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Carla Olson Gade: Romancing the Snow

11/4/2012

 

This week we welcome Carla Olson Gade to Author Memories.

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A native New Englander, Carla Olson Gade grew up in an historic Massachusetts town and now lives in rural Maine with her husband and two young adult sons. Her love for writing and eras gone by turned her attention to writing historical Christian romance. 

Carla enjoys graphic design, photography, history, and genealogy. And she loves the snow, except when it gets dirty by the end of the winter. Throughout the years, Carla has taught workshops on Biblical topics, genealogy, writing, and adult literacy.


Romancing the Snow
by Carla Olson Gade 

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Romance: 
M
arked by the imaginative or emotional appeal of what is
heroic, adventurous, remote, mysterious, or idealized.


A native New Englander, I am no stranger to snow.  As a child, I always looked forward to that first snow which seemed like a miracle to me. Catching snowflakes on my tongue as they drifted down from the heavens. Tunneling through snow banks taller than I. We made snow forts and snowmen, and would slide for hours on end down steep hills. It was always worth the long trip climbing back to the top, in snow up to our knees, just to go down one more time. When our mittens were soaked, and feet nearly frozen, we’d go in for a cup of hot chocolate, put on fresh mittens and dry socks and head back outside. We’d make snow angels and imagine that they mysteriously appeared in the unscathed landscape. Or so it seemed. Snow always made everything look fresh and new. Pure, and like a dream. A blank palette for a romantic imagination such as mine.

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“As the last belated cloud legions...were passing overhead...they
contribute a few more choice examples of snow crystal architecture
as souvenirs of the skill of the Divine Artist.”

~ Wilson A. "Snowflake" Bentley
Snow, like a story, begins with something so small and delicate and can transform into a wonderland.  Like the uniqueness of every individual snowflake, we too, have our own experiences, memories, and stories to be told. Like the times I picnicked beneath the shelter of a bowing pine covered in snow. Desiring to recreate this memory with my own sons when they were young, we took a picnic a short distance from our home following a blizzard. All bundled up, we carried a thermos of cocoa and peanut butter crackers and found a spot underneath a snowy pine. The cozy moment did not last long upon my realization that a badger was snuggled within the trunk of the tree. We let this sleepy creature lay in his wintery cocoon.
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In the 19th century, Currier and Ives gave us images of a romantic New England winters with landscapes of sloping hills of snow, ice skating, and horse drawn sleighs. With every picture, I see a story and often long to put words to the scenes portrayed. This notion is cemented for me further as my great-grandfather Amos Currier was a cousin to the famed lithographer Nathaniel Currier. I know that the scenes were often inspired by true events and the culture of rural New England that my ancestors experienced.
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"The Road, Winter", N. Currier, 1853
Another ancestral cousin, poet John Greenleaf Whittier, put imagery to pen when he wrote Snow-Bound:  A Winter Idyl in 1866. The poem recounts his childhood memories of being secluded in their stormy haven, as his family gathered by the warmth of the fireside hearth to hear legends of old, including those of our shared ancestors. Snow-Bound was one of the most popular publications of its day, lending much to the nostalgia for which good folk longed.

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All day the gusty north-wind bore
The loosening drift its breath before;
Low circling round its southern zone,
Through dazzling snow-mist shone. . .

And, when the second morning shone,
We looked upon a world unknown,
On nothing we could call our own. . .
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Carla Olson Gade: My mother and grandfather on a sleigh ride in 1942.
 “There is something soft and tender in the fall of a single snow-flake,
but when it comes out crawling out in the morning and shoveling
away a big drift, it’s ornery, mean and disgusting.”
~
G.L. Adams, The Fowlerville Review, 1879

Each generation has its own recollections,  some more romantic than others. The romance is often a myth. Nostalgia at its  best. Choosing to hold on to the best memories. Or, looking to the past to redeem a treasure from the deep. Like snow angels and sledding instead of shoveling mountains of heavy wet snow, trudging through the blizzard with a pail of water and grain to feed our horse, recalling the concussion my brother got when the toboggan slammed straight into a tree. Despite the temporary hardships that are endured by so many during nature’s most alarming furies, I must confess that to spend an evening reading by the light of an oil lamp, a candle, or the soft glow of the fireplace, kindles my imagination like nothing else. And, thus, it was for me in my 16th year, during the famed northeast “Blizzard of 1978.”
 
