Why talking to God should be easier than talking to people

First post while home for the summer! Feels rather surreal, and I’m trying to make decent use of my time here. With that, one thing that comes to mind a lot now is talking to God.

Whether you’d say talking to God and praying is one and the same, or you might recognize differences between the acts, I’ve begun feeling like people pressure themselves too much with the idea of personal communication with The Big Cheese. I mean, it’s a big deal, it’s a HUGE deal, the fact that Christ linked us on such intimate levels with The Father, and we shouldn’t take the idea lightly. However, God came to us, Jesus walked and talked with us so we wouldn’t have to be so timid with our Creator, so we could make our bodies His temple and talk to Him whenever we wanted to. It has occurred to me that, though we are puny, imperfect humans and God is not, it’s actually not so difficult to chat with God, and it should be easier to talk to Him than talking to other people, even.

In short, talking to God is easier than talking to people because He’s perfect and people are not. But you already know that, so I’ll go into more detail, and hopefully encourage readers that talking to God is more than just ranting to an unseen, flawless being whose responses and works are always mysterious.

Talking to God is easier than talking to people because God can always listen. When I say easier, I don’t mean it’s easier to know what to say and all that; finding the right words can take a while with any situation (like blogging). I mean it’s easier because He’s right there. Here, there, beside, beyond. God is inconceivably big, and He’s everywhere, always. When a person tells you he or she will always be there to listen, that’s not really true, because only God can always listen. People have busy schedules and on plenty of occasions, you’re going to want a friend around who just can’t be around. Plus, harsh as it sounds, not everybody wants to listen to you. Even friends will get exhausted with emotional ventings after so long. That’s what makes our friendship with God so special: He listens, cares and relates with us, all the while being our Sovereign King. When you’re addressing Him wholeheartedly, He’s not going to turn away or ignore you. He’ll hear you out, no matter what beef is on your mind, no matter where you are or what time it is. Come to Him humbly, but not with the assumption that He doesn’t want to hear what you have to say.

Talking to God is easier than talking to people because God will not misjudge you, misinterpret your words or twist them. At the most inopportune moment, a friend is going to take something you say and misinterpret the daylights out of it until it means exactly what that friend doesn’t want to hear. We’ve all had it happen and it stinks real bad. One moment, you’re having a cheerful conversation about music, clothes or favorite brand of toothpaste, the next, you’re getting the snot judged outta you, because you said something your friend took the wrong way. God won’t do that. He knows just what you’re saying, why you’re saying it, the origin of the thought which provoked you to say what you’re saying, and every factor in the chain of events leading into the electro-pulse-brainwave-stuff spurring the train of thought provoking you to say what you’re saying. Catch all that? Me neither.

Talking to God is easier than talking to people because His response can and does fix things. Though it’s not too often He’ll answer your questions or acknowledge your speech directly, like vocally-directly, He will respond if He wants to, because He loves you and wants to fix things. Maybe He always responds; there’s no way of knowing because His reply can be heard in so many ways and seen in so many happenings, our human minds don’t process every little detail of our lives that could be directly related to God’s answer. Either way, people can listen, understand and relate, but they can’t always do something. Ever been told, “I wish I could help?” or “I wish I knew what to say?” Me too, but that doesn’t happen with God. God will act, and if you don’t recognize an immediate response, He’s probably saying, “Just wait.” I mean, that’s the easiest answer for me to comprehend because it makes more sense than to have a perfect God who can’t take the time to hear me out. If you don’t feel like God is responding to something you prayed for, just wait. He’s not ignoring you. He’s either setting up the game board, or He’s waiting for you to realize it’s your turn to move.

In Christ,

Luther D. Powell

Novel Excerpt

It’s finals week, and I have no ‘bloppick’ for today. I thought I would post an excerpt of the story I’ve been writing since… I dunno, birth, maybe. I’m in the process of coming up with new titles for a lot of what I’m working on, and I honestly haven’t touched this in months, so I hope it’s not boring. If I’m not supposed to post this, I’ll let Lisa delete it, but I’m not one to back down even if I don’t have a topic, I gotta post something! Constructive criticism is appreciated, though I might get more than I bargained for asking for that, considering how long it’s been since I’ve read any of this.  

 

Around four a.m., he decided to take the bone back where he found it. I’ll put it back…and then maybe I can play with it again the next night. I’ll get night after night of fun out of it, then maybe break it sometime and find another. It might break on its own anyway, but I don’t have to risk that now. I’ll save it. 

