Monday devo: God in the Rearview Mirror

I had intended to write the Monday devo last night or early this morning, having a topic in mind; but that topic will wait for another week. My procrastination has paid off, which writers are always hoping will happen but rarely does.

As I left work today, I had a little car trouble -- the kind of trouble that requires a trip to a mechanic, quickly, with as little mileage between trouble and mechanic as possible. I called my mechanic brother (who, sadly, lives in another state; how did I let that happen?) who has started replying to my car questions with a knowing "yeah." As in, "Yeah, your car is at that stage of its barely useful life where these things are bound to happen. Get used to it." Great.

To top it all off, I couldn't just drop the car at the shop and hitch a ride home with a co-worker. I'm scheduled to be on the road tomorrow for work. Talk about crummy timing. The plan originally was for me to drive my own car, but now, at 5:30 on a Monday (of course) my assistant and I were scrambling to call the repair shop (open until 6:00, whew!) and the car rental place (also open until 6:00, and with a car available, whew again!). Kind soul that she is, my assistant followed me to the shop and then dropped me at the car rental place.

My thought process through all of this was decidedly grumpy. Of all the bad luck, something like this has to happen the night before a business trip, adding complication to an already irritating situation. (And, bonus, I left both pairs of sunglasses in my car at the shop, so I had to stop at Target on my way home and buy a new pair.)

But as I drove home, enjoying new car smell and XM radio (guess I don't have to bring any cassette tapes with me tomorrow), suddenly I realized this was actually the best possible scenario.

I always have the option of renting a car for these work trips. I just usually choose to drive my own car because it's familiar and comfortable and less hassle. And since I'm leaving early and not expecting to make it back before the rental place closes at 6:00, I had to reserve it for two nights -- which means the repair shop has two full days to keep my car while I have a rental that is paid for by work. Talk about perfect timing.

In the book, I wrote about a time when Moses was up on the mountain with God. Moses was discouraged and God decided to cheer him up by letting Moses see Him. Only not face to face. No, God put Moses into a hole in a rock and then walked past in such a way that Moses only got to see His back. That was about all the glory anyone could take, at least if they wanted to live to tell about it.  I talked in the book about how some Jewish rabbis of yore had speculated that this was a metaphor of sorts, that seeing God's back might be a way of saying that Moses got to see where God had just been. And then I talked about how we so often experience God this way. We don't know what He's about to do. We rarely figure out what He's up to in the midst of our daily circumstances. But sometimes, we get to see it all in hindsight, smack our foreheads with our palms, and say, "Okay, now I get it!"

In other words, like I did today, sometime we see God in the rearview mirror.

Top 10 list for the book release

Well, the day has finally come and my book, Child of Divorce, Child of God: A Journey of Hope and Healing, is about to hit a bookshelf near you! I am so inexpressibly grateful to the many people who have supported me and encouraged me through this process. As the official release date (September 1) draws near, I wanted to let you know of some final ways that you can help. With a nod to David Letterman and to Jen Abbas de Jong (from whom I stole some of these ideas), here are the top 10 ways you can help make this book launch a success:
10. Buy the book! It’s available online at Amazon, Parable, Christian Book Distributors (CBD), Barnes & Noble, Borders, Books-a-Million, Target, and Lifeway Christian Stores to list a few.
9. Ask your local book stores to carry a copy.
8. Ask your library to carry a copy. Don’t forget your church library.
7. Tell others about the book. Some suggestions: adult children of divorce, parents who are divorced, your pastor, anyone who ministers to young adults, Christian counselors, local Divorce Care or Divorce Care for Kids leaders.
6. If you have any contacts with local media who might want to run a review, write an article, or do an interview with me, please tell them the about the book.
5. I’m willing to travel as needed (and as my budget allows), so if your church or a group you are involved in would like to have me come and speak for a special event, I’d be happy to do so (and even happier, for those out of town events, if the group will pay my travel expenses); I’m also happy to do book signings. (Note to my Illinois friends: I’ll be in IL for a wedding in mid-October.)
4. Write a review of the book on any of the online retailer sites.
3. If you’re part of a book club that reads nonfiction, suggest Child of Divorce, Child of God.
2. Consider buying extra copies of the book and giving them out to children of divorce, pastors, counselors or others who might be interested.
1. And the number one way you can make this book launch a success…PRAY! Please pray with me that this book will make it into the hands of many hurting individuals and that they will find the hope and healing that only comes through Jesus Christ!