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Hailed the "Storm of the Century," the February blizzard dumped over 27 inches of snow on the Boston area, my family residing directly in its path. The Commonwealth was immobilized and many, like our family were left without heat, electricity, and telephone. The snow drifts were so deep that we could see but 6 inches of antenna of our car which was at the bottom of our driveway. It felt as though we were trapped inside our house, but the sun shone and we ventured outdoors to dig out after the two day storm. I recall walking uptown on the snowy streets, absent of vehicles, dragging our sled so we could return with groceries; providing any stores were open in our small community. Our historic town with clapboard homes and steepled church was clad in white. So picturesque, surreal even, like a Currier and Ives scene. And so pleasant, as many typically reserved New England neighbors greeted one another along the way. And though many were trapped on the interstate by the snowy onslaught and cities shut down for a week, I cling to my own experiences. But I could never keep from wondering how a great snow would affect those who lived in earlier times. Though their lives were not reliant on electricity and such, tremendous snow still created significant hardship . . .  and perhaps other romantic notions.
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18th century woodblock print depicting The Great Snow of 1717.
I’ll leave you with a true tale of my 9th great-grandparents Abraham Adams & Abigail Peirce who endured “The Great Snow” of 18th century Massachusetts. 
 The year 1717 “is rendered memorable, by the unusual quantity of snow, which fell on the twentieth and twenty-fourth of February. In these two storms, the earth was covered with snow, from ten to fifteen feet, and, in some places, to twenty feet, deep. Many one-story houses were covered, and, in many places, paths were dug, from house to house, under the snow. Many visits were made, from place to place, by means of snow shoes, the wearers having first stepped out of their chamber windows, on these excursions. ‘Love,’ we know, ‘laughs at locksmiths,’ and, of course, will disregard a snow-drift. Tradition informs us, that a Mr. Abraham Adams, wishing to visit his ‘ladye love,’ Miss Abigail Peirce, mounted his snow shoes, took a three miles’ walk, for that purpose, and entered her residence as he left his own, namely, by the chamber window. He was the first person the family had seen from abroad, for more than a week. Cotton Mather has left in writing a particular account of ‘the great snow,’ and the many marvels and prodigies attending it.”

(From: A Sketch of the History of Newbury, Newburyport, and West Newbury, from 1635 to 1845 By Joshua Coffin, Joseph Bartlett, 1845)

“As mighty a snow, as perhaps has been known 
in the memory of man, is at this time lying on the ground.”
~ Cotton Mather, early American preacher and historian


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Carla Olson Gade: My ancestor’s home in Newbury, MA (Spencer-Peirce-Little House, c. 1690 which was covered in snow up to the second floor in 1717. Photo courtesy: Karen Lynch. http://www.karenlynchphotos.com/
Have you ever been in a blizzard or other great snow?
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
GIVEAWAY!
Leave a comment with a valid email address by midnight, Nov 11th
to be entered to win a copy of Carla's  giveaway,
Colonial Courtships
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Colonial Courtships:
Carving a Future by Carla Olson Gade
Barbour Publishing, October 2012
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Unexpected adventure catches the Ingersoll
brothers by surprise-and brings unexpected love into their lives. Nathaniel has his sights set on becoming a master figurehead carver, until he risks everything for a woman. Jonathan's merchant trade and his new love are in jeopardy from a brother's animosity. Micah expects to settle down to peace after a life of fighting on the frontier but finds a young woman hiding from an abductor. Alden is press-ganged into tending an ailing naval captain, then catches sight of the captain's fetching niece. Will the unexpected end in four courtships?

The  novella collection begins with Carving a Future, set in 1753. Ship figurehead carver Nathaniel Ingersoll has apprenticed for many years under his Uncle Phineas and hopes to become a master ship carver in his own right. Indentured servant Constance Starling arrives on the Connecticut coast too ill for anyone to accept. Has Nathaniel jeopardized the future he has worked hard to achieve for the welfare of a weakly servant?

