He Knows The Way by Idella Borntrager Otto

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He Knows The Way by Idella Borntrager Otto is Ms. Otto’s debut novel.

Back Cover Blurb:

Ellen, a young northern Mennonite nurse is transplanted into the chaos of Mississippi’s church bombings and cross burning. When danger from the Ku Klux Klan lurks, the scripture text “He knows the way that I take and when He has tested me I will come forth as gold” nibbles at her mind like a broken record. She searches for a sense of direction.

Lord, did I misread your leading to serve you in Mississippi? I don’t need to be gold. Silver or pewter would be just fine. In the midst of racial violence, Ellen re-examines her peace-loving faith while trying to unscramble her feelings which vacillate between a handsome Yankee and her southern pastor’s engaging son.

My Review:

He Knows The Way grabbed my attention from the start with a scene of heart-pounding danger — Ellen arriving to do a job as men with guns block her path. She is alone. She is in Mississippi during racial tensions in the 1960s.

More danger crops up as the Ku Klux Klan burns a cross on the lawn of somewhere Ellen has been ministering to someone preventing Ellen from continuing in this ministry with a woman she has become very fond of.

Ellen, a young northern Mennonite nurse, struggles with the attitudes of people in the south who look down on those who are different and don’t want to treat them as human beings. In one situation, Ellen shows great courage and breaks a southern segregation rule, then fears she will lose her job for doing so.

She is encouraged to go to a school in Virginia to get her B.S.N. and apply for a nursing director position. She goes off to school where she meets a young man, and the two begin spending quite a bit of time together.

Then Ellen goes home for a school break and meets her southern pastor’s son and spends time with him.

She returns to school in Virginia, confused with tangled feelings. She prays the Lord would direct her and show her which young man is the one she might one day marry.

Between the southern tensions and the struggle to make a decision on a young man, this story kept me turning page after page. I was rooting for one particular young man, but eventually liked both men so much that I was confused. I had to keep turning pages to see how the story would clear up both Ellen’s and my confusion about which young man was right for her.

There was one place in the story where I was jolted out of the story for a chapter or two because Ellen was suddenly missing from a chapter or two. I was suddenly reading about a young man and another girl. Things soon became clear, when Ellen returned to the story and eventually met this young man.

All in all, I thought this story was very well written, it captured and held my attention, and I had to keep reading to see whom Ellen would spend her life with. Not only was it a decision as to who she would marry, but where the Lord wanted her to minister — foreign missions or missions in her own country.

I certainly hope Idella Borntrager Otto will be producing more books because I definitely look forward to reading more from her.

Flash Fiction Friday: “A Common Bond”

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alex-blajan-223424-unsplashPhoto by Alex Blăjan on Unsplash

“A Common Bond”

by Kelly F. Barr

Mia prepared to release the falcon she had nursed back to health. The falcon stepped onto the arm guard. “Take care of yourself and have a good life.” She held her breath as she watched the falcon rise, then circle back and descend toward her. She stood firm, not raising her arm, until the bird was too close to stop. She raised her arm and the falcon landed.

“Now listen. You’re completely healed. You need to go and not come back. Be free.” She released the bird once more and again held her breath. This time the falcon circled but did not descend, then it flew away. Mia watched until it was out of sight, tears slipping down her cheeks.

Dusty put a hand on her shoulder. “You have such a tender heart for all God’s creatures.”

Mia swiped at her tears and grinned. “Not all God’s creatures. Animals are easy. It’s people that are a challenge.”

“Does that mean you don’t have a tender heart for me?” Dusty raised an eyebrow.

The corners of Mia’s lips twitched. “Maybe.”

Dusty ran a hand through his blond curls. “I’ve worked with you for almost two years, watching you love and nurture so many animals then release them back to their natural environments. My interest in you has grown beyond mere physical attraction. Will you let me take you to dinner?”

She’d seen Dusty run his hand through those curls often. She now recognized it as a sign of nervousness in relation to her. She liked that she made him nervous. It showed vulnerability. She liked that there was a mutual vulnerability between them. Dusty had become a valuable asset to her wildlife preserve and she liked working with him. Would it ruin their working relationship if things became personal? What if they tried dating and it didn’t work? It could very well end their working relationship. She definitely found him attractive with his dark brown eyes and those golden locks, and he was polite and intelligent.

