Devotion: The Power of the Negative ~ by Shirley Corder

In Numbers chapters 13 and 14 we read how the Children of Israel finally arrived at the borders of the Promised Land, Canaan.

Following God's instructions, Moses sent 12 spies into the land to "Look the land over, see what it is like. Assess the people: Are they strong or weak?" (Num 13:18 MSG.)"

Note, they were not told to decide whether or how they would take over the land—only to learn all they could about the country and report back.

Two of the spies returned with favorable reports. The other ten agreed the land had wonderful fruit, and even showed a sample of juicy pomegranates and figs, plus a huge cluster of grapes, so large it took two men to carry it.

BUT . . .

They were terrified of the people they saw. "Alongside them we felt like grasshoppers!"

The negative reports of just ten people spread like lightening through the nation, as bad news always does. They told their listeners that the land was one that "swallows people whole." Really?

This was the Promised Land which God had promised to His people generations ago. This was the same land which the Israelites had traveled for months across desert wasteland and gone through tremendous heartache to reach. And now they doubted?

Unbelievably, they listened to the negative talk. Forget God's promise. Forget the wonderful fruit. Forget Caleb and Joshua who thought they should step forward in faith and take the land. "Why didn't we die in Egypt?" they wailed.

What does that mean to us today? Where are the comparisons? I believe they are all around us.

Here in South Africa our politics are in a real mess. And yes, I know we're not the only country.

FeesMustFall protest, Cape Town University

Every night we switch on the TV to watch demonstrations, protests and violence. Tear gas and rubber bullets fly on our university campuses many of which have been closed for weeks due to the unrest. And here in our country, this is the end of the year for the students. They face their major examinations.

Last week saw outright fighting in the local municipal council, with one counselor smashing a glass jug over the head of another! We have a state president charged with fraud. We've seen false accusations and arrests of people in high office. And all of these events hit the financial status of our country, so that right now we are one step above "Junk Status". Prices escalate from week to week.

Negative voices abound. It's difficult not to believe the stories of pending doom for our country. And that may well be true of yours too.

And yet? Through it all, we have a mighty God—the same God that told the Children of Israel to have faith and conquer the land.

So who should we be listening to? Certainly not to the "Gloom and Doom" people. Their stories get more embellished as they spread through the country. There is only One who can bring peace to our troubled land and to yours.

It is surely time we stand together as God's people across the continents and pray for our countries. Instead of echoing the negative voices, let's start giving a positive message. Do the schools in your land still teach children about God? How about a positive suggestion of what we can do? Are young people being encouraged to respect their elders? How can we as Christian adults encourage them to show respect? Are parents supported as they seek to discipline their children? Talk with other parents who share your concerns and seek a solution. And pass on the positive news.

Only two men on the border of the Promised land said, "We can do it!" They were overruled by the majority who brought a negative report. Fellow Christians, let us intensify our prayers for God to raise up Godly leadership across our lands. Let us speak as one voice to the world, calling on the people to trust the One, the only One, who can sort out our political turmoil.

Yes, there may be giants to overcome, but as Caleb said so many years ago, "We can do it!" (Num 13:30).

Pray with me now?

O Lord God of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob; God of Moses, Caleb and Joshua; You are also our God. 

Our countries are in a mess. Forgive us for listening to the wrong voices. You, Lord, hold the answers. Help us as your children to speak out with words of faith. 

We don't know the solution to the unrest and confusion. Our leaders don't either. But we do know in Your Strength, we can do whatever You ask of us. Help us, Lord, to overcome the power of the negative in our countries. In Jesus, Name, Amen.

If your country needs prayer right now, please leave a comment below, and let's agree to pray for one another during the weeks that lie ahead.


SHIRLEY CORDER lives on the coast of South Africa with her husband, Rob. She has recently embarked on a series of eBooks titled, Out of the Shadow. Book 1 is Naomi, Beloved Mother-in-Law and Book 2 is Eve, Mother of All. 

Her book, Strength Renewed: Meditations for your Journey through Breast Cancer contains 90 meditations based on her time in the cancer valley.

Sign up here to receive a short devotional message from Shirley in your inbox once a week.

Please visit Shirley through ShirleyCorder.com, where she encourages writers, or at  RiseAndSoar.com, where she encourages those in the cancer valley. You can also meet with her on Twitter or FaceBook.

Armchair Traveling

Those of us who hang out here at ICFW get to do a lot of armchair traveling, right? While many of us have done some international excursions, it's safe to guess none of us have been to all the countries represented by our authors and books.

I live in Canada and have been to many parts of the USA. I've also been to Bolivia, albeit many many years ago! I've traveled to a lot of other countries virtually, though.

I've been to Australia with Paula Vince and Narelle Atkins. I've been to Zambia and Finland with Marion Ueckermann. To England, France, and Scotland with Autumn Macarthur. Other places with others of you, and I love those connections!

My own fiction takes place in the USA and Canada, and to some of my readers stories set in Canada are as exotic as Africa. To me, they are "normal." Even my American-set tales are normal to me, as I live twenty minutes from my Farm Fresh Romance series' setting in northern Idaho. While I have to remember that some governmental and medical things will be handled differently there than at home, a farm is a farm and a romance is a romance.

