REMEMBER TO LOVE THY NEIGHBOR

One never realizes that others have a life until they are watched or scrutinized. Especially people you may not have much regard for. I came to this understanding and had to ask God for a little forgiveness at judging these people when I was making my periodic check of my daughters facebook page and was looking at pictures of a friend of hers that I didn't know she had as a facebook friend. Last I knew, they didn't get along and maybe, who knows, don't. The point is I looked at some of her pictures and saw her socializing with family and friends from school and church. No matter how weird we find someone or how we may not even care for them too deeply, they are still people with lives and others who care for them. Hopefully I won't forget this. That being said, it doesn't mean I have to like them, but I should still be nice and understand we are all different. This also means that they don't have to like me. But at least we shouldn't be judgmental and may I pray for a heart that is indifferent where I neither like or dislike because I really don't know them for who they are, but I love them in the way God meant for me to.

The query process, an author's perspective

How many times do I have to check my email? I wait with a nervous heart flutter for the next agent, knowing they will reject my manuscript because either my story isn't right for them or it isn't marketable. But they are wrong; of course I say this with an all knowing knowledge. The crazy thing is, I do know when I first started sending my work to them, I shouldn't have. And to the ones who were brave enough to ask for more and ended with a sorry, not for them rejection letter, I must admit they were right, in the beginning. But now after many revisions and many hours writing and rewriting, I believe it is exactly right for them and marketable. Yes, it is my opinion, but it is also my manuscript and I have much faith in it if they do not.

I have worried with anticipation over each sentence, exactly as I did with each of my four kids as they one by one tackled the art of walking. It is a personal process; in an odd way it is my new child, and I love every bit of it. So I patiently wait as I query about every agent out there, hoping that the one will finally say, "I love it."

So, what keeps me going when no one seems to want my story you ask? It is the faithful that have read it and love it. It is the ones who have been forewarned of its hopeful future and can't wait because they like the idea or the type of characters that are involved. But most importantly, it is because of my own love for these characters and their predicaments, their journey that twists and turns, and the final outcome when all is where it is supposed to be.

My summer garden

I am canning for the first time in my forty-one years. It is rather amazing, the older I get, the more the small things and sometimes older ways fascinate me. My garden is filled with sixteen tomato plants, two rows of okra, one row of zucchini, one row of squash, a row of peas, and five rows of corn. Out of those five rows of corn, I was disappointed to have only twelve stalks rise out of the ground. But all is not lost, I have had the thrill of a little girl at Christmas morn at each vegetable I pick. Right now, bags of frozen squash and zucchini sit in my big freezer and a towel laden with freshly washed green tomatoes, wait more patiently than I, to turn red; salsa and spaghetti sauce await their fate. Fall is my favorite time of year, but I must tell you true, summer has flown by like a weekend and I will miss my garden as it slowly withers. My hopes are turning to the single pumpkin plant that arose out of six spots, reseeded twice with three seeds per small pile of dirt. Now if that wasn't a disappointment too. But I smile as flowers bloom, foretelling the future of round orange, soon to be canned pumpkin or a jacko-lantern flashing a warm glow Halloween night. My garden is a happy place.