She shrugged. “I suppose one dinner wouldn’t hurt.”

Dusty’s lower jaw hung open.

“Better be careful. Something might fly in there.” She winked at him.

He closed his mouth, then said, “Oh right. Wait, did you just agree to have dinner with me?”

She nodded as a smile slid over her lips.

“When?”

“Well today’s Friday. How about tonight?”

“Tonight, yeah, that’d be great. After work, I’ll go home and come back for you around, say 6:30?” He ran a hand through those curls again, something Mia had thought about doing more than once.

“See ya then.” She smiled and started to walk away.

“Wait, you mean…” He looked at his watch, and Mia laughed out loud when he shouted, “It’s quitting time! I’ll see you in an hour and a half.”

Mia laughed again as he dashed to his pickup truck.

Dusty took her to the nicest steak house in town. They were taken to a booth in a back corner. After they placed their orders, Dusty looked at her across the table. He leaned back in his seat, his arms on the table. “Thank you for agreeing to have dinner with me. I’ve dreamt of this moment for months.”

“And what is it you want out of a relationship?”

“Wow, you don’t beat around the bush, do you?” He ran his hand through his hair. “I want to get to know you better, on a personal level. I want to see if we can become more than coworkers. What about you?”

“I think those are the right places to start. At first I wasn’t sure it was a good idea to go out with you. If things don’t work out, it could ruin our working relationship.” She studied him.

“Yeah, I know.”

Their food came. Mia bowed her head. Dusty reached over to clasp her hands. She raised her eyes to his.

“I’d like to pray, if that’s all right.”

She nodded.

Dusty prayed for their food, for their time together, and for wisdom and guidance from the Lord.

During dinner, they talked of their childhoods and they shared thoughts on what makes a good relationship.

After dinner, as they drove, Dusty looked over at Mia. “It’s a beautiful night. Would you like to go to the lake?”

Mia nodded.

They walked by the lake. Dusty reached to take her hand, and she liked how her hand fit into his. As they stood looking at the reflection of the moon on the water, Mia leaned into Dusty and tilted her head against his shoulder. Dusty put his arm around her shoulder. They were a perfect fit, and at that moment Mia knew she belonged in Dusty’s arms. Their mutual love of animals had already bonded them together. It could only grow stronger.

Tea and Poetry Tuesday

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Today’s Tea Tidbit:

“The cup of tea on arrival at a country house is a thing which, as a rule, I particularly enjoy. I like the crackling logs, the shaded lights, the scent of buttered toast, the general atmosphere of leisured coziness.”

P. G. Wodehouse, The Code of the Woosters

 

A Patch of Old Snow

by Robert Frost

There’s a patch of old snow in a corner
That I should have guessed
Was a blow-away paper the rain
Had brought to rest.

It is speckled with grime as if
Small print overspread it,
The news of a day I’ve forgotten–
If I ever read it.

Small Church Essentials by Karl Vaters

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Small Church Essentials: Field-Tested Principles for Leading a Healthy Congregation of Under 250 by Karl Vaters is written in a conversational manner. I found it interesting, intelligent, and engaging.

Our family attended a small church for eleven years, and we are currently attending another small church. Karl Vaters makes some wonderful suggestions — suggestions that make sense — that may have helped our previous small church survive (No, it hasn’t completely died, but it had seriously shrunk by the time we left several months ago).

Karl Vaters is the pastor of a small church, and has been for 25 years (and counting). He explains why not every church can be a “big” church, but that’s not a bad thing. He also explains and offers suggestions for helping a small church to be a healthy church. He does an excellent job of explaining how small churches are different from big churches, which is why it doesn’t really work to run a small church the same way big churches are run. He does all of this without saying anything negative about or putting down big churches. His desire, for this book, is to help the pastors of small churches to see how their small church can be a healthy church, and how they don’t have to feel incompetent or like a failure because they aren’t making their small church into a big church.

Do you know there are more small churches than there are big churches? It’s just that the big churches are the hot topics in our current society. However, not everyone wants to be part of a big church either, which is another reason that pastors in small churches should not feel badly about not being big. Pastors need to focus on the health of their church, not the size of their church. A healthy church will naturally grow, but it may never grow to “big church” status, and that’s okay.