Excerpt: http://carlagade.com/CarvingaFutureChapter%201.pdf

Carla is the author of the Heartsongs Presents novel, The Shadow Catcher's Daughter, as well as the novella “Carving a Future” in Colonial Courtships. Carla is a member of American Christian Fiction Writers. 
Connect with Carla at:
Carla's website
Facebook
Twitter
Pinterest
Goodreads
Colonial Quills group Blog
If you are interested in ancestry, Carla invites you to check out her Genealogy blog at http://familyhistory.wordpress.com.

Shannon Taylor Vannatter: The Dipper & Giveaway

2/26/2012

 

This week we welcome Shannon Taylor Vannatter to Author Memories

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Shannon Taylor Vannatter is a stay-at-home mom and pastor’s wife. When not writing, she runs circles in the care and feeding of her husband, their ten-year-old son, and church congregation.
Home is a central Arkansas zoo with two charcoal gray cats, a chocolate lab, and three dachshunds in weenie dog heaven. If given the chance to clean house or write, she’d rather write. Her goal is to hire Alice from the Brady Bunch.


The Dipper
by Shannon Taylor Vannatter

Pieces of my grandparents’ lives cluttered my aunt’s back porch. Grandma had been gone three years, while only twelve months had passed since we lost Grandpa.

On this sweltering July day in rural Arkansas, a somber uneasiness filled the sticky air, as my mother and her siblings gathered to sort through sixty-years-worth of possessions. Mostly kitchen items, I didn’t want anything or feel entitled to the belongings. Yet, I hovered close to offer my mother moral support.

Unwilling to end up never speaking again, because so-and-so got this or didn’t get that, a caring hesitation settled over the siblings.

One of my aunts picked up a pie pan. “Does anyone want this?”

No one jumped on the offer.

“Didn’t you get that for Mom,” Mama said. “You should have it.”

The others agreed in unison.

“What about this?” My uncle pointed to a large platter.

A few moments of silence followed.

“If no one else wants it, I’d like to have it,” my uncle said.

“You can have it,” sibling voices blended.

“How about these old dippers?” My uncle held up two oversized dusty ladles.

I didn’t want anything, but at the sight of the stained, dented aluminum utensils, memories flooded my soul. Unaware I wanted anything, suddenly I wanted that dipper with every fiber of my being. Wanted it so bad, my heart hurt. Tears stung my eyes, but I blinked them away, determined to be strong for my mother.

“If no one else wants it, I’d like to have one,” my aunt said.

A hush hung in the air and my chest felt as if it would explode. I waited for what seemed like an eternity for someone else to speak. No one did.

With effort, I cleared the lump from my throat. “If no one else wants the other one, I’d like to have it.”

My uncle handed me the dipper. Tears blurred my vision.

“What are they anyway?” one of my younger cousins asked.

I pulled myself together. “At the old farm house, Grandma and Grandpa had a well. When we’d come for summer visits, Grandpa would fill a big black and white speckled bowl with water and put it in the sink with a dipper in it. Everyone drank from it all day long.”

“Eww.” My cousin made a disgusted face. “From the same dipper?”

 “And we never got sick. It was the purest, coldest water.” At that moment, I could almost taste it trickling down my throat. “We’d go home to Georgia and I’d make Mama put a bowl of tap water and a soup ladle in the sink. It wasn’t cold enough and never was the same.”

“Why was Grandma and Grandpas’ water so cold?” my cousin asked.

Out of my area of expertise, I shrugged.

“Well water comes from deep in the ground, so it stays cold,” my uncle said.

Made perfect sense.

The day continued, with numerous other items offered and claimed, and no one mad or greedy.

That night, I stared at my new treasure and tried to explain to my husband the feelings the sight of the banged up dipper had evoked.

“I don’t know why I wanted it so bad or what I’ll do with it.”

He shrugged. “Clean it up, put some flowers in it, and hang it on the wall.”
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Wash it? Coated in dust from my grandparents’ house, I love it as is. For months, the dipper sat on the counter before finding a sentimental home. It now decorates the top of my refrigerator with a sugar bowl missing a handle, and a chipped creamer dish my parents received as wedding gifts.