 The cemetery was so serene this early in the morning. Obviously, nobody would be there to bother him when he returned the femur to its owner. With the bone in his teeth, he climbed over the spiky fence with ease, hoisting himself up over the points with his hands until he was high enough to vault forward, pushing off the fence’s edge with his feet. The femur vibrated against his molars as he hit the grass on the other side of the fence. Now, to remember the name on the gravestone…Can’t be giving anybody a bone they already have two of!

It didn’t take long for him to realize that he had already forgotten the concept of alphabetical order; letters arranged in different patterns no longer made English words in his eyes. Letters didn’t even look like letters. He could not read them, and not because it was dark outside. He could see fine in the dark. He just couldn’t read, not unless he could make a connection between his olfactory and visual senses. He decided to try and find the scent of his Axe deodorant and follow it back to the correct gravestone. It took fifteen minutes or so to find the owner of his toy and when he saw it again, he remembered how to pronounce the name on the commemorative block of stone. Oda Miller, there you are, you sneaky lady. I guess I’ll be giving this back now. I hope you didn’t mind that I chewed on it some. The woman had been at rest for over sixty years. He was pretty sure Oda wouldn’t have been missing that femur a whole lot.

 

Luckily, the hole he had dug to reach the femur in the first place was still dug up. All he had to do was drop the femur back into the grave and cover the ground back up. He gnawed at the large bone for just a minute longer, savoring that beautiful crunch, then spat it into the hole. It fell against another leg bone with a muffled clatter. The night-runner tried to be thorough when filling the hole back up, but there wasn’t much he could have done to fix the grass. After the grave was restored, he visited another nearby grave that was decked in so many flowers it could have passed as a garden on its own, the tombstone filling in for a lawn ornament. This old fellow probably won’t even notice if a few flowers go missing.

 

To make up for the ugliness of the grave he had just dug up and refilled to the best of his ability, he plucked two modest, yellow flowers from the dirt between his thumb and forefinger and placed them on top of Oda Miller’s disturbed grave. Here, these are pretty. Do you like the color yellow?

Something scrambled out from behind the tombstone to his left. His attention immediately hooked onto a large rabbit, scanning the area for a tasty flower to snatch up. A friend! Too bad I just finished burying my bone. Maybe he’ll let me chase him! The eyes of the nocturnal wanderer released an amber glow of delight as he locked his gaze upon the rabbit. The fluffy rodent stared back as though it had been caught in the act of some horrible crime. Before a minute passed, the bunny began side-stepping its way out of view. As though choreographing some sort of dance, the wanderer responded by stepping lightly to the right, almost mirroring the rabbit’s movements. C’mooon, give me a run, give me a run tonight! Two more weak steps by the bunny. Little, beady black eyes locked onto his. He licked his chops.

Thanks for reading!

In Christ,

Luther D. Powell

I Will Never Understand…

I will never understand how some people can have 20/20 vision. It’s something I legitimately have to remind myself —that some people can see without glasses or contact lenses. Makes me wonder what the world really looks like past these smudgy extensions of my perception, drooping down the bridge of my nose. When I meet folks who aren’t wearing glasses, I always ask them, “Are you wearing contacts?” expecting them to say yes. On very, very rare occasions, they say no. Even more rarely, they’ll tell me they’ve had laser-eye surgery… and I don’t care what anybody says, that just sounds scary. “Oh, it’s cheaper than replacing glasses and contacts, you just have to where this funny pair of shades for a few days after—” Um, lasers? No. No lasers. Not in my eyes.

Okay, so using glass to see better might be a bad move for some people too, but I’m careful. Except when I shatter glass doors by accident, but that’s a story for another day…

I will never understand how so many people my age and older can spend their lives choosing flings and one-night-stands over serious relationships. See, there’s choosing not to have a serious relationship, as in, not having relationships… at all. I know plenty of people who do that; I have phases like that, trying to keep my priorities straight and all that jazz. But what I don’t get is when people are willing to go on dates with girls and guys, sleep around, set themselves up for emotional trauma but they don’t care to follow through.

The word “love” is tossed around quite carelessly these days, so if you ask me, I believe some people are just terrified of true love. They don’t put in the effort to commit, but they subject their hearts to potential harm all the while. I don’t get it. I can understand the lack of Christlike love in someone’s life, making it a simpler decision to do things that may not be healthy emotionally or spiritually (or physically, really), but the secular media DROWNS us in messages of an attainable “true love” between two people, no God involved. I feel like that’s a naturally desirable thing with or without God, to find Mr. or Miss Right (almost said Mrs. and technically, that wouldn’t go over well on a first date…) and so many people squander that possibility on lust. I don’t get it.

