Journal Jots – Blog

^“Her body tensed beneath his lips

 and he knew this was it—the moment of reckoning.

When Katie would tell him the truth or lie through her teeth.

Taut with both passion and anger, Luke coaxed, trailing her collarbone with kisses

 while toying with the strap of her gown . . .

—A Love Surrendered

Ahhhhhhhhhh … One book down in the “Heart of San Francisco” series, two books to go!! This week I worked on edits for Love at any Cost, and although it wasn’t as nearly as bad as A Love Surrendered when I had to cut 50,000 words, I still had to cut 5,000 words to meet my contracted word count. In order to do so, my editor “suggested” I cut a scene from the subplot of the widowed matriarch (Cait) and her rogue brother-in-law (Logan)—you know the one she was engaged to before he cheated on her and she marries his brother? Well, I love Cait and Logan’s sub plot sooooo much, that I worked like crazy to cut everything but their story, although I did trim the scenes somewhat. So I wasn’t sure if my editor was going to approve, but WHOO-HOO, she did and I got the nod today, telling me the check’s in the mail!! 😉

Ironically, I also received the galleys for A Love Surrendered this week as well, so I jumped on that yesterday after I finished the edits for Love at any Cost, and WOW, am I having a good time or what??? I honestly didn’t think I liked A Love Surrendered as much as the other O’Connor books after I wrote it, but going through the galleys today and yesterday, I am falling in love with this story, which is SUCH a relief! It’s SO much fun sit out on my lower deck (it was in the 70s yesterday!), feet up and hazelnut cinnamon coffee by my side while I edit the galleys, laughing, crying, blowing my nose with all the Kleenexes I’m going through. I’m telling you, this one rips my heart out, but then it’s no secret I’m a weepy type of gal, so maybe it’s just me!

Sooooo … in honor of finishing one book and almost done with the galleys on another, I thought it would be fun to celebrate! To do that, I’m going to introduce a new contest AND give you a brand-new excerpt from A Love Surrendered to whet your appetite like the galleys are whetting mine.

NEW CONTEST TILL MAY 31ST!!! Three chances to win!! Okay, everybody, this is your chance to win a signed copy of any of my books, including A Love Surrendered, a $50 gift card AND have a bit character named after you in Steven’s story, A Love Surrendered, due out in October. DETAILS ON THE CONTEST TAB OF MY WEBSITE, SO CHECK IT OUT!!

And now, one of my favorite love scenes from A Love Surrendered … It’s between Katie and Luke because obviously I can’t have too many “love scenes” between Steven and Annie since they aren’t married, after all. 🙂   Anyway, Luke has just found out that his new (and pretty) intern saw Katie studying with Jack, her old fiancé whom Luke despises, in the Hartford Law Library. Luke is irate, but also guilty because he hasn’t told Katie that he has a new intern with whom he’s been working MANY late hours. In this scene, Luke is coming home to try and coax the truth out of Katie … Hope you enjoy it!

Happy Weekend!

Hugs,

Julie

Opening the door into a dark parlor, Luke tossed his coat over the faded blue armchair rather than the brass coatrack Katie insisted he use, knowing it would ruffle her feathers. He intended to ruffle more than her feathers if she didn’t come clean, explaining just why she was cozying up to Jack. He peered toward their bedroom, where a shaft of light spilled down the dark hall, and then paused to suck in a stabilizing breath. He would give her every opportunity to confess, of course. He didn’t want to go off half-cocked like she would if she found out about Lauren. Besides, working late with an intern to prepare for the biannual board meeting when Bobbie Sue and Gladys were out of commission was a lot different than chumming it up with an old boyfriend.

“Luke—is that you, I hope?” Katie called, her voice groggy, like she’d fallen asleep.