I've never washed it. Now my own dust encases that of my grandparents and every time I notice it, warm memories wash over me.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
GIVEAWAY!
Leave a comment with a valid email address by midnight, Mar 4th
to be entered in a draw for a copy of 
Shannon Taylor Vannatter's
Rodeo Dust
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Rodeo Dust, Barbour Books, Available now

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Ad exec, Rayna Landers meets bull rider, Clay Warren at the State Fair of Texas. While Rayna thinks she’s content solo, Clay longs for marriage and family. Though poised to win his third world championship, his ranch is in a slump. Clay convinces his publicist to hire her advertising firm in a last-ditch effort to keep his employees and lasso her heart. 

Soon the city girl is on the ride of her life, until the rodeo unearths buried memories from her past. Clay sees her through the trauma, but an injury and his stubborn determination to get back in the hypothetical saddle threatens their budding relationship. Can they rely on God to find their common ground or will they draw a line in the rodeo dust that neither will cross?

Read the first chapter

Rodeo Dust is the first in a series of three Texas rodeo books. All are set in Aubrey, Dallas, & Fort Worth Texas. Characters participate in rodeos at the Historic Fort Worth Stockyard’s Cowtown Coliseum.

Rodeo Dust is available in paperback and e-book at http://www.barbourbooks.com Rodeo Hero releases in March 2012
Rodeo Ashes releases in August 2012

Shannon's debut novel, White Roses won the 2011 Inspirational Readers Choice Award in the short contemporary category. The 18th Annual Heartsong Awards named Vannatter 3rd Favorite New Author, and White Roses #1 and White Doves #8 in the contemporary category. The Arkansas Democrat Three Rivers Edition voted Vannatter one of 20 to Watch in 2011.
Shannon's books are available at:
Barbour Books,
Kathy's Book Nook in Heber Springs, AR,
The Bible House in Searcy, AR, Amazon,
and christianbook.com.

Learn more about Shannon and her books at http://shannonvannatter.com 
and check out her real life romance blog at http://shannonvannatter.com/blog/

Connect with her on Facebook: facebook.com/shannontaylorvannatter  
and Twitter: @stvauthor

Cara C. Putman: Grandpa's Handcrafted Furniture & Giveaway

1/8/2012

 

This week we welcome Cara C. Putman to Author Memories.

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Cara C. Putman lives in Indiana with her husband and four children. She’s an attorney and a teacher at her church as well as lecturer at Purdue. She has loved reading and writing from a young age and now realizes it was all training for writing books. She loves bringing history and romance to life.
 
An honors graduate of the University of Nebraska and George Mason University School of Law, Cara left small town Nebraska and headed to Washington, D.C., to launch her career in public policy. 

Cara is an author chasing hard after God as she lives a crazy life. She invites you to join her on that journey.


Grandpa's Handcrafted Furniture
by Cara C. Putman

 
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Cara's Grandpa is the boy on the left circa late 20's to early 30's.
In December, my grandpa turned 92. Can you imagine the cute boy on the left in that photo, now a man who has seen 92 winters come and go?

Because Grandpa K is 92 and Grandma K is 85, I treasure the times I have with them. But the times I treasure most are when they share memories. Often when my family drives home (860 miles my door to my parents’), we’ll stop at the family farm to spend the night with Grandpa and Grandma. I’d slept in their guestroom for years, never knowing the story behind the furniture.

It’s a nice set. Probably walnut – I really don’t know woods well enough to distinguish them. And you can tell from looking at it that somebody carved it – quite well from my perspective, but being a child of the 80s, I assumed they’d bought it at a store.

I couldn’t have been more wrong.

My Grandpa is a child of the Depression. He was born in 1919 and grew into adulthood in the hard times of the 1930s. Living in eastern Nebraska, it was a hard time to find work and make a living. I don’t remember all the details, but during that time, I think it was a doctor took a liking to my Grandpa and asked him to make some furniture for him. That meant he had to learn how to build furniture. One of his first projects was that bedroom set I’d taken for granted. Each swirl in the wood was there because he carved it in place. The dresser matched the vanity and the bed because he made the set.

All of a sudden the furniture evolved from a nice set that I appreciated when I was exhausted from travel. Now, I view it as a treasure. It’s a treasure because a man I love and respect poured his energy and creativity into it.