While I was writing Plum Upside Down, the fifth Farm Fresh Romance, I discovered that I not only had a character with itchy feet, but that he actually planned to go on a missions trip… during the story. Not only that, but he thought the heroine should go, too.

Wait! That wasn't in the script! Who gave these people—and I use that term lightly because, after all, they are fictitious!—permission to have minds of their own and direct the plot?

Uh, yeah. That's the agreement God and I made a while back about this whole controlling-the-plotline thing. I was never very good at it, frankly, so when God offered to take over, He easily convinced me He could do a better job. And besides, who doesn't like to ditch a job he or she is abysmal at?

I'm getting used to stories veering off into left field while I run behind them, trying to pretend I'm in control. But Plum Upside Down presented two major issues that had me trying to pull back those reins.

1. It turns out that Chelsea Riehl had a lot in common with my younger self. Although raised in a Christian home, a graduate of a Christian school, and a believer since a young age, she struggled to FEEL God's personal and passionate love to her. Oh, man. I did not want to go here with this story, but by the time I realized what part of left field God was sending Chelsea and me to, it was too late. So, this novel took me into deep parts of myself that I hadn't planned to expose for all the world to read.

2. That aforementioned thing where Keanan Welsh decided to head off to Africa on a missions trip. This became a wedge between him and Chelsea… and between the characters and the author.

This series takes place on Green Acres Farm in northern Idaho! The characters sign on to work this piece of land in community. I did not give Keanan permission to jaunt halfway around the world, but he went anyway.

I panicked. For a bunch of reasons, Bolivia—the only country outside of North America I'd ever been to—wasn't going to work for this story.

The story needed Africa.

…and I needed help!

And God provided what was needed. When I asked Marion Ueckermann for some information and direction, she responded with an enthusiastic affirmative. She read my early draft and corrected my (many) misconceptions about South Africa. She gave me other ideas where my originals simply couldn't be morphed to fit. Plus she provided another contact, her niece, who just so happened to have trained in the very hospital in Pretoria I needed, and to have worked in the ICU there.

Isn't it awesome when God does that? Sometimes He provides far and away more than I dreamed. As the story crosses over the Christmas season, I'd added a scene in the first draft where a group of carolers came to the hospital and sang for the patients and visitors. This could easily happen in any Canadian hospital.

Marion and Melanie said it was completely foreign to South Africa, but Melanie gave me a different idea. Apparently the nurses themselves often sing at shift change. Old hymns and Negro spirituals are common. Melanie agreed that the nurses might sing Christmas songs in those styles, so I was able to shift the scene in that direction instead.

Here's a video of nurses singing that I used as my inspiration. I had them sing Rise Up Shepherd and Follow in the story.

If you're interested in a novel that travels from stuck-in-a-rut Christianity to sold-out while traveling from Idaho to South Africa, pick up a copy of Plum Upside Down!

Interested in reading Plum Upside Down? I am offering one reader a copy (e-book only, worldwide). If you'd like to put your name in the hat, please add your email address with your comment before Saturday, August 22, replacing @ with (at) and .com with (dot) com.

"Void where prohibited; the odds of winning depend on the number of entrants. Entering the giveaway is considered a confirmation of eligibility on behalf of the enterer in accord with these rules and any pertaining local/federal/international laws."

Valerie Comer's life on a small farm in western Canada provides the seed for stories of contemporary inspirational romance. Like many of her characters, Valerie and her family grow much of their own food and are active in the local food movement as well as their church. She only hopes her creations enjoy their happily ever afters as much as she does hers, shared with her husband, adult kids, and adorable granddaughters.

DEVOTION: Significant Names ~ Shirley Corder

It's crazy the amount of time and effort we authors can spend trying to come up with a suitable name for our Work In Progress, especially when we know it will almost certainly undergo a name change if it is bought by a publisher. 

For example, my book with the working title of Rise and Soar above the Cancer Valley, has as its key Scripture, Isaiah 40:31: They that wait upon the Lord shall renew their strength. They shall mount up on wings as eagles. The beautiful cover portrays a woman with her arms outstretched, apparently preparing to rise and soar, and there are a number of meditations that refer to eagles. Yet the publishers changed its name to Strength Renewed, Meditations for Your Journey through Breast Cancer, still based on the same Scripture, but emphasizing a different part of the verse. That’s how it works in the publishing world.

As parents, we agonize over names for our babies when they are still in the womb. In our case, this was before the days of scans where you could learn the baby’s sex (which of course gives away my age) and so we had to be prepared with a boy’s name as well as a girl’s. A number of the young women in my family have given their unborn babies cutsie names, knowing they would change them after the baby’s birth. So we have had a Rosebud, a Sweetie Pie, a Strawberry, and even a Frog. In these cases I was more than a little relieved when their names were changed after birth.

Have you ever gone on a road trip or studied a map, and wondered why towns are named as they are? Here in South Africa, we have a small town in the Northern Cape called Pofadder, the Afrikaans translation of Puff Adder, which is one of our most venomous snakes. Did someone get bitten by a Puff Adder there? Who knows?

Klein Mier Nommer Een is a tiny town, also in the Northern Cape, which translated from Afrikaans means Little Ant Number One. Now where did that come from? It’s hard to believe there were so few little ants in that dusty little town, they started to number them!

On the West Coast, we find Tietiesbaai, which literally translated would be something like Boobies Bay, probably named after the many round smooth boulders dotted on its beautiful beach.