I am not a pastor, but I am part of a church of under 250 people, and Karl Vaters’ suggestions for creating a healthy small church make sense and are biblical. He uses several examples of Jesus ministering. Yes, you may think, “but Jesus ministered to huge crowds”, and yes, he did, but his main focus was on small groups like his twelve disciples.

If you’re a pastor of a small church who feels frustrated, stressed, and like you’re failing, or if you’re a pastor of a small church who just wants to get an idea as to how healthy your church is, I encourage you to read this book. I also encourage those of you who are part of a small church body to read this book, because it’s not the pastor’s job alone to keep the church healthy, and you may find some ways you can serve your church and your pastor by reading this book.

Flash Fiction Friday: “Answered Prayers”

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a-l-l-e-f-v-i-n-i-c-i-u-s-298018-unsplash (1)Photo by A L L E F . V I N I C I U S Δ on Unsplash

 

Christy stood, back pressed against the wall, hoping no one would notice her, just like during the slow dances back in high school—a long time ago—where she always filled the role of wallflower.

“Hello, my name is Roman. Would you be my dance partner?”

Christy looked up into emerald green eyes. A tall man, broad-shouldered with waves of chocolate brown hair spilling onto his collar, smiled at her.

He extended his hand toward Christy. She hesitated, then placed her hand in his. A jolt of electricity shot through her fingertips. Had he felt it too?

After a half-hour practicing three swing dances, Roman, his hand on the middle of Christy’s back, led her to the refreshment table. He poured two cups of punch and handed one to her.

Christy took a long swallow in an attempt to relieve the dryness gripping her throat. She focused on the cup in her hands.

“You did very well with the lessons. Try to relax and have fun.”

Her arms pimpled as his smooth voice rolled over her. She offered a small smile, still suspicious of his interest in her. You know you’d be really pretty if you’d just lose some weight. Words from her past still haunted her.

They finished their punch, and Roman’s green eyes bored into her brown ones. “You have me at a disadvantage.”

“What do you mean?” She chewed a corner of her lower lip.

“You know my name but still haven’t told me yours.” He leaned closer and whispered. “And if you continue to chew that lip, I may be tempted to taste your lips for myself.”

Christy’s lower jaw dropped.

Music began and Roman placed a hand on the middle of her back once again. He lowered his head and spoke softly in her ear. “Shall we dance?”

Her heart thumped in her chest. Did he find her attractive or was he only flirting? As they approached the dance floor, she looked up at him. “My name is Christy.”

He winked at her, and they began to dance.

With each turn around the floor, Christy relaxed a little more, and by the finalnumber, Roman had narrowed the space between them until they were mere inches apart.

When the music ended, Roman clasped her hand. “It’s still early. May I take you for coffee or ice cream?”

“The evening has been delightful, but I think I should go home.”

Disappointment evident in his eyes, he held fast to her hand. “May I see you tomorrow?”

“Why are you so interested in me?” She searched his eyes.

He ran his thumb over the back of her hand. “What is it that you think should dispel my interest?”

She lowered her head. “I … I’m fat.”

“Oh sweet Christy.” He placed a finger under her chin and pulled her head up to meet his gaze. “Don’t you know beauty is in the eye of the beholder? And I see before me a beautiful woman. You are a delightful armful, and I prefer your soft curves to those of less stature.”

In an instant, he drew her into his embrace and placed his lips on hers, offering a brief tender kiss.

As the kiss ended, Christy could barely breathe. Did she dare take a chance on falling in love with this man? Her head said “no”, but her heart reached for his.

His arms still encircling her, his face remained close to hers. “You sure I can’t take you for coffee or something?”

“I guess it would be okay, for a little while.” She took a step back trying to catch her breath.

They exited the dance studio and the humidity of the summer evening pressed in on them.

“Seems like a good evening for ice cream. What do you think?” Roman smiled down at her.

She nodded.

“There’s a local ice cream shop just down the street. Shall we walk?” He still held her hand in his.

“Okay.”