Books are here!

After a long absence from the blogosphere--during which my wonderful parents spent two weeks doing back-breaking labor, painting and installing laminate flooring at my house, not to mention hanging new lights, replacing bad outlets, making snacks at the most opportune times, and conducting a neighborhood seminar on the poisonous plants of northern Virginia--I am excited to report that a small stack of my books is sitting next to me as I type this! My author's copies arrived on the FedEx truck today, rescuing what was otherwise a very stressful and frustrating Monday.

I sent out emails today offering to speak at several local church-based divorce support groups. If you'd like me to speak at a gathering, do a booksigning, or do a Q&A or guest column on your blog, contact me through the link in my blogger profile.

You can now read an excerpt of the book on Amazon, so go check it out! (See the link to the right.)

The dog ate my homework

So, there I was on a sunny Saturday, sitting indoors and proofreading the typeset copy of my book manuscript, when a knock came at the door. It was my neighbor Kim, dropping off the hedge trimmer that I was borrowing. She borrows my weed whacker and I borrow her hedge trimmer. "Why delay?" thought I. "I'll just trim the overgrown shrubbery right now and get it over with." So out I went and trimmed and shaped until the shrubbery looked more like delicate garden landscape than wild untamed wilderness. I returned the hedge trimmer to Kim's front steps and walked back to the house with a sense of healthy satisfaction.

Then I opened the front door.

Only then did I remember that I had left my typeset manuscript sitting on the sofa in the same room as a certain furniture jumping dog. Said dog was happily shredding and eating page 27.

Luckily, that was the only page the aspiring book-destroyer had gotten to. I sent a sheepish email to my editor asking if he could scan page 27 and email it to me. And for the rest of the day, I remembered to put my manuscript on top of the TV armoire whenever I needed to get up from the sofa.

File under "independence"

I write in my book (look for it in August!) that we children of divorce are an independent lot. Many of us had to take on adult responsibilities when we were kids, which led some of us to adopt a maturity and independence that was beyond our years.

Some things never change.

I needed a new filing cabinet at home, having outgrown the old two drawer I've had forever. So this afternoon, I headed to Office Depot and purchased a lovely ready-to-assemble light cherry four drawer filing cabinet, on sale no less. The furniture salesperson at the store used a dolly to wheel the box to the curb while I folded down the seats on my Jetta and pulled it to the front door. Admittedly, she was a bit heftier than I am, but she hoisted the box easily into my trunk and off I drove.

Arriving home, I realized the furniture lady must have a weight bench at home. There was no way I could even get the box out of the car, much less into the house and up to the second floor. No neighbors were home, so I closed the trunk and thought "Well, I can always get help later."

Then it occured to me: who said I had to carry the entire box into the house? Why, I could just open up one end and carry the pieces in a few at a time. Brilliant! Trying to corral all the bits of styrofoam that had cradled my new cabinet in its box, I slid all the drawers and side pieces and who knows what kinds of connectors out of the box, making trip after trip into the house where I piled them all onto the sofa. Where they now sit, until I get up the energy to carry them up to the second floor and into my office for assembly.

I had a few passing qualms about depriving someone of their spiritual gift of heavy lifting, but that didn't stop me. I am woman, see me carry a few pieces of pre-cut lumber at a time. All the while, though, I did roll my eyes at myself over the silliness of trying to do it all without any help. Independence can be good, but it can also be a mask for pride...and it can make our jobs a lot harder when we should be asking someone to help shoulder the burden we carry.

For now, I just need to clear off the sofa so I have a place to sit down.