“It better be,” he said, strolling into the bedroom with a wry smile. He sat on the bed to give her a quick kiss before removing his shoes and socks. “Unless maybe you were expecting somebody else?” He rolled the dirty socks in a ball and aimed it at the hamper across the room, where it ricocheted into a corner. Ignoring his faulty throw, he unbuttoned his shirt.

She reached her arms overhead in a lazy stretch and yawned, an open book flat on her lap. “Nope, my boyfriend couldn’t come over tonight, so I figured I’d wait up for you.”

Not funny, Katie Rose.

She delivered a sassy smile, her sleepy blue eyes and mussed blonde hair lending a sweetly seductive look that both annoyed and triggered his pulse at the same time. She leaned to glance at the clock on the nightstand, letting loose a low whistle. “Goodness, McGee, anyone would think you had a girlfriend, working as late as you do.”

Blood gorged his face, prompting him to rip the buttoned shirt right over his head, tie and all, hoping to deflect the heat in his cheeks. Crumpling it, he stood and sailed it and the tie toward the hamper, missing it by a mile.

Katie chuckled. “Gee, you’re zero for two. Hope you’re not losing your touch.”

He turned to face her, not missing the swell of breasts straining her nightgown when she reached to angle the clock. His mouth went dry, reminding him the last thing he wanted to do was to lose his “touch.” “Hope not,” he said with a faint smile, trying not to focus on her gown.

“So . . . are you hungry?” She sat up. “Because I can warm up the stew . . .”

“No.” The late hours he’d worked all week had certainly heightened his appetite . . . but not for food. He studied her while he unbuckled his belt, wishing she didn’t look so darn sexy in his bed when he had a bone to pick. He dropped his trousers and folded them before hanging them in the closet, then slipped into the bathroom to brush his teeth and change into pajama bottoms. Returning, he flipped off the light and crawled into bed, pulling her into his arms as he sucked in a deep breath. With a gentle kiss to her head, he exhaled his stress, praying the encounter with Jack was only by chance. “So . . . how’s Kit?”

She snuggled in, teasing the smooth skin of his chest with soft, little kisses that almost pushed Jack from his mind. Almost. “Well, she learned all her colors this week and drew a picture of you and me under a rainbow with her crayons, so she’s real excited to show it to you.”

He sighed. “I can’t believe she’s going to be three,” he said, grateful Katie had bonded so closely with his adopted daughter. “Seems like she was just a baby.”

“Well, she’s not a baby now,” Katie said with a grunt, “and she’ll spit in your eye if you tell her so. She’s even taken to selecting her own clothes, refusing to wear anything I suggest. Today she wore a striped romper with a plaid blouse. I thought my eyes were going to cross.”

He chuckled, thinking for the hundredth time what a good mother Katie was. He suddenly thought of Jack, and his smile went flat. Now to make sure she remained a good wife . . . “How’s school?”

“Draining, especially the seminar Monday night. I was spent when I finally picked Kit up from Lizzie’s.” She trailed a finger over his bicep and down his arm, slowly circling his palm with her thumb. “I felt like you with all the hours you work. I don’t know how you do it, Luke.” She nuzzled his neck. “When’s the board meeting over again?”

“Three weeks,” he said, his voice a near croak. He forced himself to focus on the problem at hand rather than the thrum of his body. “So . . . other than the seminar Monday night, what have you and Kit been doing with the rest of your evenings?”

Her thumb ceased. “Nothing much, lots of books, games, walks—you know, the usual.”

He paused, fiddling with the strap of her gown. “So you just stayed home all week? Didn’t go anywhere any else, like your parents’ or Lizzie’s?”

Her chest expanded and released with a heavy draw of air before she responded. “Well, I did go out last night,” she said slowly, voice breathless. “Mother watched Kit while I went to the law library.”

The air eased from his lungs. “Alone?”

She hesitated a moment too long. “Yes, of course. Meg couldn’t go.”

“Aw, you hate studying alone.” He massaged her arm. “Run into anybody you know?”