After hearing the story and heritage of those pieces, I was quick to let Grandpa know I would exercise my right as his oldest grandchild to claim the furniture if none of his children wanted it or had room for it. It’s a set I would add to my home with pride because I know, love, and respect the man who crafted it all those years ago.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
GIVEAWAY!
Leave a comment with a valid email address by midnight, January 15th
to be entered for a free copy of
Cherry Blossom Capers which includes Cara's novella,
Dying for Love
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Cherry Blossom Capers, Barbour Books, Available Now

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Cherry Hill Blossoms contains
 4 novellas set in Washington, DC:

Cara's novella:  Dying for Love

Attorney Ciara Turner is horrified when she stumbles over a judge’s dead body in Alexandria. Will she be able to retain her composure and control when she joins her nemesis Daniel Evans in investigating the murder? Constantly on the opposite side of domestic cases, they have to work together to find the murderer…just in case the police and marshals run out of luck. As they are thrust back together, Ciara is reminded of how Daniel swept her off her feet as a clerk. Now she has to choose whether to risk her heart to love.

You can find Cara online at the following sites:

http://www.caraputman.com

http://blog.caraputman.com

http://www.facebook.com/cara.putman

Lauralee Bliss: True Heroines of Long Ago & Giveaway

11/13/2011

 

This week we welcome Lauralee Bliss to Author Memories.

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Lauralee Bliss has always liked to dream big dreams.
Part of that dream was writing, and after several years
of hard work, the dream of publishing was realized in
1997 with the publication of her first romance novel, Mountaintop, through Barbour Publishing. Since then, she's had over twenty books published in both historical and contemporary.
Lauralee is also an avid hiker, completing the entire length of the Appalachian Trail both north and south, one of only 24 women to have accomplished this feat. Lauralee makes her home with her family in Virginia in the foothills of the Blue Ridge Mountains.

True Heroines of Long Ago
by Lauralee Bliss

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Back some forty years ago, the celebrated heroines were quite different than they are today.  I remember my great delight in scanning the Christmas catalogs for toys I wanted as a child and came across this picture of great costumes for children. One of them is a nurse's uniform. Yes, these angels of mercy were adored back in my day. They were classified as true heroines. To me growing up, it was quite glamorous to bandage a wound, put a cloth on a fevered brow, comfort those in misery.

One Christmas I was given a doctor kit like the one shown here to use in my playtime. I adored it. It had everything from tiny plastic pill bottles to a play sphygmomanometer (to take a blood pressure), stethoscope, thermometer, and tiny box of band aids.

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Sears 1975 Wishbook, Photo on Flikr by Wishbook
I recall one day when my sisters and I created a “doll hospital.” The dolls were our patents. We had a tray on wheels which we used as a stretcher. We wheeled the injured dolls into the laundry room which served as the examination room. I’d take out my pride and joy, the black doctor’s kit with the big red cross on it and proceed to take a blood pressure and put a tiny band-aid on a tiny plastic leg. Then I would wrap it in a strip of cotton torn from Mom’s old sheets. Eventually all this interest led to a Bachelor of Science degree in nursing and going on to practice for several years at a big teaching hospital.

Oh, those were the days and good ones when true heroines for little girls, like nurses and teachers, were admired and adored. I wish we could return to that kind of admiration these days. Recalling when firemen, policemen, doctors, nurses were heralded for their brave deeds.

Maybe that’s why I like writing historical novels. I like to examine the tried and true heroine of days gone by, when caring for the home and hearth were prized. I like to reflect on that period of time that made this country great. When women taught their children and maintained the strength and dignity of the home. In my newest release
"A Quaker Christmas" the heroine ultimately becomes a “nurse" of the heart for the wounded hero injured by a terrible crime committed to a beloved family member. In this we see that nursing the injured can take on other forms besides hands on care such as giving words of healing and comfort, providing shelter, showing mercy.

Much has changed since these simple times of long ago, but I was encouraged just
today in church when I learned of at least four women looking to make nursing their profession. While it may not be the heroine’s costume of choice in a toy catalog, the call to care for others and be a light in times of great need still beckons to the heart and soul. True heroines can be found and cherished even today.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Leave a comment with a valid email address by midnight, Nov 20th
to be entered to win a copy of Lauralee's 2009 Christmas book, 
Love Finds You in Bethlehem, NH.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Lauralee's newest release is a Christmas novella, A Crossroad to Love in:
A Quaker Christmas, Barbour Books, Sep 2011

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A Quaker Christmas back cover blurb:
Christmas is a simple matter among the Quakers of the historic Ohio River Valley, but can it be time to welcome love into four households?
 