They talked as they ate their scoops. Roman made Christy laugh, and she found him quite charming. Her head sent warnings not to let her guard down, but she had prayed for God to send her a special man for so long. As they walked back to the dance studio parking lot, Christy whispered a silent prayer and took a deep breath. “Roman, do you believe in God?”

“Yes, I most certainly do.”

“You sound very sure of yourself.” They reached his car, and she looked up at him.

“That’s because God has answered many of my prayers over the years, and you, my dear Christy, are the most recent one.”

Christy’s heart leaped! “And I believe you are an answer to my long-time prayer. I didn’t know why I came to this swing dance tonight … until now.”

Tea and Poetry

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“My copper kettle whistles merrily
And signals that it is time for tea.
The fine china cups are filled with the brew,
There’s lemon and sugar and sweet cream, too.
But, best of all there’s friendship, between you and me.
As we lovingly share our afternoon tea.”

Marianna Arolin

 

The Storm of Misunderstanding
by Kelly F. Barr

Alone like an island in a stormy sea;
Your words, like waves, crash over me.
Strong winds howl in my ears
As your criticism prompts my tears.
Disapproving looks cause me to sway
As the waves drag the sand beneath my feet away.
Thunder rolls off your tongue.
At lightning’s flash, I turn and run
To my place of safety and of rest.
My island cave does not protest
When I light a fire to keep me warm;
But shelters me from your angry storm.

Have You Ever Tried to Write Flash Fiction?

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rawpixel-315198-unsplashFlaPhoto by rawpixel on Unsplash

I know I’ve talked about Flash Fiction here before, but today I want to speak to those of you who are writers. Have you ever tried to write Flash Fiction?

I used to think it would be quite difficult to write Flash Fiction in the genres that I write: my WIP is Historical Romance, however I also like to write Contemporary Romance. Most of the Flash Fiction I have seen and read has been Fantasy, Sci-Fi, or Speculative Fiction. However, if you’ve been reading my Flash Fiction Friday posts, you’ll see that it can be done with Contemporary Romance. The fact of the matter is Flash Fiction can be any genre.

I will reiterate the Flash Fiction guidelines once again. Depending on whose definition you read, Flash Fiction can be anywhere from less than 100 words to 1,500 words. However, many Flash Fiction writers prefer to write 300-500 words. Flash Fiction stories, as all stories, still require the story to have a beginning, middle, and end. (I have a friend who thinks every Flash Fiction story she reads could be turned into a full-length novel. And, she has a good point, if you like to read novel-length stories. I know that I could, most likely, turn all of my Flash Fiction stories into novellas or full-length novels, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to.) Flash Fiction serves a purpose. Just like the renewed popularity of Short Stories in today’s world, Flash Fiction is also very popular because many people don’t want to take the time to read novels anymore. However, that doesn’t mean they want to read an incomplete story that leaves them hanging at the end.

Therefore, that’s why it’s important that your Flash Fiction stories have a beginning, middle, and end; and the end has to feel complete and it needs to satisfy the reader. It needs to bring closure to the story and bring resolution to whatever conflict you created in the short piece.

So, if you’re a writer and you haven’t tried writing Flash Fiction, I challenge you to do so. Why? Because it will definitely help you improve your writing because it will challenge you to write a good complete story in few words. My first Flash Fiction Stories were between 1,000 and 1,500 words. The ones I am writing and posting on my Flash Fiction Friday posts right now are 790-800 words, and these sometimes take a while. I began one yesterday afternoon, thought I had it finished but wasn’t happy with the ending. I worked on it again last night and I’m still not happy with it, so I will work on it again today and maybe tomorrow and another day before I manage to create a 790-800 word complete story that I believe is the best I can do with the idea I have for this story.

Therefore, I will probably continue writing Flash Fiction of 790-800 words for a while yet, until it becomes easy for me to write a complete and satisfying story of that word count. Then, I’ll shoot for 500 words. (I did write one Flash Fiction story of 500 words that I recently entered in a contest that required no more than 500 words. My story made it through the first round of judging, but didn’t end up winning. So, I took it to a critique group, got some feedback on it, tweaked it based on comments from the group, and made it a better 500 word Flash Fiction story.)

