Author Archive
FIRST Presents McKenzie by Penny Zeller
September 1st, 2010 | 
Author: Rachel’s Review:
I have to admit McKenzie Worthington wasn’t on my list of admirable people at first. She was a rich, spoiled socialite who was used to being served and getting her own way. Whereas Zach Sawyer was the exact opposite; humble, kind and steadfast. A very unlikely pair… but McKenzie didn’t have ‘happily ever after’ on her mind when she married Zach. She was determined to find her sister even if it meant hurting Zach and his son.
After a while I considered McKenzie’s situation and couldn’t help admiring her. McKenzie couldn’t help the privileged life she was born into. She moved to the Wild West, married someone she barely knew, and had to make do with practically nothing… all for her sister’s sake. That took a lot of courage and gumption. And through Zach’s patience and prayers she blossomed into an independent and loving mother and wife.
Zach’s adorable son’s antics kept me laughing; I cried along with Zach when McKenzie broke his heart and rejoiced with both Zach and McKenzie as they mended hearts and she made his wishes of a God-centered and loving home come true.
It is time for a FIRST Wild Card Tour book review! If you wish to join the FIRST blog alliance, just click the button. We are a group of reviewers who tour Christian books. A Wild Card post includes a brief bio of the author and a full chapter from each book toured. The reason it is called a FIRST Wild Card Tour is that you never know if the book will be fiction, non~fiction, for young, or for old…or for somewhere in between! Enjoy your free peek into the book!
You never know when I might play a wild card on you!
and the book:
McKenzie (Montana Skies series #1)
Whitaker House (September 1, 2010)
***Special thanks to Cathy Hickling of Whitaker House for sending me a review copy.***
Penny Zeller is the author of four books and numerous magazine articles in national and regional publications. She is an active volunteer in her community, serving as a women’s Bible study small-group leader and co-organizing a woman’s prayer group. Her passion is to use the gift of the written word that God has given her to glorify Him and to benefit His kingdom. When she’s not writing, Penny enjoys spending time with her family and camping, hiking, canoeing, and volleyball. She and her husband Lon reside in Wyoming with their two children.
Visit the author’s website.
Product Details:
List Price: $6.99
Paperback: 320 pages
Publisher: Whitaker House (September 1, 2010)
Language: English
ISBN-10: 1603742166
ISBN-13: 978-1603742160
AND NOW…THE FIRST CHAPTER:
September 18, 1881
Boston, Massachusetts
Clutching the envelope that had just been delivered to her home, McKenzie Worthington walked into the parlor and closed the doors behind her. Sitting down, she ran her finger over the familiar, hasty penmanship on the outside of the envelope. There was no return address, but McKenzie already knew who had sent the letter. Bracing herself for the words on the pages within, she carefully opened the seal and unfolded the tattered, soiled piece of stationery.
My dearest sister McKenzie,
I write this letter with a heavy heart and a fearful spirit. I am convinced that Darius is not the man I thought him to be when I married him. He drinks almost continually, and when there is no more money to purchase his whiskey, he places the blame on me. He used all the money in my trousseau long ago, and we are constantly on the run to avoid the law. His threats are many if I dare turn him in to the local sheriff.
We are without food much of the time, but Darius always finds funds for his alcohol. All the money sent to me in the past, he has found a way to spend. I wish more than anything that I could find a way to leave this place and return home. However, Darius has threatened my life if I leave and has arranged for several of his friends at the saloon to keep an eye on me. One of his friends, Bulldog, lives nearby and watches my every move. He scares me to death, McKenzie.
Please, help me get away from Darius. He is such a mean man with a horrid temper. I fear for my life, at times. If Darius knew I was writing to you, I know he would kill me. I ask again that you please not tell Mother and Father the seriousness of my situation, since they will surely say that I deserve it for running away with Darius. But please come, and come quickly.
With much love,
Kaydie
When she had finished reading the letter, McKenzie clutched it to her chest. She could feel a tear threatening to fall, and she diverted her attention to the mantel above the fireplace. A large, three-foot-square oil painting hung proudly in the same place it had for the past ten years. McKenzie stared at the three people in the portrait and suddenly yearned for things to be as they had been then. Time had passed so quickly; the years of her childhood seemed barely a whisper in the conversation of life.