75 km from Cape Town we have a quaint farming town fittingly called Darling. Then in the North West province, some 200 km west of Pretoria, we have a dot on the map with the incredible name of Tweebuffelsmeteenskootmorsdoodgeskietfontein. Translated into English this means Two- buffalo-shot-dead-in-one-shot Spring. Really? 

Traveling through the Small Karoo Desert, you may stop at the little town which is a popular pit-stop for heavy trucks and holiday makers, called Leeu-Gamka. This is obviously so named because this is where the Leeu (Lion) River joins the Gamka River.

Then we have Ogies, which translates into Little Eyes, an old coal mining town in Mpumalanga, This apparently derived its name from a nearby farm, Oogiesfontein, or a fountain with many eyes (or springs).

If we turn to Scripture we see a similar pattern, where places were named after actual events, such as Jehovah-Jirah, meaning Jehovah will provide, the place where God provided Abraham with a ram for sacrifice in the place of his son, Isaac. Then there’s Beth-El, meaning House of God, at the place where Jacob dreamed of angels ascending and descending a ladder to Heaven. There are also places named after emotions such as Esek (meaning contention) and Sitnah (Enmity) where the Philistines fought with Isaac for the use of watering holes.

Dene Ward, in her devotional guide, Flight Paths, asks what we would call our homes. 

It's a good question. Would we name them after an emotion? Or after an event? What would be a good name for your home? Could you call it Beth-El, House of God? Or would it be more aptly called, Esek, because of the emotions that fly throughout the day?

If you were to give the place you live a new name today, what would it be? What title could you hang on the door that would give visitors an idea of what to expect when they entered into your home, whether it is a beautiful mansion or a one-roomed apartment? I dare you to share it as a comment below. Maybe your home already has a name. Please share it with us, and tell us how it got its name.

SHIRLEY CORDER lives on the coast in South Africa with her husband, Rob. Her book, Strength Renewed: Meditations for your Journey through Breast Cancer contains 90 meditations based on her time in the cancer valley.

Sign up here to receive a short devotional message from Shirley in your inbox once a week.

Please visit Shirley through ShirleyCorder.com, where she encourages writers, or at  RiseAndSoar.com, where she encourages those in the cancer valley. You can also meet with her on Twitter or FaceBook.  

HAMBA KAKUHLE TATA!

What an incredible week I’ve had. I fully intended blogging today on the birth of my grandson last Monday, or the arrival today of my youngest son from Finland whom I haven’t seen in over a year, or the signing and execution of a publishing contract with White Rose Publishers (Pelican Book Group) for my novelette set in Helsinki, Finland.

But on Friday, 6^th December, our nation woke to gray skies, heavy with rain—a fitting picture of South African hearts at the passing of anti-apartheid hero, Nelson Mandela, at 9 p.m. the night before. Our nation, and the world, is in mourning for this man revered as a moral giant.

I will never forget the day I first heard the name Nelson Mandela. I was about eighteen years old. A childhood friend and I were walking through the streets of Johannesburg. We’d both moved from our hometown to study and work in the city. As we chatted, she relayed the story about a T-shirt a varsity friend of hers had worn on campus. Written on the front were the words: Hang Nelson Mandela.

“Who’s Nelson Mandela?” I asked.

I grew up in the apartheid era. As my friend explained who Mandela was, an image formed in my mind. One that remained for many years. The man had been tried and sentenced to life in prison for high treason against the white-minority government and I came to see him as nothing more than a terrorist. This word struck fear in my heart, for these were the years when young white South African men (some my classmates) lost their lives on our borders fighting a war against terrorism.

But this exceptional man crept into the hearts of all South Africans, black and white alike. That is why I felt it fitting to use this blog post to pay tribute to a truly great man.

The morning after his death, the radio was abuzz with snippets of his life and interviews with those who knew him. I was particularly impressed by the interview with his Personal Assistant, Zelda la Grange.  After Mandela retired he was allowed to take one person from the staff with him into retirement—a privilege granted to all former presidents. He chose this white ‘boeremeisie’ (Afrikaans girl) who had come to be his secretary, butler, aide-de-camp, spokesperson, travelling companion, confidante and, honorary granddaughter.

Zelda relayed the story of the first time she met Nelson Mandela. She’d been working as a typist on the president’s personal staff for two weeks when she ran into him. He began to speak to her in a language she didn’t understand. “Pardon?” she said. When President Mandela spoke again, she realized he’d been addressing her in her native tongue, Afrikaans, something she hadn’t expected.

The reality of Nelson Mandela’s death hit home as I drove into work Friday morning and saw the row of flags flying half-mast on the flagpoles at our work entrance.

