. I will always feel blessed that he gave me good direction in those first months.

Some orders came in from people who had heard about me and I took them to the window of the post office. The clerk was a sweet lady and I had given her a book. She started talking to me about the characters in the book as if they were real people. I remember being shocked that she knew ‘my people’. I felt exposed. This woman knew the thoughts in my heart. I don’t know what I had expected. It did make me realize that I needed to be careful with those words I write because people were reading.

 

March Madness

Nope, this isn't about basketball. March 1st is our wedding anniversary. Terry and I have been married 38 years. I could tell you that they have all be bliss, but you would rightfully be able to call me a liar.

While all days have not been moonlight and roses, there has been a certain underlying joy in the years we have spent together. We struggled through the first few years while we were getting used to thinking of someone other than ourselves. We were 19 & 18 years old and, as you know, teenagers are notorious for being self-centered.

I wish I could say that at our 50+ years, the self-centered stuff had ceased, but that would not be the truth. What I can say is that after all these years together, my sweet husband has taught me to not take everything so seriously.

People who know me now would have a difficult time believing how deadly serious I was when Terry married me. I thought I had to be so that people would think I was a grown up. I didn't give myself or anyone else very much slack. Terry taught me how to laugh at circumstances our of my control. He taught me to see the humor behind almost everything that happens. His  favorite saying is: "We are going to have so much fun growing up together." He still says that to the grands.

Our grandson, Zach, used to call him "Grandhappy" instead of Grandpappy. The happy part is a good fit for him. Of course, we have had some very sad days when some of our loved ones passed away, but the overlying atmosphere of our life together has been a deepening joy.

We still have our conflicts. In fact, we might call this month 'March madness' for a reason. The truth is that I am still madly in love with that man.