I will never understand how some people don’t get depressed. Lately, I’ve been coming across a handful of people who say they’ve never experienced depression. I can understand some people not having depression as a condition, but those who have just never had it? How does that work? Can some people get sad and then… :gasp: just feel better? Sounds like crazy talk to me. Even those I know who have lived rather harsh lives, the friends we all know whom the world has used as target practice, a select few of mine have told me they’ve never let things get them down. What kind of anti-emotional wall must one build to experience such peace? I find my peace against depression constantly in Christ, but what about those who don’t ever get depressed? What are normal emotions like, conditions aside?

I don’t mean to sound gloomy, these are just a few random things on my mind a lot lately. Been busy with finals week studying and projects, made it hard to come up with a blog topic, or… blopic. Yeah. Bloppick. I think it works out better spelled that way. I need to plan more bloppicks ahead of time. Here’s a picture of me looking a lot happier than I sound, just to lighten the mood. Thanks for reading, cheers and God bless!

In Christ,

Luther D. Powell

Whoa, hey, I took that picture over the summer… and I’m wearing that same shirt riiight nooow. Weird.

Straying From the Plan

I’ve recently had a very intriguing conversation with a friend, and I feel the need to express my scatterbrained feelings on the topic. Being one of my closest friends and a brother in Christ, this friend wanted to tell me about a potential call from God he had been feeling, and whether I thought he should act on it or not.

Out of respect for this friend, I won’t elaborate on the call itself on a public site, but he said something specific that really made my braingears turn. Something along the lines of, “I’m afraid that if I act too soon, I’ll turn out to be wrong and be disappointed, but I’m afraid that if I act too late or not at all, I’ll be deviating from God’s plan for my life and I won’t get where I should be in the long run.”

Brace yourselves, because this is about to get deep… maybe…

This is a very real concern for my friend, and with good reason, but after contemplating on this for a while, a pretty hefty question came to mind: Is it actually possible for us as Christians to stray from God’s ultimate plan for our lives?

I may be preaching to the choir throughout this whole post, so bear with me, I’m still a young’un.

Broken down to its simplest form, sin is deviating from God’s righteous plan; it’s doing something that pulls us away from Him. But we as Christians have the mind-explodingly-great gift of forgiveness through Christ’s death and resurrection, and when we come to the cross with our burnt toast, Jesus takes it from us and says, “That’s alright, I love you, here’s another slice of bread, try again.”

That said, sin itself can’t necessarily pull us off the celestial blueprint of God’s plan, because as long as we’re forgiven, we can always start right where we left off when we fell. The Bible says the only unforgiveable sin is “blasphemy against the Spirit,” in other words, rejecting God (see Matthew 12:31). So obviously, only those who don’t have Christ in their lives unknowingly deviate from His plan, right?

Here’s the thing, God uses everyone to fulfill His eternal will, so like Pharaoh of the book of Exodus, even those who don’t call themselves Christ followers are still part of the plan. Not by choice, but God always leaves the option open for them to choose Him anyway. Even if they don’t choose Him, He still made the grass and stones they tread upon.

My friend was basically afraid of his life falling apart if he didn’t act on what he felt might be a calling. If God uses even the unbelievers, can He not also use the believers who don’t directly react to His call? Yes, God will allow bad things to happen for the sake of strengthening His children, hammering us to perfection, if you will, so if we don’t react, problems can always occur. But even in our trials, He can use us for the better of humanity.

We as humans simply cannot fathom the hugenormous vastronomicality of the definition behind what we call “God’s plan.” We see it too often from a limited perspective, expecting God only to be capable of leading us down one solid road when in truth, God exists in and outside every possible and impossible plane of reality. The fabric of space and time is merely a sheet of paper in His notebook of forever, on which he writes out the cosmos. He knows where our lives will end and every possible pathway we can take to get there, but He Himself allows us to decide where to walk.

I keep two things in mind whenever I question my current location in life: 1. I’m probably not where God really wants me to be, and 2. If I am where I am, I’m there for a reason, and God might want me there.