Seated at my desk, I scrolled through Facebook on my cellphone. The messages I found told the tale of a nation, and world, in mourning. The messages showed how revered and loved Nelson Mandela was—and still is:

• Our country is forever changed because of him.
• RIP Madiba. Thank you for bringing peace and hope to our country, South Africa. God bless Africa!
• Even the weather is mourning Madiba today.
• To an icon who epitomized humility and integrity! May his ideals live on in South Africa and beyond!
• Nelson Mandela faced racism face to face. With all of the challenges, his journey changed the course of history. He became an inspiration to so many, not only in South Africa, but around the world. His legacy will be remembered as one who accepted the mantle of leadership and responsibility. His example will be one of a hero to so many, regardless of nation, tribe or tongue! Thank you, Madiba, for choosing forgiveness and reconciliation over hate and conflict. RIP Madiba!
• Why do I feel like I’ve lost a friend? Hamba Kahle (Go well) Madiba. I will one day show my children photographs of you and say, “Look closely guys—that is the only evidence around today that proves that South Africa once had true leadership.”
• RIP Madiba. You showed humanity what can be achieved when we change our attitudes and perceptions.
• Fighting back the tears as we hear the sad/joyful news that the father of our nation rests now with The Lord of all creation. I can think of no other human being who has had more influence and wisdom and impact in so many lives and on this nation. An ordinary man. And we can call him ‘ours’. Thank you, Tata (Father). Today the angels are learning a new dance style in heaven – the Madiba!

• We mourn the passing of Nelson Mandela. God gave him to us to show the world that forgiveness can be shown by the great as well as the oppressed. He guided us through the transition of South Africa. May he rest in peace. He will never be forgotten and will always have a prominent place in the history of our land. May God comfort his family and our nation. RIP Madiba.
• RIP to an amazing leader. May we also strive to live a life of significance!
• Our challenge is to ensure that his vision lives on into the future. His genuineness and forthrightness will never be forgotten. What a privilege to have had a leader who walked and lived his truth.
• Humanity has not lost an icon, we have gained a legacy that we dare not disgrace.
• We will forever remember you, and the lessons you taught us. RIP Madiba.
• A true legend and selfless patriot of freedom has passed.Although I only lived in South Africa for the first part of my life, the ties I have to my country of birth are still strong within me. Today I feel a loss in my heart for the man who did so much to change a country of oppression into a brighter rainbow nation. It cannot be said enough: RIP Madiba.

Archbishop Desmond Tutu said, “The sun will rise tomorrow, and the next day and the next … It may not appear as bright as yesterday, but life will carry on.” With the rain, comes the rainbow, and Madiba (the honorary tribal name by which Mandela is largely known) has taught South Africa to be a true Rainbow Nation.

As one of my American Facebook friends rightly stated, South Africa could have had decades of civil war but for the attitude of Nelson Mandela.

In Mandela’s honor I’d like to post some of his top quotes. Each one is so challenging. What a man!

• “If I cannot change when circumstances demand it, how can I expect others to?”
• “What counts in life is not the mere fact that we have lived. It is what difference we have made to the lives of others that will determine the significance of the life we lead.”
• “For to be free is not merely to cast off one’s chains, but to live in a way that respects and enhances the freedom of others.”
• “Difficulties break some men but make others. No axe is sharp enough to cut the soul of a sinner who keeps on trying, one armed with the hope that he will rise even in the end.”
• “It always seems impossible until it's done.”
• “Lead from the back - and let others believe they are in front.”
• “I learned that courage was not the absence of fear, but the triumph over it. The brave man is not he who does not feel afraid, but he who conquers that fear.”

• “Do not judge me by my successes, judge me by how many times I fell down and got back up again.”
• “I could never reach the standard of morality, simplicity and love for the poor set by the Mahatma...While Gandhi was a human without weaknesses, I am a man of many weaknesses.”
• “It is never my custom to use words lightly. If 27 years in prison have done anything to us, it was to use the silence of solitude to make us understand how precious words are and how real speech is in its impact upon the way people live or die.”
• “The greatest glory in living lies not in never falling, but in rising every time we fall.”
• “I have cherished the ideal of a democratic and free society in which all persons live together in harmony and with equal opportunities. It is an ideal which I hope to live for and to achieve. But if needs be, it is an ideal for which I am prepared to die.”
• “When a man has done what he considers to be his duty to his people and his country, he can rest in peace.” (1996)

Hamba kakuhle tata! (Go well Father!) May your legacy of forgiveness, justice, equality and humanity live on forever.

 

 

Marion Ueckermann’s passion for writing was sparked in 2001 when she moved to Ireland with her husband and two sons. Since then she has published devotional articles and stories in Winners (2009), The One Year Devotional of Joy and Laughter (August 2011 - Tyndale House Publishers) and Chicken Soup for the Soul: Miraculous Messages from Heaven (15 October 2013). She blogs for International Christian Fiction Writers and belongs to Christian Writers of South Africa and American Christian Fiction Writers. She now lives in Pretoria East, South Africa in an empty nest with her husband and their crazy black Scottie, Wally.

 

 

 

 

Please Pray for South Africa

I had a writing-related blog post prepared for today. Because of time-zone differences, I usually wait until the morning my posts are due before publishing them. Yesterday I saw something in the news that shook me to my core and robbed me of most of my sleep last night.

South Africa is fast gaining a reputation as the rape capital of the world. The statistics are mind-boggling. What happened to Anene Booysen in Bredasdorp on February 2nd, however, is beyond belief. 17 year old Anene was on her way home when she was raped, mutilated, and left for dead. She passed away later in hospital, having named one of her three attackers.

I would advise you not to read the details of the crime. I woke up last night in a cold sweat. As a father of a girl not much older than Anene, my mind struggled to cope with the possibility that there are people in this world who can commit such a barbaric act.