He felt the shift of her throat when she swallowed hard. “Uh . . . yeah.” She rushed to kiss him full on the mouth, swaying her lips against his. “Mmm . . .”

Heat jolted, and he rolled her over, kissing her thoroughly before trailing his lips to her throat. “Who?” he whispered, the scent of her almost making him forget that he cared.

She moaned softly, ignoring his question while she tunneled fingers into his hair. His lips wandered lower. “Who, Katie?” he asked again, and her body went completely still. He looked up, heart thundering. Tell me the truth, Katie—please. “You all right?” he asked quietly.

Her mouth opened and closed as if she wanted to speak, but nothing came out, blue eyes blinking so fast, he thought she might cry. All air wedged in his throat. Please, Katie, don’t lie . . .

“Luke,” she began with a chew of her lip, “you know how I’ve struggled with contract law and you’ve been too busy to help?” She avoided his eyes. “Well, I . . . ,” a shaky breath quivered out, “accepted someone’s offer to tutor.”

He didn’t breathe.

She stared for several seconds, eyes clouded and teeth grating her lip in a way that meant she was weighing her options. Disappointment stabbed when she lunged to take his mouth with hers, pulling him down. “I love you, Luke McGee,” she whispered, “and I missed you so much, it hurt.”

Yeah, I know the feeling. Tempering his frustration, he gently fondled her lips, taking his time with a languid kiss that made her go soft beneath his hold. In a slow and measured tease, he explored her mouth with his own, eliciting a moan deep in her throat when he gently tugged at her lip. “Who?” he whispered again, mouth straying to the lobe of her ear.

“What?” Her eyes were closed and her breathing shallow.

His mouth meandered to the curve of her throat, keeping pace with his hands as they skimmed the curve of her body. “I was wondering who helped you?”

Her body tensed beneath his lips and he knew this was it—the moment of reckoning. When Katie would tell him the truth or lie through her teeth. Taut with both passion and anger, Luke coaxed, trailing her collarbone with kisses while toying with the strap of her gown . . .

She shuddered beneath his lips, voice barely audible and as soft as a guilty thought. “Jack.”

His lips stilled on her skin. The lids of his eyes weighted down with relief before heat surged that had nothing to do with the lure of his wife’s body. “Jack?” he rasped, the word more of a hiss than a name. He jerked to a sitting position, shocked at the venom that flowed in his veins. “You asked Jack to tutor you?” He pierced her with a gaze that made her squirm.

Wincing, she shot up, hand clutched to his arm. “But you told me to get help . . .”

His mouth went slack. “From your teachers, Katie Rose,” he ground out, “not your former fiancé.” He slashed taut fingers through his hair, feeling the tug of the couch. “Oh, I’ll just bet old Jack is flying high over this one, worming his way back in.”

“He is not worming his way back in, Luke, he’s helping an old friend.” Her eyes sparked, matching a tone way less conciliatory than before. “Because,” she said with tight emphasis, “her lawyer husband can’t find the time to come home, I might add, much less tutor his wife.”

He leaned in, lips compressed along with his jaw. “Yeah, well, I work for a living, Katie Rose, which, I might add,” he said, mimicking her words, “apparently allows my wife the time and luxury to dally with her old boyfriend.”

“Dally?” she breathed, all color blanching from her face. Her petite body rose up several inches to slant in, meeting him nose to nose. “My GPA in contract law has gone from near-failing to dean’s list, you Neanderthal, and no thanks to you.”

She may as well have bopped him with his own club—heat blasted his face. Translation: My old boyfriend was there when my husband wasn’t. He swallowed hard, guilt the perfect stabilizer for jealousy. “You’re on the dean’s list?” he said quietly, pride battling the angst in his gut.

The jut of her lip softened, catching his eye, stirring his pulse. She folded her arms with a grunt. “Yeah, well, I guess all that ‘dallying’ must have paid off.”

