Yes!…oh, wait…

 

HomeMaker

Life is funny sometimes. All the best laid plans, filled with good intentions, research, and excitement can get turned on their head. This happened to me this year.

I started the New Year with a new blog, a new social media schedule, a Patreon, about four different short stories/flash fictions sitting in different publishers’ laps, and all my social media nicely linked together under the name Faerie Stories: Warrior Stories for the Brave. I was excited! I had plans to use my writing time and that shiny new schedule to build a platform for Children’s stories, Middle Grade stories, and YA stories. I was ready to work. I set aside more of my writing time so I could listen to videos and podcasts to hone my art and meet other writers. I was excited.

Well laid plans are a good thing, but sometimes you don’t really get to experience them. Sometimes something bigger and better comes along. Sometimes something you only dreamed about happens. Sometimes your husband needs your help more than others. This is what happened to me.

In short order this year, my husband was nominated as an elder in our church. He was voted in and shortly after that he was brought on full time with the church planning on paying for seminary. With that blessing, I quit my job at Nordstrom. I became a full time homemaker for the second time in my life, better prepared, mentally, emotionally, and educationally this time around. Since my health had started improving, I longed to quit splitting my energy and time between my home and Nordstrom. I longed to have my whole focus here.

With both our lives changing, my writing had to be examined and my husband and I both agreed that for now, for the time being it needed to be a hobby. It was time for my writing to be something I piddle with instead of focus on.

This was hard, but necessary.

Necessary but not easy.

The best laid plans of mice and men...

It meant that just as I felt like I was starting down the road to being published, I had to pull back. Just as I felt my voice being accepted, I had to slow down. This means no more getting up early to write. I get up early to get my day going. Instead of writing six days a week, I might write two hours a week. This means putting my mind to work in my home for my husband instead of torturing characters. Sad day.

There is a huge push in writing circles to be published. When you say you’re a writer, that’s the first thing people ask. All the writing forums are about being published. They’re either there to help you polish, or prep, or primp your story for the world. That’s all wonderful, but I’m not at a point where I can devote the time or money to primping my stories for the world. I had to make the tough decision to unfollow, unsubscribe, and stop reading all the things about writing. No matter what I did, the minute I engaged in a writing group, I can’t focus on my work. All I want to do is write. It’s hard to be content when you’re feeding your mind with all the other writers who have shiny books.

Just as I kicked off my new blog, I found my blog writing better suited to my old blog.

Just as I prepared to jump in the deep end, I found I didn’t really have a pool.

There was some sadness to this decision. I’ve wanted to have one of my books in print for years now. Almost twenty years. But, that dream has to wait. Oddly, there was also a lot of freedom in this decision. Now that I moved from trying to be publishable, to just writing for fun, I could…well…write for fun. I can take what little time I have and work on fun stories, old stories, new stories. I was suddenly thrilled at the idea of all the stories I could work on cause I didn’t need to spread my time around writing things that were meant to be published. In a way, I took a big sigh of relief. Sometimes a dream is meant to be a hobby for a little while longer.

So, right now, I’m going to post between here and my Gentle and Quiet Spirit Blog. Gentle and Quite has a much broader readership that I feel like I’m no longer serving or interacting with. On Faerie-stories, I’ll share about my writing, and my stories, but theological, soapboxes, and homemaker articles won’t be here. I’m going to be a focused, down and dirty Homemaker and HearthKeeper. I’m still writing. I’m going to keep my social media platforms open and inching along, but not at the pace I was before. So. Please keep reading if you can. Follow me on all my things. And we’ll see what the Lord does in my life…because dear reader, sometimes He brings things about you totally didn’t expect.

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Ordination Service: A Wife’s Perspective

A Wife's Perspective
Growing comfortable being a Sunday widow, I watched you walk to the front of the room just like I had countless times before. But, this time it was different. You left my side, stalk up in your heavy way of walking that has earned you the nickname Strider, and stood beside Pastor Jarrett. Steve Martin, Steve Garrick, and my father (looking a bit Balin-ish) joined you. Jarrett said a few words and then one by one they laid their hands on you and started to pray.
I started crying. I hadn’t planned on crying today. I didn’t expect to cry. Tear up? Yes. Weep? Nope. I couldn’t hold back. I couldn’t stop. Tears streamed down my face. Emily Shiflet, who drove up from Houston to witness this great event, put her arm around me. I wept.

But, these were not sad tears. These weren’t happy tears. They were mingled tears.