So instead of posting my usual blog, I would like to ask you to pray for South Africa. The sexual violence so prevalent in that beautiful country needs to stop, and only God can turn men's hearts from evil. Please pray for Anene's family and friends, especially Anene's mother.

There's No Place Like Home

When people ask me where I'm from (a question that often follows shortly after I say a few words in my rather odd accent) I usually pause before giving a reply. It's a simple question that most people can answer without much thought. For me, however, depending on the circumstances and how long I want the conversation to last, I can give one of four answers:
- England (I was born there)
- South Africa (I was raised there)
- USA (I was conceived there)
- Holland (I've lived there for twelve years)

I used to have a strong Blackpool accent. I only lived there till age five, but that was long enough for me to sound thoroughly Lancastrian. I remember once swimming in the sea in Cape Town and bumping into someone. I turned and, in perfect Blackpudlian, said: "Sozz 'ey!". The gentleman looked at me with a blank expression. I suddenly realized what I had said and offered a quick translation: "Sorry!"

Actually, I was probably incomprehensible to most South Africans during my first year in the country, but then I struggled just as hard to get a grip on their language. The standard South African greeting of: "Howzit?" initially elicited a response from me of: "Fine thanks. How are you?" This generally resulted in a puzzled look. Only later did I realize that "howzit" was South African slang for "hello". So I was effectively having the following conversation:
South African: "Hello!"
Me: "Fine thanks. How are you?"

No wonder they gave me funny looks. Thanks to the vagaries of South African slang, I spent most of the first few years wondering what language the other kids were speaking. It was allegedly English, but many words were incomprehensible. Here are the ones I remember hearing the most:
ag (with a guttural "g" similar to the "ch" in Scottish "loch) - oh
just now - in a minute (but can also mean: "at some unknown time in the future")
bra - pal, male friend
braai - barbecue
tune - talk
klap - hit
lighty - younger, smaller person
heavy - arrogant person, bully
kiff - cool (nice)
ja-nee - literally "yes-no", meaning a hesitant agreement¨
lekker - nice
china - friend
pozzie - house
jammie - car
ek sê - I say
park off - sit down, relax
tea room - corner shop

A typical conversation between Durban teenagers might include something like this: "Howzit going my china? You wanna bring your jammie round to my pozzie so we can park off and have a braai, ek sê?"  This translates roughly as: "Hi buddy. Do you want to drive round to my place and we can relax and have a barbecue?"

I eventually lost my Blackpool accent and picked up a South African version, although it seemed to settle somewhere between the two. South Africans thought I was from New Zealand while the English often assumed I was from the US (although some accused me of "talking posh"). While my accent was (and still is) uncertain, my loyalties have always been firmly rooted in South Africa. I don't remember my first three years of life, so I only have memories of four years in England. By contrast, I spent my formative years in South Africa. We moved around a lot, but I did spend my entire high school career in one place, so I consider myself a South African. English by birth, yes, but South African at heart. To this day, if England play rugby against the Springboks, I support the men in green and gold.

As for Holland, well I'm undecided. There are strong ties between South Africa and the Dutch. Sometimes when I listen to a Dutch person speaking, I can almost imagine them sitting around a braai with a Lion lager in one hand and a plate loaded with boerewors in the other. Perhaps that's why we've been living there so long. I tried Belgium for a year but never felt at home, even though one of their official languages is a dialect of Dutch which sounds quite similar to Afrikaans. They were usually friendly until they realized we weren't local, so I never felt at home there.

Last week we bought the DVD of the 2012 London Olympics, and something strange happened. For the first time in my twenty five years away from South Africa, I found myself feeling proud of the British athletes. Perhaps all this time away from the country where I grew up is starting to take its toll. Perhaps my allegiances are starting to shift. Perhaps my country of birth is finally winning my loyalty. After all, Britain is a pretty amazing place and I do have fond memories from my few early years. The litmus test, however, will be three years from now. The rugby world cup is being held in Britain in 2015. I'm curious to see who I'll be supporting when England and South Africa take to the field. Twenty eight years is a long time, so it could go either way, but I suspect I know which team I'll be rooting for.

Now if you'll excuse me my china, I have to take my jammie to the tea room before heading to my pozzie. If the weather is lekker this weekend, we'll be needing meat for the braai, ek sê.

A Good Year

It’s great to be back in the ICFW writing seat after so many months of absence. This year, life has consisted of four weddings and a funeral. Yep, I know that sounds like a movie, as does the title of this blog, but seriously, that really has been 2012 for me.

When both my sons got engaged last year, I knew 2012 would be the year of weddings. Sadly though, a month after my brother’s mother-in-law was diagnosed with cancer in January, she passed away and so the funeral that I so dreaded when I joked about having four weddings, happened.

On April 23rd, my youngest son, Kyle, married his Finnish sweetheart. This was only a marriage on paper however, done to aid the process of his Finnish residency application. Kyle and Tiia determined to wait for their church wedding on July 7th, which my husband and I planned to attend ... in Finland!

 

So, between arranging two August weddings merely three days apart in South Africa (from florist to wedding co-ordinator, and everything in between), I now also had to arrange an overseas trip, with an outreach to Romania thrown in for good measure. Thankfully, I had nothing to do with any arrangements for the Finnish wedding – I just had to be there.