Confused? Me too. To clarify, God wants us to be perfect in the long run, hence His crucifixion to give us free access to Him, but He doesn’t expect us to be perfect in our Earthly lifetime… also hence the crucifixion. So it’s easy to say, “I’m not where God wants me to be,” because He’s made it clear that He wants us in Heaven. But we can’t deny that God has reason behind everything and we can’t know for sure if God does or doesn’t WANT us where we’re at in life to fulfill a certain purpose. So, I always tell myself both: “This is not where God wants me exactly, but it might be where He wants me now.”

Key word being “might,” because I’m a pea-brained human being who can’t grasp omniscience.

If you’re wondering how I responded to my friend, I tried to sum up all of the above, and encouraged him to ask someone smarter than me for advice.

I’m used to posting a picture of some sort, so here’s a drawing I’m currently working on entitled, “Gift.” Thanks for reading, cheers and God bless!

In Christ,

Luther D. Powell

Journey of The Map Quilt

The journey of The Map Quilt started when I was in fifth grade, learning about the Underground Railroad, watching my grandmother sew quilts, and discovering the astonishing fact that not all black people in the United States came here on slave ships.

I grew up on the east side of Wisconsin, but as I gradually learned more about the side closer to the Mississippi River, the rich culture wove its way into my psyche long before I considered writing a novel. To the county north of our farm a colony of free black farmers settled in community, where a few of the round barns created by a master caprenter, Alga Shivers, still stand. To the west of our farm a few farmers still grow tobacco and dry the leaves in long sheds.

Back on the eastern side of the state, while on a ramble one nice day, a historian of my town points out a dilapidated tavern and, kitty-corner, a blank-eyed house on a rural crossroad. “They say there’s a tunnel under the road,” he says. “For the underground railroad.” It no longer exists, perhaps filled in, bordered up, or only a fanciful notion.

But that’s where fiction comes from – a veritable “what if” of fanciful notions. The whisper of a rumor, the wish of being part of history, the wonder of why we are the people we’ve come to be. I started my professional writing career in 2004 when I started selling magazine articles and features. I’d written two novels and eventually contracted with Barbour for a “cozy” mystery, which I had to look up. What was published as The Gold Standard, the first book in the Buried Treasure series, released in 2009. Although I’d also contracted The Map Quilt in 2007, we hit major road construction. MAJOR. It happens. In the meantime I’ve been privileged to continue to grow my craft, and although I am delighted with the editing done, know this book could be tighter and better. It was still an “early” manuscript in my career. I sought a new publisher for three years and was blessed to find one. This book releases in electronic format first at the end of the month, and oddly enough, was set three years later in time when I wrote it.

 

 

 

 

So, what is a “cozy” mystery and how hard is it to set up a sequel? Let’s chat. 

Very basically a cozy mystery:

• Is between 45-65,000 words
• Has a crime has takes place off stage, often before the book begins
• Shows little violence or gore
• Contains no graphic language or vulgarity
• Uses a non-professional investigator to solve crimes
• Most often set in small communities
• And is not always inspirational

For demonstration, I’ll analyze The Gold Standard without giving the secrets away, next time.

How do I set up the plot for sequels?

Yes, you got it—seat of the pants writers do not often do well in this type of genre. It’s not just sequels, but the mystery itself that must be laid out well, but not so tidily that you take the fun away from the reader or that the story feels contrived. In my Buried Treasure series, the sequels set up well when Judy Wingate, the teacher/sleuth, moves to the home of her previously little-familiar family and sets out to learn about her family. She finds a lot of memorabilia in the attic; specifically in an old trunk. And, yes, again…that makes sequels forever.

This book releases in another week, so I don’t have purchase information yet.

 

Abandoning A Story

‘Tis a dark, depressing and gloomy topic: abandoning a story.

Okay, so it’s not that bad, but don’t you feel like a cruel and horrible person whenever it comes time to say, “This story isn’t working, these characters aren’t interesting, they must go”? It’s a feeling comparable to that of saying goodbye to a friend who lives far away, burying your pet hamster, tearing down the LEGO castle. Life goes on, but it still feels lame for the time, you know? I think I’ve reached that point with a story I’ve had in mind for maybe four years. I’ve only actually written about one page of solid material, and I just don’t see it amounting to much.

Is this common for the rest of you writers out there? What do you do when you feel the need to scrap an idea and focus on something new?

One of best pieces of writing advice I’ve received in the past few years is that every writer needs a mental shelf or drawer to hide ideas away in, when they choose not to put them on paper. A story not working out so well? Put it on the shelf, come back to it another day. I’ve done that with a handful of plots, especially since getting published for the first time, but I do feel like this old story idea might only ever be just that: an old story idea, shelved for eternity.