He exhaled heavily, hands mauling his face before they dropped to the bed where his fingers strayed to circle her thigh. “I’m proud of you, Sass,” he whispered, “really I am, and I apologize for not being here when you needed me.” Cupping her face, he bent to brush a tender kiss to her lips, then pulled away, eyes locking with hers. “But I have a right to know, Katie—did you ask him, or did he offer? And where and how long has this been going on?”

She stared at her fingers, now laced with his. “Four months,” she whispered, muscles tugging in her throat. “At the law library. I ran in to him one day and he offered to help.”

“Oh, I just bet he did.” His fingers nudged her chin till her gaze connected with his. “Four months?” he repeated. “You’ve been meeting with that clown for a whole semester?” He expelled a noisy breath, torn between kissing her senseless or shaking her silly. He opted for the first and pushed her to the pillow hard, descending with a kiss meant to restake his claim. “Never again, Katie Rose,” he whispered when he finally came up for air. “Jack is out of our lives for good, is that clear? No tutoring, studying, or dallying of any kind beyond hello and goodbye. The next time you need help, you come to me, no matter how busy I am, understood?”

She nodded, eyes glazed and chest pumping. Her gaze strayed to his mouth, and his blood heated by several degrees, but he restrained himself to drive the point home. “It’s just not smart, Katie, for a married woman to spend time alone with a man unless he’s the dean, a blood relative, or a priest.”

Or an intern? The thought singed the back of his neck, setting his jaw. Lauren’s different, he argued in his mind, an employee and nothing more. And hired by Carmichael, not me.

A soft smile tilted her beautiful lips. “You’re right, and you have my word—I’ll never spend time with Jack again.” Her eyelids lowered to half mast, delivering a smoky look that tingled all the way to his toes. She licked her lips, mouth parted and words breathy. “I’m sorry, Luke, I know how I’d feel if you did that to me …”

He swallowed hard.

Issuing a seductive smile, she trailed fingers down his bare chest. “From now on, you’re the only tutor I need.” She tugged him down until his mouth mated with hers. “But it’s only fair to warn you, Mr. McGee,” she said, breathless against his skin, “with extra classes this summer, I may need a whole lot of work.”

He descended, settling in with a broad grin. “No problem, Sass,” he whispered, his mouth playing with hers. “You can depend on me to work you hard till you shine. But just to make sure . . .” Lips skimming her jaw, he eased his way down, dislodging the strap of her gown with his teeth. “We better begin tonight . . .”

 

^“He must increase, but I must decrease.”

—John 3:30

You know, ya gotta love John the Baptist. I mean, come on—the guy is as about as down-to-earth and real as you get, the true salt of the earth. His clothes were made of camel hair and leather, he ate nothing but locusts and honey, and speaking of sodium chloride, his tongue was salty enough to call a spade a spade … or a Pharisee a brood of vipers. Let’s face it—he was a truth-seeker. A bottom-liner. A no-nonsense type of guy. Everything I love.

Which is why I thought of him this week when the Christy Award finalists and the Genesis Semi-Finalists were announced, because that is the moment of truth for so many of us Christian writers. Will we final? Are we good enough? Will we impact people with what we write? You see, the Christy Awards are the Christian Oscars, and I don’t care what kind of Inspy fiction you write, there’s gotta be a longing in your heart to snatch one of those babies. At least for me there is, especially since I’ve been a die-hard fan of Catherine Marshall since I was 23, the author who wrote the novel, Christy, for whom the Christys are named.

I didn’t final, of course, a bottom line that always brings me back down to earth with a not-so-gentle thud, but to be honest, stone-cold reality is where I like to be. Not floating on a cloud, mind you, but on solid ground where the truth lives and breathes and anchors you to what is really important. And the truth is—it’s not about me. It’s about Him. Good ol’ John the Baptist in a nutshell—we must become less so Jesus can become more. This has been an endless mantra for me and something I strive for despite the blood in my veins and the humanity in my soul.