January to August passed in a blur of tuxedos, satin, roses, horse-drawn carriages, the luxurious colours of burgundy, olive green and silver, and a twelve-metre veil that needed beading stitched on both sides for Ryan and Amy’s fairytale wedding, to the earthy browns of hessian, baskets, picnic blankets, origami flowers, chinos and Jesus sandals for Kyle’s missionary wedding. Two totally different weddings, but equally fun to plan and execute.

 

 The wedding in Finland was beautiful. Azure skies formed the chapel roof, tall green pines its walls and a grey lake reflected behind the bridal couple like a gigantic window looking into forever. Finnish weddings are quite different to what we’re used to with games played, songs and dances performed by family children, and a ritual kidnapping of the bride and her subsequent rescue by the groom.

 

 

Noel and I definitely amassed beautiful memories from our sons’ weddings and emerged from this hectic time as very proud parents.

 

After the wedding in Finland we were privileged to spend ten tranquil days with friends at their summer cottage beside an enormous lake in the southeast of Finland ... along with a dozen fabulous young adults who had been on missionary training in South Africa with Kyle last year. Here we were immersed in the cultures of sauna and roasting makra. What fun it was to row on the lake, find new islands to explore – some not much bigger than a very large rock; watch my hubby fish while I settled down on the wooden jetty with the Ted Dekker novel I’d packed (The Bride Collector ... wonder what inspired that choice); or head off into the forest blueberry picking! 

 

During our time there we visited the quaint town of Savonlinna. Every year  the internationally renowned Savonlinna Opera Festival is held inside the walls of the medieval Olavinlinna Castle. 2012 was the centennial celebrations. It was awesome to have a backstage tour tagged onto our castle tour ticket, where we got a peak into dressing rooms, prop rooms, costume wardrobes, seating inside the opera and stage set-up. Five operas held over a month with two stage changes every day. The Magic Flute, The Flying Dutchman, and Aida were matched with two world premieres: La Fenice and Free Will, the first ever opera born on the Internet and created by an online community.

We also visited the world's largest wooden church in Kerimaki.

After a great time of rest and boosting ourselves on tiny blue super fruit  in the form of blueberry pancakes, blueberry pie, or just plain blueberries and cream - sadly we ran out of time to make blueberry jam - we headed south. Armed with one small 10kg bag, we boarded a Ryan Air flight to Budapest. It took a good portion of our three hour layover to find the big orange midnight bus headed for Cluj-Napoca, Romania. 

The week in Romania, working in the gypsy village, Dallas, with ProRoma was hard but rewarding. Our team of ten demolished a shack and built a new two-roomed home in its place, finished another home built by a previous team, painted the prayer room (decorative sponge painting and all), played with the children, mixed cement and dug trenches. It felt really good to hand over a new home to the father and mother of three lovely young girls. How humbling to know God has used you to make a difference in someone’s life. You can read more at http://romania.the-rebirth.com/

And in Romania we learnt all about Romanian hospitality in new friends, our hosts. I hope someday we will be able to return their kindness in true South African style.

From the time we landed back on South African soil, I had nine days to finalise Ryan and Kyle’s weddings. Between returning to work, final venue meetings, bridal showers, bachelors’ parties, collecting hire items, making bouquets, finalising seating arrangements, final printing, buying food items, etcetera, etcetera, life was a flurry of activity. Suffice it to say, I literally vegetated for the rest of August and well into September, as I tried to catch my breath after this rewarding, albeit hectic year.

 

 

But all through the hustle and bustle of weddings on two opposite ends of the world, bride kidnappings, initiations, children, gypsies, castles, cathedrals, street markets, shacks, forests, lakes, and not forgetting blueberries, my writer’s mind was like a sponge. I absorbed every sight and smell, every landscape and face, every cultural difference, every new friendship, every piece of history, storing them away as I wait for that one new story to emerge from any of these experiences.  Will it be set in the forests of Finland, or within the solid walls of an ancient castle, or in the dirty streets of a gypsy village? Will my protagonist be a medieval knight, or a cagey gypsy with an attitude as large as the gold earring that dangles from his right ear, or a scantily clad child living off the garbage dumps? Will the story be historical, telling of unending feuds between Russians and Swedes, or will it tell a tale of murder and mystery when a bride goes missing after a traditional wedding prank? Who knows? I, for one, cannot wait to find out!

Book Review: Diamonds in the Dust by Shirley Mowat Tucker

by Narelle Atkins

Diamonds in the Dust (Athanatos Publishing Group, 2011) is Shirley Mowat Tucker’s powerful and extraordinary novel set in modern day South Africa.

Widowed and childless, Ida Morgan lives in her secure and comfortable home and struggles to rebuild her life after her husband’s brutal murder a few years earlier. She rescues a young girl from a plastic garbage bin floating in a swollen river and begins a life changing adventure that will challenge her attitude and beliefs concerning the plight of orphaned children.

A fast paced story ensues with a cast of characters who pulled at my heart strings and drew me into their incredible story of survival and hope against unspeakable evil and danger. The social fabric of South African society is exposed and the characters are inspired to leave their comfort zone and take action to right some of the wrongs in their community.

Diamonds in the Dust is a beautifully plotted page turner that I couldn’t put down and read within twenty-four hours. A captivating and honest story of forgiveness and redemption, I recommend this book to those looking for a compelling and thought provoking story that tackles tough social issues.

