Yesterday I was strolling with one of my daughters and mentioned something I wanted to put on my blog. She giggled and said it always sounds weird to her when I talk about blogging. Yes, I admit that when I was her age, I was programming little games in BASIC on a Commodore 64 and there was no internet, blogs, or email loops. But I’ve kept up marginally well for an old mom – even if I can’t figure out how to answer my cell phone.

I can imagine how she’ll laugh when she sees this award. My down-under friend Rel (aka Jane) named me for a “Rockin’ Girl Blogger” award. The use of the word “Rockin” in the same sentence with me is another juxtaposition that will cause great hilarity among my children.

I want to bestow the award on a few friends, as well.

Rebecca at A Christian Worldview of Fiction – leading the way with consistently interesting discussions
Cheryl at Writing Remnants – a friend from grad school days, who is always funny and poignant
Kelli at On Life, Liberty, & the Pursuit of Publication – everything from deep to funny to thought-provoking

Of course that’s only a few of the rockin’ blogs I love to browse – so to all the friends I don’t list this time – you all deserve awards!

Sharon Hinck

Deb Raney (prolific and award winning CBA women’s fiction author) recently emailed to let me know that her husband Ken (an artist) has produced an online graphic novel, The Forever Quest.

Check it out!

Powerless

There are times when God reminds me how powerless I am.
Rather than making me feel weak and frightened, it can remind me to put my security in Him, not insubstantial things like my own prowess or cleverness.

Last week I got an object lesson in what it means to be powerless.

Friday night about 3:00 a.m. crashing and booming sounds woke me. Rain sheeted against the windows as if a giant were aiming a pressure hose at our house. Wind roared through the many trees in our neighborhood. Lightning flickered off-rhythm with the sharp cracks of thunder. Our power went out, and we peered through the rain-covered windows to see huge branches scattered through the yard.

Powerless, we eventually went back to sleep, waiting for the morning to reveal what the storm had left behind.

The view from our front door was heartbreaking. Three huge pine trees had snapped in half, while some limbs had been picked up by the storm and carried across the street into our yard. Our maple had dropped some significant limbs, too.

But the backyard was worse. Several huge, thick limbs from our neighbor’s tree had broken and fallen over the fence into our yard, creating a sculpture that looked like a huge tree standing on its head. It crushed the corner of our garden fence, and blocked our access into the garden. No damage to our house, except that the fallen limbs are tangled in powerlines.

At first the power company was estimating power would be restored by Monday night. Then Tuesday. Today we’ve been told they are “hoping” to have “a majority” of power restored to homes by Thursday night. Yep. An entire week of no power.

Ninety degrees and humid with no air conditioning and not even a fan. No toaster. No microwave. No computer.

I’m at the library with my laptop – taking an opportunity to check on urgent emails – but unable to access my email addresses (I purposely don’t keep anything on my laptop so I won’t be distracting when working on a manuscript with my laptop).

My friend Camy is visiting, and we’ve been stamping (while the sun is up), talking shop, going for walks, and eating lots of peanutbutter sandwiches. It’s amazing how many things I start to do–then remember I can’t because we don’t have power.

But even though it’s inconvenient, being powerless has been good for my soul. A forced vacation. (I can’t get to my manuscript on my main computer.) An exercise in adapting, in listening to whatever lessons God has for me in this experience. A chance to break some addictions (no watching NetFlix movies, no radio in the background).

We borrowed a generator, but even that is a lesson. Which few things will we plug in? We are using it to keep our fridge running, so we won’t lose our food, and we ran a line to our neighbor’s for their fridge.

Last night another storm moved through our area. We sat in the backyard and watched the lightshow as the storm approached. Striations of fierce light cut through the clouds. Some softer pulses of light glowed from behind the edges, silhouetting the curves of clouds for a second at a time.

I swatted at mosquitos, breathed the crackling air, and thought about how big God is. He created the world. Storms don’t alarm Him. The Psalms talk about Him riding on the wind…about the earth being His footstool. My smallness was a comfort to me. There is One who is big, and holy, and loving who is above and in it all. One who is in control. I try to control so many things in my life – even the people around me. This week, as I wait for power to return to our house, I’m trying to embrace being…

…powerless.

Sharon Hinck

I’m creating some cute little gift packets with a hand-stamped image of a mug, a Restorer postcard, and a pocket held together with brads. In the pocket I plan to put a clove-flavored tea and a cinnamon stick. On the tea mug I stamped the word “Clavo.” If you’ve read The Restorer, you know that Susan was introduced to this drink in her visit to an alternate world.

As I was searching for options of clove-flavored tea, I found a brand that is made in Bolivia. Imagine my surprise when I saw that in Bolivia, this tea is called—you guessed it—clavo! Maybe someone from Bolivia has gone through a portal to visit Lyric?