Last week I wrote about the evils of comparing in my Journal Jot, which essentially is what contests are, elevating some over others, and I honestly have nothing against that. In fact, I love American Idol, the Oscars, the Grammys and the Olympics—they’re exhilarating and fun to watch and, quite frankly, competition is healthy and important to our society. Without question, excellence in music, movies or sports brings pleasure to the masses, yes, but not finaling, winning or placing? Who would believe that it has its benefits as well? You see, those things bring one’s focus back to why we as Christians do what we do, be it sing, write, dance, perform, compete or just live our lives. For His glory and His pleasure. Like my good friend and author Cathy Gohlke said in her recent Seeker post entitled “The Road Less Traveled to Publication”: “Suddenly, I had not only permission to do what gives me joy, but the assurance of God’s blessing. I felt like the Olympic runner Eric Liddel (from the movie, Chariots of Fire), who felt God’s pleasure when he ran, only for me, it was, “When I write, I feel God’s pleasure!”

God’s pleasure—the place where each of us truly wants to be. To give Him pleasure with our obedience, our prayers, our lives … and yes, even with our attitudes of humility and thanksgiving when we don’t final, don’t win, don’t make the grade. And the beautiful thing is that His pleasure is eternal, not fleeting like awards that can tarnish with age or taint our humility, bestowing instead a holy glow when He says, “Well done, good and faithful servant.”

No, I didn’t final in the Christys this week, but I sincerely congratulate those wonderful authors who did and my prayers are with them. The good news is, however, that I did final in the Rochelle, and so help me, God, it brought tears to my eyes. So, what’s the Rochelle, you ask? No, it’s not a contest like the Christys, but in a bottom-line, rubber-meets-the-road, John the Baptist kind of way, it’s a prize far greater, bringing joy to my soul and pleasure to my God. You see, I received an incredible e-mail earlier this week from a beautiful reader friend by the name of Rochelle, which was a wake-up call to remind me just why I write in the first place. It’s for His pleasure and glory. Not mine, not my editor’s, not the Christy committee and not the Christian market. It’s for Him, first and foremost, a lesson I had to learn all over again in the wake of the Christys, and all because a sweet lady by the name of Rochelle took the time to send me this letter:

I have a friend whom I truly enjoy and care about. She is a reader and we have discussed some spiritual things before. Based on that, I recommended your books. We had a deal. I would read one of her books and she would read one of mine. She has fallen in love with the O’Connors and is falling in love with God in the process. She recently told me that after reading your books she felt the need to go back to church and so she, her husband, and 2 children have been attending church regularly and are even taking classes in the church to learn more about God and His love for them. Thank you for being able to share Christ with those who may not have been easily drawn to Him in any other way.  

Okay, somebody, quick—pass me the Kleenex, please! I mean, seriously, does it get any better than that? Not for me, my friends. True, it doesn’t shine or glimmer like a Christy nor can I plop it in my signature line, bio or resume, but somewhere way, way up in the heavens above, there’s a holy God smiling, and I gotta tell you, I can feel His pleasure clear down to the tips of my painted toes.

My Journal Jot last week spoke of the fact that we are all pieces of the puzzle in God’s heart, like Faith O’Connor tells her little sister in A Hope Undaunted, “You own a little piece of God’s heart, like a piece of a puzzle that’s missing. A piece nobody else can fill.” Yes, some pieces are louder, more vibrant and colorful and stand out in a pile of die-cut cardboard, but all are truly needed to create the whole that brings pleasure to the creator … or in our case, the Creator. “Now you are the Body of Christ, and each one of you is a part of it.” —1 Corinthians 12:27. Colorful or no, bestseller or, award winner or no, we are all important pieces of God’s heart, not only vital to the joy and pleasure of the Almighty, but the pleasure of others when we emulate Him. Like another author friend of mine, Sharon Hinck, so beautifully wrote in the excellent devotional, Mornings with Jesus, which I highly recommend:

“When the first snowstorm of the winter arrived recently, I set up a jigsaw puzzle. As I worked on it throughout the week, I glanced passed the pieces that seemed dull and uninteresting. My eyes were drawn instead to the key red piece for the roof, or the vibrant blue bit over the treetops. I shoved aside a muddy brown piece and left it to wait at the side of the card table. But when the puzzle was complete, that last piece was vital. Each piece, each shape, each color, contributed to the finished work. God hasn’t called me to be every piece in the puzzle or even to be the brightest or shiniest piece. He asks me to be the specific piece He has made me to be.”