On the left-hand side of the painting, McKenzie’s younger sister, Kaydie, posed in her pink satin gown. Her long, blonde hair flowed over her shoulders, and her brown eyes seemed to hold a sparkle that McKenzie knew was long gone due to Kaydie’s present circumstances.
Sitting on a higher stool in the middle, McKenzie’s older sister, Peyton, emphasized her role as the eldest and most favored Worthington daughter. Beneath her dark, rolling locks, her large, green eyes held the look of arrogance and superiority that she continually flaunted over her less-preferred sisters.
On the right-hand side, her head tilted toward Kaydie’s, sat McKenzie, then fourteen years old. Her long, strawberry blonde hair was pinned up at the sides, and she wore her favorite turquoise gown. The smirk on McKenzie’s face had caused her mother great disturbance. “Proper ladies never smile in a portrait. Your father will be so disappointed,” her mother had scolded her. “We shall have to insist the painting be redone.”
The artist had been paid a reduced fee for failing to change McKenzie’s smile to a look of solemnity and had never been asked to paint any further portraits for the Worthington family. So, the portrait of Arthur and Florence Worthington’s daughters had never been repainted.
Once the servants had hung it above the mantel, there it had remained, serving as a memory in different ways to the different members of the Worthington household. To Peyton, it was a reminder that she was the eldest and the most obedient. To McKenzie and Kaydie, it was a reminder of enjoyable days past, when they would secretly embark on adventures that were considered unbecoming for young women from families of prestige and wealth. To McKenzie’s mother, the portrait was a disgrace because of McKenzie’s smirk, and to her father, it was the observance of a costly tradition that had been carried on from generation to generation.
McKenzie scanned the portrait again, her focus stopping on Kaydie’s face. Hang on, my dear Kaydie. I promise I will figure out a way to save you from Darius. Please don’t give up hope, she silently begged her sister. I don’t know how I will do it or when, only that I will. This much I promise you.
McKenzie sat for a moment longer in the quietness of the parlor. She recalled her parents’ disturbance when their youngest daughter had eloped with Darius Kraemer and moved West with him.
McKenzie’s mother had covered her mouth with her left hand and fanned herself with her right, clearly indicating her dismay at the situation. “I am so distraught by Kaydie’s marriage that I can barely manage day-to-day living,” she’d lamented.
“She never should have married a man so far beneath her. Now we’ll likely never hear from her again,” Peyton had said, sipping her tea. “Of course, Kaydie was always the one who thought she could do whatever she pleased and face the consequences later.” Peyton’s voice had done little to hide her smugness. “I would never do such a thing. Not only was it an unwise decision to marry someone without a pedigree and move far from civilization, but it has brought nothing but shame to the Worthington family. I can’t begin to count the number of times I’ve had to make up stories to explain her absence in order to preserve our family’s impeccable reputation.”
McKenzie had glared at her older sister. “Now, Peyton, not everyone can marry such a fine gentleman as Maxwell Adams,” she’d said with more than a hint of sarcasm, thinking of how grateful she was that she herself hadn’t married Maxwell, or anyone like him. While he was polite and treated Peyton well, he was also stuffy and prudish, and he seemed incapable of doing anything for himself. It had been Peyton who had secured his position at their father’s law office. Maxwell hadn’t even been able to apply for the job himself. In McKenzie’s opinion, Maxwell was a helpless, spineless, sorry excuse for a man.
“At least I am married,” Peyton had said, glaring at her sister, “unlike some people I know.” Peyton never missed an opportunity to rub in the fact that McKenzie, as an unmarried woman, was an oddity in a society that held marriage as the highest priority for women—marriage to a man from a wealthy family and with a thriving career, of course. The fact that Peyton had been successful on both accounts gave her an edge over a sister who in most other respects won the competition war.
“Now, girls, please. This bickering between the two of you must stop,” their mother had said, wringing her hands.
“You’re right, Mother. It is a shame that McKenzie doesn’t conduct herself in a manner more in line with our upbringing,” Peyton had said, smiling smugly at her mother.
McKenzie shook her head now and pictured her mother. With the exception of her long, gray-blonde hair and the age difference, she and Peyton could be twins. Her mother’s large, emerald eyes made her look as though she were in a constant state of surprise. Her pert, upturned nose further conveyed the air about her that she knew she was from one of the wealthier families in the Boston area, both by birth and by marriage.