There was more joy in this situation than I can ever express. I have had a front row seat in my husband’s life. I have seen his great sin, his many faults, and the great grace he has been shown. I have known him when our marriage was falling apart, and when we were putting it back together. I have walked at his side when he was asked to teach, and when he kept teaching despite the long hours of study it took, despite the cut in pay it took, despite the lack of any sort of consistent day off it required, despite the hours I never saw him. I have prayed for him and with him. I have studied him both as my husband, and as a fellow church member to see if he was qualified.
It has been my husband’s dream to be a pastor since he was a kid. And here we are. It hasn’t been an easy road. It’s been a road filled with sin, pride, the work of sanctification, patience from others, self-sacrifice, self-doubt, sleepless nights, long conversations, encouragement, critiques, and grace upon grace upon grace.


I wept tears of joy to see my husband get to step into the role he’s always dreamed of filling. I wept tears of joy because God worked it all out in his timing, which was so much better than ours. I wept tears of joy because God promised to gift his churches with pastors and teachers, and today he kept that promise yet again. He’d raised up a young man to continue to shepherd our church. And, I wept cause just a month ago, I don’t think my Dad would have been able to be there. To see him standing there, gripping my husband’s shoulder, was joy upon joy. I wept tears of thankfulness.
But, there was a tinge of sadness to those tears. While my husband took the role of pastor on his shoulders, while the older men prayed around him, while the church watched and prayed, I had a deep sense of missing two men. I deeply, heart-achingly, trustingly missed my extra Dad. Price was being ordained and Vidal was no longer with us. Oh, how thrilled and proud he would have been to see his son called as a pastor of our church. To see Price standing there would have probably made Vidal cry, but it was a moment I know Vidal longed to see. The Lord, in all his kind wisdom, chose to take Vidal home before he got to see this great moment.
The other man I missed was Ron Baines. Ron took Price under his wing early on. They shared a great love of the Old Testament, and Ron pushed Price to go to seminary. Ron was one of Price’s greatest cheerleaders. Again, I wept because I knew Ron would have been thrilled. Ron would have been one of the men up there praying over this new pastor, but, the Lord, in all his kind wisdom, chose to take Ron home before he got to see great moment.
So, I cried and cried. Happy and sad tears, trusting tears overflowing with the grace of God, trusting his timing and providence, for he is God and knows all things, sees all things, and I’m but a weary creature.
There was such a huge amount of joy wrapped up in this moment. Getting to see my husband’s dream come true was one of the most fulfilling moments in my life. My love for him has only grown. I’m so proud of him, so thankful for him, so happy for him.
Our church has endured persecution of late. Price being ordained was encouraging. Christ proved through this that he was still with us, still tending us, still gifting us, still faithful to us. We weren’t cut off, we weren’t lost. We few, we happy few, we band of brothers, were still together. My Dad has been on sabbatical due to some, honestly, scary heath issues, and not only was he able to be there yesterday, but, Christ hasn’t left everything in Jarrett’s lap. Dad had to step back from his duties, but in God’s perfect timing and providence, Price was brought in. Price has been faithfully serving for five years and wasn’t a raw recruit. He wasn’t a greenie. God worked it out perfectly so that when Dad had to step back, Price came to the table with experience. It was an amazing thing to see the love of Christ for his bride.
So my husband is officially an elected elder of our church, and an ordained minister.
I’m tired, but happy. I’m filled with joy to stand beside this man through life, to every day, when I cook, clean, iron, pay bills, enter accounting info, water plants, vacuum, and manage all of life, to serve my pastor, and by serving him, I’m serving the church.
I believe every women who diligently keeps her home serves her church. I believe that with my whole heart. My service just because a little more tangible, that’s all.
Pray, dear sibling-saints, pray for your pastors. They bear a great burden. They have a great love for the flock. The sacrifice much of this world for the sake of the next. Pray for them. They defend us from the wolves within and without. Pray for them.