The specific piece He has made me to be. Oh, the reward in resting, enjoying, thriving as the piece—the author, the mother, the daughter, the wife, the friend, the person—He created us to be! As God is my witness, I will take it over a thousand Christys because I have learned—as Katie O’Connor learns from her sister, Faith, in A Heart Revealed—that “His will is … the path to our highest pleasure.”

And so, I want to thank dear Rochelle for taking the sting out of not finaling this week and also my sweet friends, Gabe S. and Jen C., for your God-breathed encouragement during a week that my soul desperately needed to soak it up. Like Aaron and Hur in the Bible who held up Moses’ hands during battle so the Lord’s will could be done, you held my hands up until the battle against discouragement and jealousy could be won, and it was! And for my precious friend, Laura, who I know was praying for me just like I was praying for her. You are remarkable blessings, all! Finally, I want to thank good ol’ quirky John the Baptist for teaching me that less is more—me becoming less so Jesus can become more—the true path to peace and joy in my writing, my family and in my life. What a guy! And, oh my, what a God!

FUN WEEKEND EDITION IN SEEKERVILLE!!! Everything from how to know if your agent is good to why old books smell PLUS Christian Retailing video clips of Mary Connealy, Deb Giusti, Audra Harders and me talking about our THREE FAVORITE BOOKS. Join us at http://seekerville.blogspot.com/2012/04/seekerville-weekend-edition_21.html

NEW FEATURE ON MY WEBSITE!! I read somewhere (Publisher’s Weekly, I think), where authors need to put excerpts on their websites because it increases sales, but I have been MOST negligent in this, so I have remedied that. I now have a tab on my website called “Excerpts,” where I list my favorite romantic and spiritual scenes from each of my books, including my upcoming novel, A Love Surrendered. So spread the word if you know anyone you think might like my books—just direct them to my Excerpts link for a taste of my writing style, okay? Thank you SO much!!

YEP, THE SALE IS STILL ON … Steven’s story, A Love Surrendered is ON SALE IN PRE-ORDER!!! For a very limited time, you can pre-order A Love Surrendered for only $7.72, which is almost half off, so if you plan to order it, NOW is the time to do it and if you do, PLEASE like the link, okay? Here are the links, but keep in mind that CBD.com’s sale price may not be loaded yet:

Amazon:

http://www.amazon.com/exec/obidos/isbn=0800734173/bakerbookhouseA

Barnes and Noble:

http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/love-surrendered-a-julie-lessman/1108614896?ean=9780800734176&afsrc=1&itm=1&r=1&z=y&

Christianbook.com:

http://www.christianbook.com/Christian/Books/product?isbn=9780800734176&event=AFF&p=1011504 

Happy Weekend, all!

Hugs,

Julie

Then Peter opened his mouth, and said,

Of a truth I perceive that God is no respecter of persons …”

—Acts 10:34

I gotta be honest—I love Scripture, I do, but frankly, the Scripture above is one of the few that always rubbed me the wrong way. I mean, the idea of God not respecting us, which is how I always read it, just grates, you know?

I know, I know, that’s not what it means—it means God shows no partiality. Which, from the perspective of a CDQ (caffeinated drama queen) who was often the butt of family jokes growing up and clearly not the favorite of a mother who fawned over my baby sister, should be a relief. And it is. God has no favorites—He loves each of His children the same.