“Marry a man of wealth, have children, attend social gatherings, and busy yourself with acceptable volunteer work” were the maxims McKenzie’s mother sought to instill in her daughters. Kaydie had managed to fulfill one of those wishes—she’d married. Yet, it had been in defiance of her parents’ desire, for Darius was hardly wealthy. Yes, they had met while doing volunteer work, but, based on what McKenzie knew now, it had probably been a ruse.
The chiming of the tall, mahogany clock in the corner brought McKenzie back to the present, and she again focused her attention on Kaydie’s predicament. She knew that mailing money to Kaydie to secure her fare to Boston would be impossible, as she had no access to any funds; the money in her dowry would be passed to her husband alone.
Poor Kaydie had thought her normally calm and complacent life would be so full of adventure when she’d agreed to marry the wayward Darius. He’d captured her heart and taken her from security and wealth to the dangerous, uncivilized Wild West. Granted, he was an attractive man with allure brimming in his erratic personality. He’d even said all the things Kaydie had longed to hear, making the men of Boston pale in comparison. Only after it was too late had Kaydie discovered that Darius made his living by swindling and robbing. When things didn’t go according to plan, he took out his fury, both verbal and physical, on Kaydie, essentially holding her hostage in her own marriage.
Now, Kaydie was suffering because she’d fallen in love with what had turned out to be a mere façade. Her dowry, which Darius had been after from the beginning, had been spent while Kaydie had been blinded by the love she’d thought she had found.
McKenzie had always been closest to Kaydie and knew that there must be a way to help her. Besides, she knew Kaydie would do the same if the situation were reversed. She reached up to twirl one of her tendrils between her finger and her thumb, as she habitually did when she was in deep thought. Not one to allow discouragement to defeat her, McKenzie knew she had to be the one to concoct a plan to rescue her sister. Kaydie’s life depended on it. No one else knew of the four letters Kaydie had mailed intermittently to McKenzie. McKenzie had been sworn to secrecy regarding Kaydie’s predicament, and, besides, her parents would no doubt have no shortage of words regarding their judgment of their youngest daughter’s poor choice. No one else knew the way her life had taken a turn for the worse. No one else knew of Kaydie’s desperation. McKenzie was the only one who knew and the only one who could help. But how would she afford the trip west? And, once she got there, where would she stay? Who would protect her while she searched potentially dangerous towns for her sister?
Just then, it came to her—an idea so crazy, she thought that it just might work.
Posted in 
FIRST Presents The Berenstain Bears and the Gift of Courage by Jan & Mike Berenstain
I liked this Berenstain Bear book even more then the previous one. This has the Biblical account of David and Goliath as a narrative to teach a lesson the Sister Bear about standing up for what’s right. “Small, but oh my” what the line that made me smile. These are books that your children will enjoy again and again.
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It is time for a FIRST Wild Card Tour book review! If you wish to join the FIRST blog alliance, just click the button. We are a group of reviewers who tour Christian books. A Wild Card post includes a brief bio of the author and a full chapter from each book toured. The reason it is called a FIRST Wild Card Tour is that you never know if the book will be fiction, non~fiction, for young, or for old…or for somewhere in between! Enjoy your free peek into the book!
You never know when I might play a wild card on you!
and the book:
The Berenstain Bears and the Gift of Courage
Zonderkidz (April 9, 2010)
***Special thanks to Krista Ocier of Zondervan for sending me a review copy.***
Stan and Jan Berenstain introduced the first Berenstain Bear books in 1962. 
Mike Berenstain grew up watching his parents work together to write about and draw these lovable bears. Eventually he started drawing and writing about them too. Mike is married to Andrea, and they have three children. They live in Pennsylvania, in an area that looks a lot like Bear Country.
Visit the authors’ website.
Product Details:
List Price: $3.99
Reading level: Ages 4-8
Paperback: 32 pages
Publisher: Zonderkidz (April 9, 2010)
Language: English
ISBN-10: 0310712564
ISBN-13: 978-0310712565
PRESS THE BROWSE BUTTON TO VIEW THE FIRST CHAPTER:
FIRST Presents The Berenstain Bears & a Job Well Done by Jan & Mike Berenstain
I remember the Berenstain Bear book from when I went to school. T hey’ve been around a long time. And they’ve gotten no less popular. I have many tattered copies in my classroom, and honestly sometimes I roll my eyes when another Berenstain Bear book is stuck towards me during read aloud. You wouldn’t believe me if I told you I have some memorized!! But my kids love them.