Release date

I'm smack in the middle of copyedits for the book, which are due later this week, so posting may be a little delayed. But wanted to share the good news that we have an official release date for the book: August 1. I've already seen one online bookstore that has it listed in their catalog. Put it on your reading list for that late summer beach trip!

The baby dog arrives

Child killer of divorce

Last week, the Christmas season was brutally shattered for at least eight families when a troubled teen chose to end his life and the lives of others in a shooting rampage at an Omaha mall.

Robert Hawkins' parents divorced when he was three. According to an article in the Washington Post, he had substance abuse issues and mental health problems. His family had given up on him, and he became a ward of the state at the age of 14. The article says he "had been a ward of the state from 2002 to 2006" but if you do the math, you realize that this kid simply aged out of the system. If he was 19 now in 2007, he turned 18 in 2006. And if you read the article closely, you realize that Hawkins was not in foster care, but in a mental health facility.

When he left the mental health facility, it wasn't because he was cured or that his mental health issues were under control. It was because he failed to complete community service that was required by the program. There's a shocker -- someone with a mental illness failing to follow the rules. Instead of realizing that this kid had more serious issues, the courts declared him "nonamenable to further services." In other words, we wash our hands of him.

Appallingly, a spokesman for the health department stated that "all appropriate services were provided when needed for as long as needed." Well, clearly that wasn't the case.

What happened in Omaha is eerily similar to what happened at Virginia Tech last year. A kid who was widely recognized to have mental health problems failed to get the proper treatment or be in the proper setting and, as a result, lives were lost.

I've seen traditional mental hospitals and understand why a lot of people are turned off by the idea. I've volunteered at more residential, kinder, gentler, homes for people with mental illnesses and appreciate their ability to care for nonviolent individuals who cannot live on their own in society. Perhaps what we need is a thoughtful combination of the two. As it is, we let most of the violent, mentally ill individuals in our society live behind prison bars, which can't be better than the old-time mental wards, or we make them live in the world, tempting fate that they won't, like Hawkins, find a cache of weapons or other means of hurting others and themselves.

As a society, we are failing these weaker members, these citizens whose brains war against them. If any good can come of these horrible tragedies, perhaps it is that we will wake up and find some solutions to offer real help and protection for the mentally ill.

Good books

I am reading Out of Africa, partly because I have a fascination with Africa these days, and partly because of a wonderful quote that has stuck in my head for several years, from Martha Gellhorn's Travels with Myself and Another. Gellhorn wrote, "The power of 'Out of Africa' is her self-possession. The charm of the writing is an archaic and quaint elegance--the idiom not quite right. But she worries me on God; as if she knew that He and she were both well born."

The writing is, indeed, charming. Dineson's descriptions of the African plain that she called home for many years are stunning and beautiful.

The following passage, however, struck me for an entirely different reason. In a section titled 'Kamante and Lulu,' Dineson tells of a conversation she had with one of the boys who lived on her farm about the book she was writing. He was having difficulty imagining how her piles of papers were going to be transformed into a solid book.

One night as I looked up I met these profound attentive eyes and after a moment he spoke. "Msabu," he said, "do you believe yourself that you can write a book?"

I answered that I did not know.

...Kamante...then said, "I do not believe it."

I had nobody else to discuss my book with; I laid down my paper and asked him why not. I now found that he had been thinking the conversation over before, and prepared himself for it; he stood with the Odyssey itself behind his back, and here he laid it on the table.

"Look, Msabu," he said, "this is a good book. It hangs together from one end to the other. Even if you hold it up and shake it strongly, it does not come to pieces. The man who has written it is very clever. But what you write," he went on, both with scorn and with a sort of friendly compassion, "is some here and some there. When the people forget to close the door it blows about, even down on the floor and you are angry. It will not be a good book."

Dineson went on to explain about bookbinding and publishing.

A few days later, I heard Kamante explain to the other houseboys that in Europe the book which I was writing could be made to stick together, and that with terrible expense it could even be made as hard as the Odyssey, which was again displayed. He himself, however, did not believe that it could be made blue.