And yet, as human beings, we want to be special. We want to outshine others. We want to be #1, the favorite child, the “best” friend, the thinnest girl in the room, the top worker, the most popular person, the best-selling author. We compare, which is deadly. Because the truth is we are “special” —to a God who loves each of us for who we are, no less or more than anyone else, and yet, somehow, “special” all the same. Faith O’Connor tells her little sister, Katie, in A Hope Undaunted, “You own a little piece of God’s heart, Katie, like a piece of a puzzle that’s missing. A piece nobody else can fill.” And I honestly believe that’s true—we are that special to God, each of us—uniquely special in that no other person can fill that part of His heart devoted to us, no one. We are that beat of His heart that would be out of rhythm without us, and yet He does it all without comparing.

“For My thoughts are not your thoughts, nor are your ways My ways,” says the Lord. —Isaiah 55:8.

And THANK GOD!! Because if God compared us to each other like we compare ourselves to each other, it would be a very sad day for the world. Comparison is a cancer that eats away at all that God has called us to be, all that He hopes to give us as children of His heart.

“Lord, you have assigned me my portion and my cup; you have made my lot secure. The boundary lines have fallen for me in pleasant places; surely I have a delightful inheritance. — Psalm 16:5-6

And yet, we do it. Over and over and over again. And it not only hurts us, but it hurts God who made each of us in His image and calls each of us “the apple of His eye,” — Zechariah 2:8.

For instance, just this morning, Keith came in to thank me for something stupid like making coffee for him mid-morning with cinnamon on the grounds. “You’re so good to me,” he said, and I winced. “Not near as good as you are to me,” I say, knowing full well that if my daughter were present, she would make gagging sounds over the “love fest” we always display in our home.

But that’s how I feel—like Keith gives WAY more to me than I do for him. Why? Because I compare. Let’s see, Keith makes most of the money, pays the bills, does work inside of the house and out, helps me with computer stuff and artwork ALL the time, never makes me walk, but always drops me off at the door, constantly comes to see me downstairs on the lower deck throughout the day to say hi, chat or give me a kiss, brings me a snack at 5:00 PM, tells me I’m good-looking (that alone is worth the price of the ticket!!) and is just flat-out kind and understanding whenever I lose my cool (like daily!).

Me? Uh … I clean the house on special occasions (when my prayer partners come over every three weeks, holidays and when we have company), do laundry every week and a half or so, cook a meal maybe once a week (my daughter is into cooking these days in a big way, so PRAISE GOD!!), make our bed, make coffee … uh … uh … yeah, that’s about it.  All I can say is THANK GOD Keith doesn’t compare, or I would be up the proverbial creek … although, he would probably not only bring me the paddle, but get in and do all the work! Sigh.

I HATE comparing because it always means one little girl in the class is an outcast while another is the leader of the clique. Since I was one of the youngest from a family of thirteen, when all my siblings were in school, I had to attend all three kindergarten classes during the day because my parents didn’t want to make a special trip to pick me up separately. Fortunately for me, I became the teacher’s pet (she gave me and me alone a peppermint each day!) and would you believe, kids used to fight over holding my hand on the playground? Pretty heady stuff for a little girl who was ostracized by her own family, let me tell you.

And then reality struck like the back of a hand when we switched schools and the trauma of it resulted in an outbreak of psoriasis on my arms and legs, forcing me to wear knee socks and sweaters during the hot weather so kids wouldn’t make fun of me. A futile attempt on my part since the old nun who taught 2^nd grade used to ask me in front of the whole class, “Are you sure it’s not leprosy?” Any of you who have read A Hope Undaunted will remember this very story from Katie’s past as well. And, like Katie’s story, I changed schools in the 5^th grade, hardened and determined to be myself no matter what people thought. So I ditched the socks and sweaters and lo and behold, the sunlight cleared up my psoriasis and I became one of the most popular kids in the class again.