So I didn’t think twice about reviewing this one and one to follow in a few days. They are still wonderful read aloud books with timely values. These two are more Bible-oriented, with a verse in the beginning, where as the ones in my classroom have a fun rhyme that coincides with the story. Also, in this one Brother and Sister have a sister named Honey…so I guess time has passed since I was a girl!
There is one thing I do not like about the BB books, and that is how Papa takes the back seat with their is an issue on hand. Or rather, if he goes about correcting Sister and Brother, Mama often finds him at fault too. I don’t think that is positive role model material. Father’s should be leaders and I would like that protrayed in these books. Perhaps the kids don’t notice the significance of it, but that is my one quibble about the BB books.
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It is time for a FIRST Wild Card Tour book review! If you wish to join the FIRST blog alliance, just click the button. We are a group of reviewers who tour Christian books. A Wild Card post includes a brief bio of the author and a full chapter from each book toured. The reason it is called a FIRST Wild Card Tour is that you never know if the book will be fiction, non~fiction, for young, or for old…or for somewhere in between! Enjoy your free peek into the book!
You never know when I might play a wild card on you!
and the book:
The Berenstain Bears and A Job Well Done
Zonderkidz (April 9, 2010)
***Special thanks to Krista Ocier of Zondervan for sending me a review copy.***
Stan and Jan Berenstain introduced the first Berenstain Bear books in 1962. Mike Berenstain grew up watching his parents work together to write about and draw these lovable bears. Eventually he started drawing and writing about them too. Mike is married to Andrea, and they have three children. They live in Pennsylvania, in an area that looks a lot like Bear Country.
Visit the authors’ website.
Product Details:
List Price: $3.99
Reading level: Ages 4-8
Paperback: 32 pages
Publisher: Zonderkidz (April 9, 2010)
Language: English
ISBN-10: 0310712548
ISBN-13: 978-0310712541
AND NOW…THE FIRST CHAPTER:
Encounters*
Her confidence was shattered today. Utterly. Dreams crushed with a single harsh sentence. Her self-esteem vanished after that much-anticipated word of praise fell seedless to the ground with thoughtless criticism.
In broad daylight he wraps his arms around her and she leans into his touch. His work stained hands leave an imprint on her light colored calico dress. She doesn’t care. She is the most loved woman in the world.
The old man comes home to a lonely, empty house. Love burned him in his youth. Old Readers Digest books keep him company on long winter evenings. Straining, waiting for the rhythmic sound of the door, he hopes that maybe tonight one of his many nieces and nephews will grace him with a visit.
His young son sees him from the distance and runs towards him. Childlike words resounding in daddy’s ears make the problems he just left behind lessen. The miracle of this little child continues to change his life everyday. He looks up and in the distance the outline of a woman greets him. A weary heart lifts and he knows God is in his heaven and all is well with the world…
He is known in the colony as a dreamer. Able to fix everything broken. Guiding you thru his chaotic shop you will see projects new and old, countless relics from failed ideas. To you it seems nothing and nonsense, but it makes up the fabric of his being. Needless to say, you will shake your head in wonder. I once eavesdropped on a conversation between his wife and another woman. In kind words she was asked how she can stand his mess, his over-the-up dreams, and his endless chatter. The words still ring in my ears. “I respect him, I love him, and I don’t try to change him.”
I look down the road as he slowly walks towards home. A magnificent rainbow casts its spell on the rain-soaked earth around us. A promising sign perhaps? He needs it. As he comes closer I see that he is troubled, burdened down with a situation out of his hands and beyond his control. I know the reason, but I would never ask him. I simply walk beside him and point out the beauty around us. He will open up when he is ready. Maybe tomorrow, when the songs he sings every morning wake me to a new day.
She can bring out the worst in me, and the best. The kids taunt her with her weakness to argue her way out of any situation. It’s the most infuriating habit. Coming to me with tears in her eyes she tells me how they bear down on her weakness. She cries because she knows it’s true. I sit her down beside me and probe her to “prove them wrong. Show them that you can walk away without saying a word.” The light in her eyes returns when I tell her I believe in her.
*Encounters. Situations I stumble upon thru the years…
FIRST Presents With Hearts and Hymns and Voices by Pam Rhodes
It is time for a FIRST Wild Card Tour book review! If you wish to join the FIRST blog alliance, just click the button. We are a group of reviewers who tour Christian books. A Wild Card post includes a brief bio of the author and a full chapter from each book toured. The reason it is called a FIRST Wild Card Tour is that you never know if the book will be fiction, non~fiction, for young, or for old…or for somewhere in between! Enjoy your free peek into the book!