A Crossroad to Love, a novella 
by Lauralee Bliss:
The Hall family runs an inn that welcomes travelers like Silas Jones who challenge their beliefs and woo their daughter.
 
plus 3 more novellas in this anthology.


You can find Lauralee online at these sites:

Website:  http://www.lauraleebliss.com

Blog:  http://www.blissfullifejourney.com

“Readers of Author Lauralee Bliss” on Facebook:
https://www.facebook.com/pages/Readers-of-Author-Lauralee-Bliss/170259122202

Follow Lauralee on Twitter – @lauraleebliss

Rose Allen McCauley: A Precious Gift & Book Giveaway

8/28/2011

 

This week we welcome Rose Allen McCauley to Author Memories. 

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Rose Allen McCauley is happy to live in the beautiful bluegrass region of Kentucky on a farm surrounded by God’s creation. She has been writing for over ten years and has been published in several non-fiction anthologies and devotionals. She is thrilled for this to be her first published fiction because Christmas books are her favorites.

A retired schoolteacher who has been happily married to her college sweetheart for over 43 years, she is also mother to three grown children and their spouses and Mimi to three lovely, lively grandkids!


A Precious Gift
by Rose Allen McCauley

As the oldest of seven children with an alcoholic father, my siblings and I had very few worldly possessions. Much of what we did have was given to us by church members or our grandparents. Since there were so many of us and so few possessions, after our parents died we divided up mainly small mementoes. Each of us daughters received one of my mom’s butterfly pins and got to choose the pictures that were special to us. I was surprised and pleased when my younger sisters decided that as the oldest I should have the family Bible.

This Bible is falling apart, held together with love and tape. The cover is black with faded gold embossing of a design and this verse on the front cover: “The Law of the Lord is perfect; the Precepts of the Lord are right; the Testimony of the Lord is sure; the Commandment of the Lord is pure.” There are gold index markers with the names of the books of the Bible on them running up and down the sides of the pages, so as I look through it, I place my thumbs on the same worn tabs my grandmother and mother’s thumbs used to guide them through God’s Word.
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My grandmother had bought this Bible from a traveling salesman in 1952 when I was only three years old. The Bible bears my grandmother’s and my mother’s handwriting of births and deaths and marriages and other milestones in our family. It is also the only record I have of my great-grandparents’ names. I can remember as a young girl reading Grandma’s Bible when I would visit her, and especially enjoying the bluish colored pictures telling the life of Jesus and a section with colored pictures of the Holy Land. This Bible also bears several passages underlined by my mother that encouraged her.

To someone else this Bible might not look like much. It might even be thrown away or put out of sight. But in my home, this Bible is placed on a bookshelf with pictures of my mother and other family members around it. It is tenderly handled with love for those who went before and our Lord Who had guided us down through the generations as our Heavenly Shepherd.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Leave a comment with a valid email address by midnight, Sep 4th
if you want to be entered to win a copy of Rose's  book,
Christmas Belles of Georgia.
Name will also go in the draw for the
Welcome Prize Giveaway.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Christmas Belles of Georgia, Barbour Books
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back cover blurb:

Surprised by Life—and Love—at Christmas

Four letters are mailed from Monticello, a small antebellum town in Georgia. Sisters once, now heirs to a historic plantation, each young woman must come to terms with the circumstances of her birth. . . .

When she learns in a letter she’s adopted, Holly feels betrayed by her parents—and she books a flight out of Missouri immediately. Will she ever be able to love again?

Raised in a wealthy, loveless home, Carol rushes to Monticello from college in Atlanta when she receives her letter. She’s searching for family, but finds instead a boy she once mistreated. Will he remember her? . . .forgive her?

In one year, Starr has lost her parents, boyfriend, and job, so she’s sure her letter is more bad news. When the attorney flies to California to offer proof, Starr takes a second look—at the message and the man.

Noelle always knew she was adopted—and she’s always loved the foreman on her father’s Texas ranch too. But he’s so distant. . .perhaps a trip to Georgia is the break in life she needs.

Will the sisters receive a traditional Christmas gift. . .of love?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You can reach Rose through her
website at  
www.rosemccauley.com or
blogsite at
www.rosemccauley.blogspot.com

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