One would think that this ping-pong popularity would make me determined to be part of the in crowd, but it had the exact opposite effect. I HATE partiality and favoritism and find myself drawn to those who others ignore. That is the chief reason I am SO big on encouragement because we ALL need it—to feel God’s love through someone’s kind words, sweet smile or a soulful prayer. That year in the 5^th grade, the in crowd invited me to join them and I very nicely turned them down, choosing to play on the playground with the kids that the in crowd spurned, because I used to be one of them. And to be honest, they were more fun and kind anyway.

This week I had the incredible pleasure of reading for endorsement a book by one of my dearest friends, Laura Frantz—Love’s Reckoning—and it is simply one of the best books I have ever read in the CBA, affecting me like few other books have ever been able to do. It’s haunting and stunning and heart-wrenching and exquisite … so was I tempted to compare? Oh, you bet, and next to Laura, I truly felt like a hack and would have been severely depressed if I didn’t love Laura the person so darn much. But just as the inclination came to belittle my own writing in the face of Laura’s, God whispered in that still, small voice of His that I am His and He has called me to do exactly what I am doing in exactly the way I am doing it. “Do not turn to the right or the left, Julie, but keep your foot from evil,” He whispered (Proverbs 4:27), “do not compare because I do not!”

Go ahead, I challenge you to think about the areas in your life that trouble you right now, that bring you down and cause problems. Are any of them related to you comparing yourself, your situation, your family, your job, your person, your life to anyone else? If so, it’s a cancer, and God implores us to stop it—to not look to the right or the left, but straight ahead, eyes fixed on Him and the path He has chosen for each of us.

For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the LORD, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future. — Jeremiah 29:11

Like Faith O’Connor tells Katie, in A Hope Undaunted: “If I’ve learned anything from painful experience, Katie, it’s that God’s will is the path to my ultimate happiness … and yours.”

Trust me, like Faith, I have learned this lesson first hand—more times than I can count. And what I have discovered when I find myself comparing is that the antidote, the chemo to this cancerous mindset is repentance coupled with a heart of gratitude. So THANK Him for all He has done in your life and all He yet plans to do. PRAISE Him in the good and praise Him in the bad, spitting in the eye of adversity because God holds you in the palm of His hand, and there is simply no better place to be. Always remember that each one of us is special, unique and wonderfully made in His sight, and we are, as Emma Malloy says in A Heart Revealed, “treasured possessions of a passionate God.” You own a piece of God’s heart that no one else can claim, you are that special, so never forget it. Trust me, God never does …

NEW FEATURE ON MY WEBSITE!! I read somewhere (Publisher’s Weekly, I think), where authors need to put excerpts on their websites because it increases sales, but I have been MOST negligent in this, so I have remedied that. I now have a tab on my website called “Excerpts,” where I list my favorite romantic and spiritual scenes from each of my books, including my upcoming novel, A Love Surrendered. So spread the word if you know anyone you think might like my books—just direct them to my Excerpts link for a taste of my writing style and let’s see what happens, okay? Thank you SO much!!

HOLY COW, THE SALE IS STILL ON … Steven’s story, A Love Surrendered is ON SALE IN PRE-ORDER!!! For a very limited time, you can pre-order A Love Surrendered for only $7.72, which is almost half off, so if you plan to order it, NOW is the time to do it and if you do, PLEASE like the link, okay? Here are the links, but keep in mind that CBD.com’s sale price may not be loaded yet:

Amazon:

http://www.amazon.com/exec/obidos/isbn=0800734173/bakerbookhouseA

Barnes and Noble:  

http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/love-surrendered-a-julie-lessman/1108614896?ean=9780800734176&afsrc=1&itm=1&r=1&z=y&

Christianbook.com:

http://www.christianbook.com/Christian/Books/product?isbn=9780800734176&event=AFF&p=1011504

HAPPY WEEKEND, ALL!!

Hugs,

Julie