You never know when I might play a wild card on you!
and the book:
With Hearts and Hymns and Voices
Monarch Books (May 24, 2010)
***Special thanks to Cat Hoort, Trade Marketing Manager for Kregel Publications, for sending me a review copy.***
Pam Rhodes has presented Songs of Praise—one of the world’s leading religious television programs—since 1987. Prior to that she had been a journalist and TV news reporter.
Visit the author’s website.
Product Details:
List Price: $14.99
Paperback: 352 pages
Publisher: Monarch Books (May 24, 2010)
Language: English
ISBN-10: 1854249754
ISBN-13: 978-1854249753
AND NOW…THE FIRST CHAPTER:
When the phone rang, she almost missed it. She was down in the cellar, digging out crepe paper supplies for the Sunday School youngsters, and although she heard it ring, Helen ignored it. Clive was in—let him get it.
By the time she realized he was ignoring it too, and she’d climbed over the cat basket and a line of wellington boots to clamber up the stairs, Helen was breathless as she grabbed the phone.
‘Hello, St. Michael’s Vicarage, I’m sorry!’
‘I’m not,’ said a woman’s voice, with a slightly musical lilt to it. Was it Scottish? ‘St. Michael’s Vicarage is what I’m after. Is the vicar there?’
‘Well, he should be,’ said Helen, craning her neck to peer into Clive’s study, ‘but apparently not. What time is it? He’s got a funeral at ten-thirty this morning—he’s probably gone over to the church. Can I help? I’m his wife.’
‘I’m sure you can. I’d like to fix a time to come and chat with him. I’m going to be down your way on Wednesday afternoon—I just wondered if he’s got any time free then?’
Definitely Scottish, Helen thought.
‘Well, I don’t know of anything booked for that afternoon, but that doesn’t mean a thing. I’ll get him to ring you back, if you like. Can I tell him who called?’
Helen tucked the receiver under her chin as she reached for the pen, attached with tape and string to the phone, and searched for a corner of paper that wasn’t already written on.
‘My name is Jan Harding. I’m the Producer of the BBC. I want to look into the possibility of doing a Songs of Praise from Sandford.’
Helen’s pen came to a halt in mid-air.
‘Can I leave my number, and perhaps your husband—it’s the Reverand Clive Linton, isn’t it?’
‘That’s right.’
‘Do you think he could ring me later today? I’d like to get things moving.’
Helen seized the pen again, and scribbled down the number. ‘I’ll pass the message on. He’ll probably get back to you in an hour or so. Bye.’
Helen replaced the receiver, and stared at the phone. What an extraordinary call! Songs of Praise, here? Sleepy little Sandford. Population eight hundred, and shrinking? Sandford, on a road that probably went somewhere once, but no one could quite remember why. This was a backwater, a place seldom found except by accident—and for most of the locals, except perhaps the ones who wouldn’t mind a bit more B & B business, that was just fine.
Helen chuckled. Wait till Bunty heard! Think how she’d set up four committees just to organize the summer fete! Something like this would keep her happily harassed and indispensable for weeks!
That reminded her—the Parish Magazine. Bunty had already rung twice, first to remind, and then to demand, that Clive get his intro over to her by yesterday at the latest. This morning, he’d promised he would closet himself in the study first thing, and get it done.
What was the time? Helen glanced at her watch. Five to ten. Wherever was he?
Dear Clive—so well-meaning, so willing to offer, so often to disappoint. For a man whose life was structured by services and meetings, time seemed to have surprisingly little relevance. He just forgot. As his thoughts took him on to heady spiritual heights, the worldly business of getting on with the day simply faded from his mind. He never meant to let anyone down, or cause confusion. He hadn’t a hurtful bone in his body. He simply forgot. And what he forgot, Helen—good old reliable Helen—always remembered, and organized around him.
Helen reached for her coat, and glanced at her reflection in the hallstand mirror. Her cheeks were flushed. Simmering frustration always left her that way, and nowadays, it seemed to hear that frustration was all she ever felt where Clive was concerned. What an old grouch she was becoming! She gave herself a stern look in the mirror, grabbed the funeral service sheets Clive had probably meant to take with him, and dropped the key, as usual, into the black flowerpot before pulling the front door shut.