My book will have a soft cover and I do not know yet what color the cover will be, blue or otherwise. However, the first round of edits has been turned in, and I have great hopes that my editor will indeed make it all "hang together from one end to the other" so that it will not come to pieces even when shaken. You, the reader, will have to judge, and I can only hope that you have more faith in me than Kamante did in poor Dineson.

We thank thee, O God

A few days ago, over some pizza lovingly made by Papa John, I asked my brilliant writer friends what they were thankful for this year. Yes, I'm that goofy person who wants to know at Thanksgiving time what we're giving thanks for, the one who makes the family pause before the turkey to hear the story of the Pilgrim's first Thanksgiving or Lincoln's Thanksgiving proclamation read. Here are a few of the things for which I am especially grateful this year:

1. A job I love and that (mostly) pays the bills.


2. The birth of my new puppy last Friday.


3. Friends who are a joy, challenge, and comfort to me (especially K, J, L, & C).


4. My family, and the fact that we'll all be together for the holidays.


5. Book edits being done!!


6. A church that feels like home.


7. A roof over my head and food in my belly.


8. God's persistent pursuit of my heart.


9. Good magazines and a steady supply of crossword puzzles.


10. The love of God, so rich and free!

Apropos of nothing

Random thing #1:

I really, REALLY hate mosquitoes. Their existence is enough to make me wonder sometimes if God really knows what He's doing -- or at least His wisdom at letting them onto the Ark. I have to believe they only appeared after the Fall, one of those nasty results of sin that didn't exist in the original perfect Eden. I just spent a measly twenty minutes in the back yard mowing the grass, watering my newly-planted and already wilting pansies, and spreading sand over a former flower bed in preparation for a fab new patio I'm envisioning. Now, sitting back inside I can count at least five huge mosquito welts, despite having only my arms exposed and spraying Off liberally over them before I went out. (Next time, I'm grabbing the MaxiDeet instead.) I've always been a tasty treat for mosquitoes and have always been more than ordinarily allergic to them -- hence, the welts, not tame little bites. Darn the little buggers! If I could DDT my back yard, I would gladly do it and kiss organic gardening goodbye.

Random Thing #2:

This one is much happier. My dear friend Lori's new book A Walk with Jane Austen: A Journey into Adventure, Love, and Faith is now available for pre-orders on Amazon.com and will be in a bookstore near you on October 16. Lori is getting many fabulous reviews, which doesn't surprise me one bit because I've been reading drafts of this book for more than a year and have loved it from the very beginning. If you pre-order on Amazon now, you get an additional discount, so go order yours now!

Never Forget

April 1991: View of Manhattan from the Empire State Building.

Sign of the times

I had to stay up late last night to watch Fred Thompson announce his candidacy for President. Frankly, I'm relieved. Fred seems the most electable Republican out there and has been giving Rudy a run for his money even before last night's announcement. (Rudy is great, but too liberal for many conservatives and too New Yawk for the South; McCain is like a lovable, crazy old grandpa who says nutty stuff from time to time and makes us giggle, but I don't think enough people take him seriously; and Mitt has the whole Mormon thing, which continues to be an issue.) On the other side of the political aisle, Obama doesn't inspire confidence in me, I didn't like Edwards the last time around, and we've had enough of HillBilly in the White House even if her election would give Bill the chance to be a prettier Eleanor Roosevelt. Despite the ludicrously early start to this election cycle, there is still a lot of time for misstep, scandal, and whatnot, but for now at least I'm with Fred.

That said, I do find it a bit ironic that the top three Democratic candidates (Obama, HillBilly, and Edwards) are all on their first marriages, while three of the Republican frontrunners (Rudy, Fred, and McCain) are all on a 2nd or 3rd marriage, with only Mitt Romney, the resident Mormon, marrying just one wife.