I’m one to cherish character names and personalities even if I never write them into existence, but there’s just something about having to say, “This was a cool idea once, but not anymore,” that kind of bums me out, leaves me restless on what to write next. It was pointed out recently in my Creative Writing Workshop class that in truth, none of us ever really invent characters or ideas out of nothing. We’re constantly being influenced by what’s around us, taking what we like and holding on to it, using it in stories, creating our own plots and scenarios. That said, is it really possible to completely abandon a story you’ve created in your head using influences from everything else around you?

I’d like to think the same spark, flare, spice, what have you, which stirred these ideas in the first place still lingers in my mind, waiting to find its place in another story. I do hate to call quits on an overall plot, but who knows? Maybe something will spur it back to life later on. On the bright side, part of my lack of interest in continuing this particular story has to do with my being so engrossed in perfecting another story lately, which has indeed been going well. Win some, lose some!

In other news, for those of you who have read my short story, Front Row Seats, featured in OtherSheep Magazine, my day was made a bazillion times better by a surprise visit by the real-life ‘Ted Bokelmann,’ aka Teddy Brown. My freshman year at BGSU, Teddy was my RA, and he and I connected well and became close buds. A uniquely Christlike friend, this man has made a huge impact on my life in the three years I’ve known him, and this is totally me giving a shout-out to him. Teddy, I love you, brother! He recently got married and is off looking for a permanent home with his wife, so I don’t get to see him much anymore. It brightened the atmosphere of my whole apartment complex to have him stop by for a few days, even though I almost didn’t recognize his cleanly-shaven face.

I’m also pleased to say that my mom has shown a friend of hers at work the initial sketch for my current commission piece. Most of my commissions these days come from ladies my mom works with, which is fine by me. I love drawing portraits in general, so if I can earn a few bucks from it, I’ll draw whoever however wherever. Anyway, Mom said the lady told her that she cried when she saw the sketch of her niece, to which I responded, “That’s either really good news or really bad news…”

Thanks for reading, cheers and God bless!

 

In Christ,

Luther D. Powell

Ten Unexpected Realities of Adulthood

Ten Unexpected Realities of Adulthood:

1. If you don’t clean it, it won’t get clean.

Living in an apartment with four guys my age has made this reality… hideously clear. One of my roommates is a ‘germaphobe,’ so occasionally, he feels the need to tidy everything up himself. Other than those moments, me and the guys get fairly passive when it comes to making sure stuff is spotless. After a while it hits each of us pretty hard: nobody wants to clean, so if you don’t clean up after yourself, your garbage and grime ain’t goin’ anywhere.

2. If you don’t need it, you probably shouldn’t buy it.

When I was younger, it made sense to me that if one has a lot of money, one can and should buy a lot of stuff. My adolescent logic: money = getting what you want. Nowadays, I would rather have less cash in my pocket than in my savings account just so I’d know I couldn’t squander it on simple pleasures like new clothes, entertainment, and ice cream. If you can’t afford it, don’t buy it. If you can afford it, you still probably shouldn’t buy it.

3. Telling friends about new story ideas won’t get the story written.

I do more talking about my stories than actually writing them. There was a time when talking about new ideas was nearly motivational enough on its own to get me in the mood to type up whole novels, but that was before I… wrote… good. What helps me get stories written now? Writing them. Not talking about them.

4. Women.

I mean…

Like…

I’m trying to…?

But…

I just…

Women.

5. Spiritual conversations aren’t difficult; Religious conversations are difficult.

It used to be awkward for me to talk to people about Jesus, mostly because I couldn’t grasp the difference between spiritual and religious conversations. Asking people what religion they follow and why can be tricky. Asking what people believe and having a calm discussion about it is easier, for me at least. Religion is an interesting topic, but what matters most is how others view life and understanding that in contrast with your own faith to spread God’s message more thoroughly. Talking about the differences between Protestantism, Atheism, Buddhism, and all the other –isms out there can lead to arguments about who’s got the better idea and harsh generalizations. I feel that it’s both simpler and deeper to flat-out ask a person, “What do you really believe?” and not, “In what religion do you categorize yourself?”

6. Jobs don’t have to stink.

Getting a job used to sound scary, boring and overall painful to me. I’ll admit, working at a factory a few summers back was indeed scary, boring and painful, but I had good days and bad. After working somewhere long enough and learning the ropes, interacting with employees and singing while you mop the floor isn’t so bad.