Had he been forgetful when she’d first met him, she wondered, as she walked toward the church? He probably was, but it hadn’t mattered then. At twenty-four, in his last year of a theology degree, Clive’s search for truth, and his certainty of answers in the Christian faith, made him a compelling, mesmerizing companion. She admired his clarity of thought, his passion, his vision. She found herself watching him, asking about him, wishing she knew him better. And even before he ever really noticed her among the gaggle of students who often hung around together, she was probably already a little in love with him.
It had been the Christian Fellowship that finally brought them together. He suggested they invite along a well-known evangelical minister to one of their meetings. She volunteered to write the letter, and do the publicity. He had chaired that meeting, and introduced the speaker. She had arranged the tickets, the chairs, and given the vote of thanks for the floor. A week later, he received a card thanking him for organizing such a stimulating and thoroughly enjoyable evening. She was rewarded by the warm glow of friendship in Clive’s eyes, a warmth that over the months, steadily grew into love.
‘Oh, Mrs. Linton!’
Helen’s thoughts were jolted back, as she saw the comfortable, coated frame of Mrs. Hadlow waiting at the church door.
‘Oh, Mrs. Linton. I am glad to see you, dear. I didn’t bring my key, you see, because the vicar said he’d be here. Just thought I ought to spruce things up a bit, well, for poor John, of course. So sad. Never really knew him well, but he seemed nice. Lonely, I think, all by himself, since Maisie died. His heart must have been broken. I told George, I thought it must have been broken, he missed her so much. Poor John. It’s a real shock. We’ll miss him.’
Helen smiled to herself, as she turned the key in the lock. ‘It’s kind of you to both, Mrs. Hadlow. I’ll just come and switch the lights on, and light that fire in the vestry. I’m sure Clive will be over in a while.’
‘I’ve brought my own tin of polish with me,’ said Mrs. Hadlow as she eased herself through the door. ‘I never really think you get a proper shine from a spray. It’d doesn’t smell right. I popped up to take a look in John’s garden this morning, to see if his daffs were out. His always seemed to be the first, and I thought he might like his own flowers in church this morning. Too early, though—but he did love his garden! What ever’s going to happen to that garden now? Did he and Maisie have any family, do you know? My Rosemary, she did breakfast at The Bull this morning—well, it’s Thursday, so she always does—she said there’s a couple staying there, come for the funeral today. Do you think they’re relatives? Poor man, kept himself to himself. I never really knew him well.’
Helen headed back towards the door.
‘Oh, leave the door on the jar, would you, dear? Mrs. Murray said she’d pop over. Did you hear her leg’s bad again? Those pills really aren’t working. I keep telling her she ought to go back and ask, but you know how she hates making a fuss. Anyway, she’ll want to come and pay her respects. We all do, poor man.’ And as Mrs. Hadlow began a cheerful, tuneless hum, Helen slipped away.
So, Clive wasn’t at the church. She headed for the next most logical place…
What started out a hobby with the return of a phenomenal trip to Africa has turned into a huge responsibility and somewhat of a chore for me. I’ve been blogging for well over two years. Back then it was a thrilling escape into an online world. But in this life nothing stays simple for long, with each new journey we embark on there are risks, consequences and sometimes unwilling bouts of honestly and truths you must expose about yourself.
Especially so in my case.
Because of the door I opened into my Hutterite lifestyle, I’ve gotten so much feedback from ppl in all walks of life. If I omitted every Hutterite reading my blog, I’d still have a healthy readership of outsiders who find our way of life fascinating. Which brings me to a letter I recently received from a fellow Hutterite reader. I had to alter/edit the letter a bit for privacy. This is just part of the letter, I might address other portions of it in the future. Knowing me, you can never be sure!
“Lisa, I know that even you as a blogger are limited as to which subjects you may or may not address. I know that your colony has had its share of problems. I don’t know what they are. But on your blog you blog only about good things; I’m not saying you shouldn’t. But it seems that you have a perfectly well functioning society, and yet you don’t. So I wonder then, why don’t you open up a bit and talk about the reality of society, as a colony and as a Hutterite.”
I must admit the rebuke stung, even irked me. I also thought it disingenuous. But your thoughts may have drifted along those lines as well. After I calmed myself, I acknowledged the question to be a fair one. Do you, as a returning reader, feel I blog only about the pleasant things in my life? Am I trying to suggest that in my colony there are no struggles and trials? Let’s face it folks, where there are ppl there are problems. There will be clashes of opinion and personality. That’s life. This is the fallen, imperfect world that we live in. There’s nothing wrong with differing opinions as long as the Golden Rule stays intact.