Truth in advertising

Can someone--anyone--explain to me why more than half the clothing items in the Ann Taylor Petites flyer I got in the mail this week are NOT AVAILABLE IN PETITE SIZES?? Were the tall, skinny fashion mavens smugly sitting around in their NYC offices overlooking Central Park one day and cruelly laughing, "Ha, we'll taunt all the short ones by showing them cute clothes they cannot wear! 'Look, a catalog marked just for you...oh, but so sorry, these don't come in your size.' Hahahaha!" Seriously, is it so hard to make a flyer for petites that actually shows petite sized clothing???

Left to my own devices

I'm throwing down the gauntlet to evolution. In the computer age, we have a perfect opportunity to see whether, in fact, we develop genetic mutations to better adapt to our environment. Yesterday, I visited a site (in the physical world, not the cyberworld) where I can access a subscription-only database for free, doing a little research for my consulting clients. As I sat there, madly clicking and scrolling through the screens with my right hand and jotting notes for myself with my left hand, it occured to me that evolution should (finally!) show the superiority of left-handedness. We lefties have long known our strength. We're only too happy to remind you that we're the only ones in our right minds. Now, in a click and drag world, we should finally come into our own. Instead of school teachers trying to force little lefties to hold the pencil in their other hand (the 'wrong" hand, I call it, although that's usually in the context of someone asking about grandma's ring that I wear: "No, it's not an engagement ring; it's on the right hand, or the "wrong" hand, as I like to call it"), we should start seeing teachers forcing kids to hold their pencils in their left hands, the better to jot notes down without interrupting the click and scroll action of the other hand. Then, it's only a matter of time before left-handedness goes from a genetic advantage to a genetic normalcy. That is, if evolution is true. And if we can resist Gates and Jobs and their darn ambitexterous touch screens.

Lovely Leesburg

We used to look at still pictures on pages made of paper

I've read two posts and several articles lately (see here, here, and here) about the dearth of readers, a thing too awful to be imagined really. I love reading, I'm forever outgrowing my bookcases, and books are strewn haphazardly and in little neat piles all over my house. My friend Catherine talks about imagining her death as happening when her book collection topples over onto her in her apartment and buries her alive.


My love of books and reading started early. My mom is one of the most voracious readers I've ever known. She reads mysteries for sheer pleasure, but I know whenever I go home there will be a pile of library books next to her chair in the living room, and I know it will usually include books on cooking, decorating/remodeling, business, politics, history, or any of another half-dozen topics. The variety of her reading inspires me to break out of my fiction world and read biographies and memoirs and nonfiction titles.


Every time we moved to a new town, one of the first things we did was get our library cards. Going to the library was a weekly ritual for us growing up. Each week, we would get amused smiles from other library patrons (or annoyed looks from those behind us in line) as mom, me, and my two brothers each stood there with our library cards and our stacks of books for the week. The two little guys were active with a capital A, but they would sit quietly for an hour or more, snuggled under an arm, while we read to them. Ah, the magic of books!

And really, I think, why don't more parents figure out this secret to sane parenting? Who wouldn't want to spend an hour snuggled up with a warm, quiet toddler, reading about mice who drive cars or lions who get scammed by rabbits or elephant kings who speak French? As inspiration, here's a picture of my mom reading one of my favorite books to me.

Love, Peanut

Ben and Jon are my brothers. They were 1 and 4 when this letter was written:

Jon is so adorable. He had such beautiful hair. Then one day Ben decided Jon’s hair was too long so he cut it. He did it so short that to make it look better Ken had to give Jon a crew cut. He is still adorable though.

Thursday Funny

I saw this sign across from Notre Dame in Paris last May and it cracked me up. Everything is so glitzy in Paris! In case you're wondering, I checked the sign for another "c" -- it really is a misprint, not a weird font issue.

Love, Peanut

From letter to my grandparents at age 15:

"The typewriter from Dad arrived today! What a perfect gift. I can’t wait to try it out….The best present I got however was from myself! I started reading my Bible daily. It has really been a blessing and I have gained a lot of happiness and insight."