To learn more about Shirley and her publishing journey, please check out the following posts from October and December 2011 by Ruth Ann Dell:

Guest Blog by the Publisher of Shirley Tucker's "Diamonds in the Dust"

Interview with Shirley Tucker and Giveaway

To learn more about Diamonds in the Dust, please visit Shirley Tucker's website http://www.DiamondsInTheDust.net

Narelle Atkins writes contemporary inspirational romance. She resides in Canberra, Australia with her husband and children. She can also be found at the Christian Writers Downunder blog. To learn more about Narelle, please visit her website.

DEVOTION: Magnificent Creation- Shirley Corder

First this: God created the Heavens and Earth—all you see, all you don't see. Earth was a soup of nothingness, a bottomless emptiness, an inky blackness. God's Spirit brooded like a bird above the watery abyss. God spoke: "Light!" And light appeared. God saw that light was good and separated light from dark. God named the light Day, he named the dark Night. It was evening, it was morning-- Day One. (Genesis 1:1-5 MSG)

    I stood at one of the stalls at a craft market next to the national road. All over the ground were intricate wooden carvings of animals ranging from ten centimetre chameleons to two metre giraffes. Every one of these carvings was created by a skilled craftsman. We have no problem accepting that.

     Imagine if I were to pick on a tourist and explain, "These just arrive here every weekend. No one makes them you know. They just create themselves out of dust." My guess is that the tourist would put a speedy distance between me and him, and decide that some South Africans have some very strange ideas. Yet some highly qualified people expect us to believe even more far-fetched ideas than this.

     Paul Charles William Davies, is an English physicist, writer and broadcaster, and currently a professor at the Arizona State University. He is quoted as saying, "Nobody knows how a mixture of lifeless chemicals spontaneously organized themselves into the first living cell." Andrew Knoll,  Fisher Professor of Natural History and a Professor of Earth and Planetary Sciences at Harvard University, said, "We don't really know how life originated on this planet." Such erudite men, yet they don't know where life came from. They honestly want us to believe we "spontaneously organized" ourselves into human beings? Oh please.

     Next time you set to work, I challenge you to assemble the tools of your trade on your desk. See to it that your computer and printer are switched on. Check your Internet connection. Put paper in the printer and make sure you have a full ink cartridge. Now stand back and watch for the results. Of course, if we're to listen to the evolutionists, you may have to wait a billion or so years. But eventually, can you imagine the amazing story or article that could result? Without any involvement from you.
   
     That's just plain silly!


     Surely it is much simpler to believe the Bible's explanation? There has to be a Master Craftsman behind the creation of every creature, including you and me. I don't want to be a result of an accident, or some sort of spontaneous fluke. I love the idea that I have been planned and put together by a magnificent God. He knows why He created me. He knows what I'm capable of doing. And He will never expect me to cope with more than I'm able to deal with.

     So rather than waiting a couple of billion years, next time you start a new article, chapter or even sentence, why not follow your Creator's example. Have a plan, add some creativity, and produce something you can be proud of. Something that will cause your reader to say, "Hey! This is good. It's very good. I want to know more."

     As you complete each project, each book, each article, take some time to admire it, enjoy it, and think, "I created this." Then picture God looking down on you, taking pleasure in your enjoyment, and feeling proud of His creation.

PRAYER: Lord, thank you for making me a part of this amazing miracle we call Earth. Thank you for the incredible ingenuity and attention to detail which you used as you made mankind in your own image. As I attempt, in a very small way, to create characters, situations, and scenic backgrounds, help me to remember what a magnificent world you created. But then, I wouldn't have expected anything less from such a magnificent God. Amen.

Shirley M. Corder lives on the coast of South Africa, surrounded by the beauties of God's creation.  Please pay a visit to her personal website, where her goal is to encourage and inspire other writers, or Rise and Soar, her site to encourage and inspire those in the cancer valley. Link up with her on Twitter and FaceBook.

DEVOTION: Where Is My Focus? - Shirley Corder

God looked over everything he had made; it was so good, so very good! It was evening, it was morning; Day 6.
(Genesis 1:31 MSG)

I recently joined a newly formed camera club. At the second meeting, the lecturer taught us some techniques concerning our choice of subjects. He projected various photographs onto the wall, and explained what made them great pictures, or where their weaknesses lay. Each time, he emphasized the need for a focal point. There was no such thing as just a beautiful view. There was always a main focus, perhaps a beautiful rose, a sunset, or a ship.

He showed us a picture of a beautiful garden. Flowering shrubs and shaped hedges surrounded manicured lawns. Overhead, the sky was an azure blue with wisps of soft white cloud—a stunning  photograph. High up in the sky, an eagle hovered.

"Where is the focus of this picture?" he asked us. Obviously, the photographer had intended to take a photo of the beautiful gardens. It is likely that he spotted the eagle and planned to include him in the picture. "Notice something interesting," the speaker continued. "See how your eyes are drawn to the eagle. You look at the gardens. Then you glance back at the bird." He explained how any animal or bird in a picture always dominates the picture, no matter how small it may be.

He showed us further examples. Sure enough, it happened every time. Our eyes were drawn toward any animal or bird in the picture.

A thick forest stood on a carpet of wild flowers. Nestled on a branch of a gnarled old tree, lay a nest of twigs with three little heads peering over the top. The nest was tiny, the baby birds even tinier. Yet they became the focus of the photograph.