But I would like to rise to the letter’s issued challenge to show that my Utopia is far from ideal or perfect.
First, I disagree that I am censored. She suggested that because I am a fellow Hutterite, I’m permitted to talk only about certain things, that if I wrote about the ‘undesirable’ issues arising among our people, I’d get into trouble. Since I’ve never attempted this in great detail, I can’t concede that being the case. But in my defense I’ll say this: I cannot in good conscience talk about situations that don’t directly involve me. To tell stories that aren’t mine to tell, to address circumstances in which I have no say so would be nonsensical and erroneous. To drag up painful past events about my colony would be resurrecting the very things I want nothing more then to leave buried. They’ve scarred us enough. Ironically though, if I’ve learned anything about life it’s that the past is never completely buried. It finds creative avenues to haunt you when you least expect it. Since this is the case with my colony the last thing I’ll do is blog in detail about the rebellion that has in the past defined my colony’s history. Dabbling about in search for a compromise on this is not an option.
Further suggested is that I portray my colony as “perfectly well functioning society”…is that what I’m doing? Correct me if I’m wrong, but the pieces I wrote about my Hutterite Heritage displayed a fair share of an imperfect, less than functional society! I was honest about the constant struggles we face in the article I wrote about The Hutterites last September. I really don’t understand what I’m missing here. To point fingers at closet drinkers, unhealthy relationships, the parents that don’t take their parental obligations seriously, the lack of spiritual guidance among our youth is not my place to discuss. I think as fellow human beings, not to mention fellow Hutterites, we’ll anonymously agree that those issues are universal. Hutterites aren’t born Christians…that’s a lifestyle each individual must chose to live, and frankly, not everyone does it. We don’t live the Utopian, more spiritual life because of a name we inherit.
What do you want me to talk/write about? What are the kinds of issues you want me to address? I can write about anything. But I will say that I use discretion and a preacher’s daughters’ judgment in what I publish. Being raised in a minister’s home, I have the utmost respect for my father and his position. I will not address situations that are not mine to discuss. It would be fruitless and unedifying.
To be further forthright about myself, as an individual I cringe at the thought of being too open about myself. You may have noticed that I never did post my last Hutterite Heritage piece. The whole truth concerning that is that I cannot make myself do it. There are truths in it about me I don’t want to admit to myself, least of all to the world. My attempt to revise, simplify, reword and even mellow it out shatters it to pieces. So it will remain absent from your eyes until I can own up to it.
Lastly, and for the record, this almost forces me to chronicle of how, seventeen years ago, my colony’s existence give birth. Even that is history. Unusually, in repetitive order, colonies branch out when they’ve reach too large in number. A plot of new land is purchased and a daughter colony is born. The mother colony bears the responsibility of nursing this new colony into a functioning industry that can stand on its own feet. This process can take years, but when all is said and done, the two colonies part ways by dividing assets and families. It’s been our way since the beginning of the Hutterite’s existences.
That isn’t the way my colony was established.
But I don’t know if I can do the story justice. I was eleven years old when we moved here. I remember the excitement of the moment. It was raining the day we arrived and mom admonished us to stay out of the mud puddles. Large planks of wood served as makeshift sidewalks. The young ladies, our neighbors, from the trailer just a few yards down waved over at us in greeting. With child-like innocence I waved back. I was bursting with excitement.
Instinctual observation in a child’s life is razor sharp when events happen out of routine. It didn’t take me long to realize that all was not well with certain people in my colony. The memories are forever branded in me. I don’t think they will ever dim or fade. I have no desire to recall them, revisit and charade alongside them like old friends. Forgive me, but I haven’t the courage or mental energy for such an exertion.
But if I learned one thing about my colony’s history, it’s that the past is never just the past. It seems to be the future as well. I never thought I’d see the day I dread it.
But today I do.
I will close for now. Any thoughts left on this subject will keep for another day. I would like to talk of just the opposite next time. What it is like to finally experience a brotherhood “who dwells together in unity.”
Jesus Calling by Sarah Young
About the book:
Now available in this keepsake leather deluxe edition, missionary Sarah Young brings this uniquely inspired treasures from heaven for every day of the year!
