The Storyteller | Mary Vee

Julia Refiner, a kindred friend, writer, and one filled with spiritual wisdom says:   I Want to Be Conformed to Christ's Image I don't quite know where to begin.  One thing popped in my mind: I want to be conformed to Christ’s image. I’m certainly not there. I sin, I come to my knees and beg for His grace, He pours out His love and bids me stand up. All my journeys together match up to this one overriding goal: to hear well done good and faithful servant. Knowing that I don’t deserve anything, but so grateful for His mercy moment-by-moment helping me through my days. Sometimes these are tiring days. All of you know about that. Busyness takes over, but He calls me sit at his feet, like Mary, pouring my best out for Him. My best that is worth nothing, my efforts that are worth nothing. But Jesus delights in my songs, off-key, often with wrong words thrown in. The visceral heart cries when I’m desperate and can do nothing more than cry out a plea.  M

Puzzled by the title? I probably would be too, except I was here when... My son brought a huge bundle of paw paws from Grandpa's tree. Grandpa apparently likes the tree but had never harvested the fruit. My son decided we should taste the fruit. Photo courtesy We cut one open and found seeds, larger and thicker than watermelon seeds, and dotted throughout the fruit. The seeds, I'm told, should not be eaten. The fruit, had a creamy mushy texture like squished bananas. The taste was a mix between a mango, pear, and banana.  So, now...proud son wants Mom (that's the role I played in this story), to make Paw Paw jam. Uh, yea...not so much. I pictured banana jam and couldn't see it working.  He separated the fruit from the skin and seeds, put it in a bowl, and set it in the fridge. On his way out the door he said, "I have the paw paws all ready for you to make jam when you're ready, Mom." At this point, I was desperately racking my mind for a

When I was lost and floundering, a mere droplet in a pond of writers composing stories to impact the lives of readers, one person opened her smile, her arms, her spirit and welcomed me. She encouraged me to--well, do pretty much all I am doing today in writing. Mary, Sue Herringshaw, Casey Herringshaw You might be surprised at her youth. I guess that is one plus for me, always willing to learn from anyone, no matter their age, and enjoy their presence.  Her amazing plus, among a heap of others, was the willingness to be a kindred spirit to one who was older.  We were chatting about what defines us, which turned into this post written by my good friend, Casey Herringshaw. Defining You I’m a writer. Words make up my world into a brighter, cheerier place (though sometimes when my characters misbehave, it can become a darker, more dangerous existence. ;-) I have a list of words that describe me. Words that make up who I am to

Times have not changed. Not really. My high school counselor helped me after I waited over an hour, standing in a large crowd of students as organized as chaos allowed. The new school year had started that day. I went to my assigned homeroom with other classmates. It was a rather large school,1,000 in my class, almost 4000 in the whole school. Glitches happened in a school that big, I'm sure I didn't know the half of them.  My home room teacher handed out our schedules for the semester. These computer generated class assignments were designed to meet our career goals. I chose the college track.  The piece of paper handed to me had six class hours listed, the class I would take that hour, and the location. Mine said, study hall for all six classes. Odd, I thought. I specifically indicated I didn't want any study halls.  The homeroom teacher had no advice for me other than, "Go see your counselor."  The counselor serving students R-Z looked 

This weekend I am starting a new series.   You will read deep-hearted stories by people you've met here. Come back each weekend and be blessed. Leave a return word of encouragement for those who shared in the comment section. Periodically I will be giving books away to a commenter. But to me, the greater gift is the heartfelt words from my guests. Today, Sherrinda Ketchersid, a former Writer's Alley Cat tells how God nudged her to a second rung on Jacob's Ladder. The step is way more difficult than it looks. The Second Rung I’ve been calling myself a writer for about six years. It has been the most wonderful, frustrating, rewarding, exasperating thing I have ever done! I’ve loved meeting other writers online and have been planning to go to the big ACFW Conference with great anticipation. It’s what I love! Not long ago, God got a hold of me and we wrestled for quite awhile. You know when God is talking to you, even though sometimes you don’t want to h

I walked around a corner in my house to the doorway of a room and stood perplexed. I saw water through the window. The window faced a field that is being converted to a meadow of flowers and grasses. The water appeared to be a lake. Like you'd probably do, I walked closer to the window and saw it had been opened. The vertical angle led me to believe the lake was a reflection. Couldn't be. The window opening was angled so that only something to the left would reflect. Our garage was to the left. I grabbed my camera and snapped the photo for evidence despite the camera's protest against painting the very clear image of water I saw. Really! I wasn't imagining this!! Then the aha moment hit.  The lake's steely gray waves, which was down the hill and way to the right, reflected off the garage door window and bounced again off this room window where I stood. Awesome. There are moments when I can love science. And then I wondered what

Photo Courtesy Seems like meeting new authors has come to an end. The numbers have dwindled to only a couple of hundred, causing me to wonder if this is something you all are interested in.  I mean, I'm willing to do the leg work. Have for four+ years. I've search for new authors, representing all genres, meet them at conferences, etc. Get their info...and, well, and take care of the details. BUT Now, I'm thinking it seem like meeting new authors has come to an end because the numbers of readers have faded. The purposed for this particular weekend will be then to see where everyone is at. True, there are a gazillion blogs out there.  And time is a treasured commodity. So, in one word or more... Let's Talk. 1. Do you want to continue meeting new authors? Book giveaways are a given. 2. And the dreaded question (this is one I would have trouble answering at first myself), what would interest you enough to read about? Think about it. If you

Uzbekistan's flag and Ukraine's flag A radio news segment caught my attention last week. The story featured a man who shared his struggle. This was a total ah-hah, I get it, moment for me. T he man lived in Uzbekistan ( possibly Ukraine. To be honest, I heard this report while driving and could not take notes for you. I went back to the station's archive, even sent an email to the station to confirm which country but did not find or receive the answer. The point is, while the two countries are individual and important, the story could have easily happened in both.) The man said he struggled because for seventy years communism ruled his country. Now that his fellow countrymen were able to return to their own culture and restore what was a way of life years ago, they simply didn't know how...or what used to be. Recipes. Celebrations. Clothing styles. Traditions. Normalcy. You name it. All of this had been taken away from them for seventy years. That single