Why Warrior Stories? (Part 2)

Why Warrior Stories_
I’ve loved brotherhood stories my whole life. Most of my favorite books and movies, my favorite stories, have a central brotherhood core. This is the Fellowship in Lord of the Rings, Madmartigan and Willow, the rabbits in Watership Down, the four heroes of Final Fantasy XV, and many more. I love the bond between men who face the world together. I love the women who stand at their sides, or even care for their homes and children while they fight the world. I love HearthKeepers and Huntsman. (Which is actually one of the YA series I’m always working on.)
I believe that both men and women can be warriors, I just think that warrior-ness expresses itself differently. (The world thinks it’s the same, but it’s not. I’m not a man. I’m not going to be the same type of warrior my husband, brothers, and fathers are. I’m going to be a warrior the way my mothers are, my sisters, and my dear friends. I’m going to stand by my husband and guard his back, guard his home, keep things going. I want him free to face the dark world, and protect me. That kind of female warrior-ness takes great courage, sacrifice, and fortitude. And that’s a big rabbit trail.)
As I’ve gotten older, I realized this magical bond, this brotherhood, is most starkly seen in war stories. War exaggerates the bond between men. When I finally sat up and took note of that, I started working through every war movie I could find. My current ‘Top Five Favorite Movies’ are Rambo 4, Fury, Lone Survivor, Gladiator, and Lord of the Rings. I love 13 Hours. And yes, Band of Brothers is my second favorite TV Show right after Firefly. I am slowly but surely collecting all the books written by and about the Band of Brothers. I can’t get enough of brotherhood war movies.
I think that real spiritual warfare is our day-in-day-out, ordinary battle against our own sin, the corruption of the world, and false teaching. This is spiritual warfare. If you were able to look at an ordinary church with TrueSight goggles, you would see a gathering of dirty, broken, bleeding warriors filling the pews. I think images of battles—be it the Somme, or somewhere in the Middle East—are a more accurate representation of our daily lives as saints still in this world, than anything else. And I think our love of our local church members should be as strong as the bond between brothers in combat. We are in the trenches together and we should see it that way.
In Lone Survivor they say, “Never out of the fight.” If that’s not true about you and your battle against your own sin, I don’t know what is.
These are the two reasons I love, love, love warrior stories: brotherhood and spiritual warfare.
I also love the idea of standing up for what you believe and for who you love, with violence.
We live in a world that no longer respects the idea of defending your and yours with strength and a weapon. We have become so acclimated to a tame world, that men who willingly stand up against the darkness, or just stand up to a bully, are labelled a bully themselves. We think violence isn’t our right, but only something uneducated rednecks indulge in, or only the government can be trusted with. We believe violence doesn’t solve anything, but we forget we live in a fallen world.
This world will never be heaven.
This world is broken and God isn’t planning on fixing it. He isn’t here to save the physical world.
You can’t stop someone intent on hurting you or your family or your country with nice words or by calling the government.
All you can do is cock your gun and pull the trigger.
This is reality.
The anti-violence attitude puts all of us not only in a sad state, but a dangerous one. We aren’t teaching our boys to defend others with their strength, but to sit down and act like girls. We aren’t teaching girls to have their man’s back, but to take over. We’re teaching girls that they can be just like a man, that they don’t need him, and that his innate warrior-ness is dangerous. It is dangerous, but it isn’t necessarily evil. You need a man to be dangerous, but you need him to control his danger so it is his servant not his master. Men who are abusive should be taken out by the men who aren’t, immediately. But, you can’t just say all signs of strength are bad. That leaves our homes, and our streets, and our countries undefended and open to attack.
This is another reason I love Warrior Stories. This is why I write warrior stories. The power of brotherhoods, real spiritual warfare, and the need for violence enflame me.

Warrior Stories are myRight
Do I think it’s weird that I, a woman, love Warrior Stories? Nope. I don’t. I think women are the holders. I think we’re the rememberes. We are the ones who sacrifice sons and husbands to these horrors. We are the ones who have to defend our homes when they’re gone. We’re the raisers of the next generation of warriors. Warrior stories are my right as a women. I want to know what my man faces, be it in the true realities of war, or be it the less dramatic, every day, ordinary strength he has to show. I want to know. I want to hold. I want to remember. I want to raise.
I also think we’re the HearthKeepers. My husband is a pastor. He is a warrior, in my mind. He wages war against false doctrine and false teachers. He stands up to lies for the sake of his church. He also works full time to provide for us. So, he works a full time job, comes home and studies, and then preaches on Sunday. He works and studies, works and studies, and preaches. That means that just like a cop’s wife, or a soldier’s wife, I handle the running of the home. I’m the HearthKeeper. I do everything else so that he can be free to work and study. I get the tires changed (what I’m doing while I write this). I do the accounting, cleaning, cooking, and social planning. I take care of wardrobes and rest. I am the HearthKeeper to my warrior.
So no. I don’t think it’s strange that I love Warrior Stories. I just hope I can inspire you to love them too.
What are your top five favorite movies? Have any war movies had a big impact on you?