After many years of writing in her prayer journal, missionary Sarah Young decided to listen to God with pen in hand, writing down whatever she believed He was saying to her. It was awkward at first, but gradually her journaling changed from monologue to dialogue. She knew her writings were not inspired as Scripture is, but journaling helped her grow closer to God. Others were blessed as she shared her writings, until people all over the world were using her messages. They are written from Jesus’ point of view, thus the title Jesus Calling. It is Sarah’s fervent prayer that our Savior may bless readers with His presence and His peace in ever deeper measure.
My Thoughts:
This first person narrative devotional written by missionary Sarah Young failed to make my must-have devotional book list. I have to say I found it repetitive and couldn’t completely engage myself with it. I guess I’m spoiled on Oswald Chambers and Elizabeth Elliot.
The book comes in a beautiful, leather form. It’s almost small yet covers all 365 days of the year. I think I must admit I enjoyed the introduction of the book more than the devotionals itself. I will be passing this book unto a friend who admired it.
A copy of this book was provided for review by Thomas Nelson Publishers.
FIRST Presents Katy’s Debate by Kim Vogel Sawyer
It is time for a FIRST Wild Card Tour book review! If you wish to join the FIRST blog alliance, just click the button. We are a group of reviewers who tour Christian books. A Wild Card post includes a brief bio of the author and a full chapter from each book toured. The reason it is called a FIRST Wild Card Tour is that you never know if the book will be fiction, non~fiction, for young, or for old…or for somewhere in between! Enjoy your free peek into the book!
You never know when I might play a wild card on you!
and the book:
Katy’s Debate (Katy Lambright Series, The)
Zondervan (May 7, 2010)
***Special thanks to Krista Ocier of Zondervan for sending me a review copy.***
Bestselling, award-winning author Kim Vogel Sawyer has many titles besides “writer.” As a wife, mother of three, grandmother of six, Sunday school teacher, and speaker, her life is full and happily busy. In her spare time she enjoys drama, quilting, and calligraphy. Kim and her husband make their home in Kansas, the setting for many of Kim’s novels.
Visit the author’s website.
Product Details:
List Price: $9.99
Reading level: Young Adult
Paperback: 208 pages
Publisher: Zondervan (May 7, 2010)
Language: English
ISBN-10: 0310719232
ISBN-13: 978-0310719236
AND NOW…THE FIRST CHAPTER:
The Seeker by Ann H. Gabhart
When well-laid plans go awry, can she still make her dreams come true?
Charlotte Vance is a young woman who knows what she wants. But when the man she planned to marry joins the Shakers—a religious group that does not allow marriage—she is left dumbfounded. And when her father brings home a new wife who is young enough to be Charlotte’s sister, it is more than she can bear. With the country—and her own household—on the brink of civil war, this pampered gentlewoman hatches a plan to avoid her new stepmother and win back her man by joining the Shaker community at Harmony Hill. Little does she know that this decision will lead her down a road of unforeseen consequences.
Ann H. Gabhart brings alive the strikingly different worlds of the Southern gentry, the simple Shakers, and the ravages of war in 1860s Kentucky to weave a touching story of love, freedom, and forgiveness.
My Thoughts:
A very enlightening peek into the Shaker lifestyle. What a mystery this group was! I knew them only by their name and the discovery what a rich experience. They functioned as a communal but had some very different belief then that of the Anabaptist people. Yes, they were pacifists, but I found it alarming at their endeavor to be unattracted to the opposite sex. It was forbidden, completely. To join them meant you couldn’t marry. This lifestyle attracted many improvised people, orphans and as the books accounts, simply ppl who needed a warm meal…for it’s been said the Shakers never turned their backs to anyone in need. As for the characters in the book I didn’t always like them. I found the young man, a talented artist, annoying at the beginning of the book…then he’s absent from Charlotte’s life for the better part of the book, though they stayed in contact by letters he wrote. Charlotte was brave, ambitious and, even if I never found the word in the book, an abolitionist. Quite ironic for a rich, southern family whose wealth was the labor of slaves…
All in all, I enjoyed the book. This is the third and final installment and although our library shelves the first two, I haven’t read more than the back summary. They are well researched and well-written. If you enjoy this type of book, this will help the hours fly by.
This book was made available for review by the publishers. Available July 2010 at your favorite bookseller from Revell, a division of Baker Publishing Group. Purchasing info. here.