"Now look at this," he continued. He put up a photograph showing two majestic mountains, one on the right and the other on the left. High in the brilliant blue African sky an eagle or vulture hovered, too small to identify. But the bird wasn't the focus. Where the mountains came together to form a V, a young woman stood, arms stretched upwards. She was small, but immediately we all reacted. "The woman is the focus."

The lecturer smiled, then explained that where life, as in animals or birds, dominate a photograph, when a human being appears, he or she is always the main focus of the picture.

This fascinated me, both as a Christian and as a writer.

When God created the world, he created a magnificent backdrop of mountains, seas, deserts, waterfalls, sandy beaches, mighty rivers and dramatic jungles. And He said "They're good!" Then He created us—men and women—and He said, "They're very good!" Suddenly mankind was the focus of God's entire picture of creation.

When God looks at the world, He doesn't focus on the mountain, the seas, or the other splendours. He focuses on mankind. He looks at you, and he looks at me. Does He smile and say, "This is very good"?  Do I make my creator proud?

For me as a writer, this reminds me of the importance of building realistic characters. No matter how good my plot or background may be, it's the characters that make the story. It's the people with whom the readers identify.

I write mainly non-fiction, especially of a devotional nature. If my writing is only about worldly or theological issues, I'm not likely to reach my reader. I need to write about real people, address my writing to real people, encourage and inspire real people. Why? Because they are the focal point of God's creation.

Prayer: Lord God, it astounds me that with all the beauty and magnificence of your creation around, your real focus is on me. Help me to bring honour to your Name, that when people look at me they may say, "God is good—He's very good."

Shirley M. Corder lives on the coast of South Africa, surrounded by the beauties of God's creation.  Please pay a visit to her personal website, where her goal is to encourage and inspire other writers, or Rise and Soar, her site to encourage and inspire those in the cancer valley. Link up with her on Twitter and FaceBook.

Those Writer Relationships

Sunday dinner of lasagna, salad, and French bread eaten outdoors in a lovely summer garden—what better way for writing friends to get together? Only some of these friends were meeting for the first time. When my work with SIM (Serving in Mission) recently took me to South Africa, I was quick to get in touch with Ruth Dell, Marion Ueckermann and Shirley Corder, my South African colleagues on this blog. It may surprise you to know that most of us who write for International Christian Fiction Writers have never met in person.  We live in scattered parts of the world, but we share a passion to open the door to fiction about a variety of places and cultures.

LeAnne and Shirl

Leaving Cape Town, my husband and I drove through the gorgeous winelands and stark Karoo region of the southernmost part of this spectacular continent. We passed through Port Elizabeth and met Shirley and her husband for lunch overlooking the Indian Ocean. While our husbands talked about their ministries, Shirley told me about what she had done in NaNoWriMo and about the Christian Writers Group-South Africa, an interactive Internet group for writers living in South Africa or for South Africans living abroad. They seek to encourage, share, and learn from one another.  When I got to Grahamstown and met with Crystal Warren, a librarian at the National English Language Museum who shares my interest in literature for African young people in the context of HIV&AIDS, I found she was also a member of the group and knew Shirley.

Marion
LeAnne, Ruth Ann, Shann

It was almost a month later before I was able to get together with Marion and Ruth for that lasagna dinner in Pretoria. Their husbands waited patiently in the garden while we writers talked in the kitchen. They introduced me to Shann de Smidt, another member of Christian Writers Group-South Africa. Shann is the newly appointed principal of a Christian school, and we eagerly discussed possibilities for a reading series with a Biblical worldview.

Writing can be lonely business.  Your characters run around in your mind, teasing you, vexing you and delighting you with their revelations, but your family doesn’t even know these people who mean so much to you. You sit alone at your desk and pour out your heart day after day, but it may be years before your intended audience reads what you have written. 

If you write, I hope you cultivate relationships with other writers. Being with other writers lets you know that you are not the only one who is crazy has this obsession.  Whether it is in a writing club, a critique group or an e-mail pen-pal, a writer friend gives you someone who understands the creative process. Your family may share your disappointment when that rejection letter arrives, but they probably think that means it’s time to give up.  Your writer friend knows this is only the beginning—time to do some polishing and try again, time to try a different angle or tackle a whole new project.  Your writing friend will be thrilled with you when the rejection includes a personal note. Non-writers assume rejection is rejection, but writers know how much better personal rejection is than that standard form letter with a checkmark beside “does not meet our current editorial needs”.

Writing friends are your source of information on what is going on in the publishing world. Their past experience can open doors of possibility for you. They form a network that can introduce you to others who share your passion, and give you feedback on which conferences are most worthwhile, which agents the easiest to work with, which self-publishers you should avoid. They are your best critics to help you prepare your work for submission to an agent or publisher.

My first advice to aspiring writers is always to read a book about how to write effective fiction. My second advice? Make friends with other writers.

So cultivate those relationships, and when you get to Wisconsin, look me up, although I don’t promise my lasagna will be as tasty as Marion’s or my garden as sunny!

___

LeAnne Hardy has lived in six countries on four continents. Her books for young people come out of her cross-cultural experiences and her passion to use story to convey spiritual truths in a form that will impact lives. You can find out more about her experiences in South Africa on her blog.  (Click on February and March entries in the archive.)