Writing Flash Fiction helps you to write concisely and to not overuse certain words or be too wordy. Flash Fiction requires you to write less characters so that you can still create one or two characters that your readers will be able to relate to; characters that are believable and that your readers will want to root for.

If you decide to take the challenge and try your hand at Flash Fiction, let me know if you post a Flash Fiction story on your website. Post a link in the comments, and I’ll visit your site and read what you’ve come up with. It will be fun to encourage each other in improving our writing skills.

Flash Fiction Friday: “Lost in the Woods”

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Photo by Efren Barahona on Unsplash

“Lost in the Woods”

by Kelly F. Barr

Many people find peace in the silence of falling snow, but peace was far from Cassie’s mind as she stood in the woods shivering. She wrapped her arms around her middle and rubbed her upper arms, trying to stay warm; trying to focus on something other than the thought that she was lost.

She desperately tried to read the compass she carried. She’d never been good at woodland survival skills. Which way would get her back to civilization—back to her car? This is what anger did to her. Whenever she got extremely angry, she ran away from whomever or whatever she believed was causing her anger, but this time she’d driven to the woods on the edge of town, parked her car, and fled with nothing but a sweater and a compass she couldn’t read.

“Come on, Cassie. You ran into the woods heading north, so you need to head south to get back to your car.”

She looked up and halted. She blinked. A man in a tuxedo stood a couple yards from her. He couldn’t be real, could he?

“Hello.”

The saddest cerulean eyes Cassie had ever seen looked at her above a narrow nose, and a small attempt at a smile revealed deep dimples. He looked harmless—attractive and inviting—the words flitted through her mind.

She took a step backward, her eyes never leaving the stranger.

“Please, don’t go. I won’t hurt you. I’m not a madman or anything, although I suppose it is rather odd to find a man wearing a tuxedo in the middle of the woods in a snowstorm.”

Cassie nodded.

“I can explain … I think. You see…” He looked at his watch, then back at her. “I was supposed to get married two hours ago, but my bride never showed up. Seems she had a change of mind or heart or something. As I stood at the front of the church, everyone looking at me with pity in their eyes and the whispers of ‘poor man, what’s he going to do now’, I couldn’t breathe. The initial shock sent a stab of pain to my heart. After a few minutes, the pain became an unbearable ache. I had to run. I couldn’t stay with those pitying stares one more minute. So I ran back the aisle, out the church door, down the steps, across the parking lot. And I just kept running. I didn’t know where I was going, and I didn’t care. I just had to escape. When I finally stopped, I was standing right here where you found me. I don’t know where I am or how to get out of here. I’m not even sure I want to.” He hung his head.

Pain radiated from him and created an ache in Cassie’s heart. Her anger disappeared as she shared this man’s pain. She stepped up beside him and touched his arm. “I’m so sorry for what happened to you.”

When he raised his eyes to hers, they brimmed with tears.

“Can you find your way with a compass?” She held her compass out to him.

He reached to take it from her hand. “Are you lost too?”

She nodded.

“Then it would seem you were meant to find me. I was an Eagle Scout. I can certainly use this compass to get us out of these woods.” He smiled, took her hand, and began walking back in the direction Cassie had come from, but on more of a diagonal.

“I’m Cassie Reynolds, and my intense anger is what brought me into these woods today.”

He raised an eyebrow at her. “I’m Blake Johnson. Seems like intense emotions have taken their toll on both of us today.”

After walking for about an hour, Cassie breathed a sigh of relief when they stepped out of the woods, and she saw her red Honda CR-V waiting for her. She turned to face Blake, who still held her hand in his. “Can I give you a ride?”

After a long pause, Blake shrugged his shoulders. “I suppose so, but I’m not ready to go back to my apartment yet. I’m sure my parents and brother are either sitting there waiting for me or calling nonstop. I’m sure they’re worried about me, but I’m not ready to deal with that yet.”

“We could go get some coffee … if you want.”

He nodded and they climbed into her CR-V.

After two hours of light conversation punctuated by periods of uncomfortable silence and three cups of coffee, Cassie drove Blake to the nicest apartment complex in town.

His eyes met hers. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.”

After a brief pause, Blake slid from her car, and she drove away wondering if she’d ever see him again.