7. Demon Hunter’s new album is gonna be awesome!!!

Wait… this doesn’t go here. :ehem: Sorry.

7.5. Pets make better company than most people.

When I’m home in Marion, my cat can drive me bonkers sometimes. When at school, I miss her SO much! Seriously, you can tell your pets everything, you can hug and squeeze them whenever you need a snuggle buddy, pets are there for you no matter what, because they belong to you! Sure, conversations with Eunice are generally one-sided, but she’ll be my friend when nobody else will. I don’t know why she likes the sink so much, though…

8. Going out of your way to compliment a stranger brightens your day.

As long as said stranger takes it well. When I take the time to openly appreciate something about someone, it just makes the world look better, you know?

9. A weak stomach will only get weaker with age.

Yep.

10. Hugs secretly mean a lot to everybody.

Giving out hugs when I was little wasn’t really my thing. Family members, that was normal. Everyone else, too mushy-gushy. Now, depending on how touchy a person is, I really enjoy hugs from friends, and I’ve realized how meaningful a hug can be to somebody else my age who is going through hardships. If somebody looks like he or she needs a hug, you hug the daylights out of him/her, because it will probably make the person feel special.

Thanks for reading, cheers and God bless!

 

In Christ,

Luther D. Powell

Tuesday Promotion in Motion: Shellie Neumeier!

Welcome Shellie Neumeier, friend, fellow co-author, and all around fun person, even when she’s not here. Shellie says she’s an over-achiever, and I’d have to agree. She’s the only person I know who decided she wanted to be a writer and less than a year later held her first book in her hands, published by a traditional, but new, publisher. ~Lisa

Hi. My name is Shellie and I haven’t figured out what I want to be when I grow up. When I was little, I wanted to be a famous psychologist. Maybe even win the Nobel Peace Prize. So I studied psychology at the University of Wisconsin, Madison. But I met a young man with whom I fell in love and the thought of five more years of college…well, it didn’t sound so great anymore.

Then I wanted to teach high school. I could teach psychology. Maybe even sociology, social studies and history, too. Mom always said I was an over-achiever. But I moved out of state and my teaching license didn’t work.

Then I wanted to be a mom. We had four children, two by birth and two by adoption. When they grew older, I got bored. I served at my church and worked as a Children’s Ministry Assistant. In addition, I decided I wanted to be a tax accountant. I loved numbers and since the tax season piqued during the school year, it seemed like a perfect fit. But when tax season ended and the kids were still at school, I picked up my husband’s power tools. After drilling through my thumb with a screw driver and “leaving bits of me on every project,” my husband hid his tools.

He suggested I find a safe hobby. Something that forced me to stay still. That’s when I decided I wanted to be a writer.

Yeah, sounds like you have a winner in your house! Keep him, even though he took you away from Wisocnsin. Shellie, what do you love about this book?

Like any artwork a mom receives from her children, whether it’s macaroni art, finger painting, tissue flowers, or gallery premiers, you love the art you kids made because YOUR kid made them. I love this book because my children had a hand in making it. I love the thumb print my children made on this book.

Can you share with us the main thing you learned during the process of writing and publishing this book?

Children have an amazing imagination and they allow you to push fiction beyond reality in a way that may make some adults squirm. Come to think of it, children love it when you push those boundaries. Consider the greybar, the mythical pet in The Wishing Ring. This adult never would have crafted a beast that has the head of a greyhound, body of a polar bear, and wings of an eagle. It would be disproportionate, unable to fly, unimaginable. As a matter of fact, the flight issue has risen among adult readers time and again, but not so with my younger readers. They want to ride the critter themselves. Not only can they picture it, they can reconstruct it in their mind’s eye and interact with it. Love that.

The thought of doing something with the kids, letting them see that they are valued and matter is so important. I love that. What should your readers discover and want to share with their family and friends after reading this book?

My hope is that readers rediscover the truth in where beauty and strength lie. It’s not in their looks. Their possessions. Their friends (or family). Their beauty and strength come from a place deep within. A place God created and designed to nurture their unique version of beauty and strength. No one else’s. Theirs. There’s always good inside. We tend to forget that.

 

The Wishing Ring (book one in the Adventures of Cory and Ally),

published by MuseItYoung, ASIN: B0073UHRM4

Buy it on Amazon

 

The King’s Seal (book two), published by MuseItYoung

To be released 12/2012

Other books by Shellie:

Driven,a YA supernatural book from Risen Books

available from Amazon

and A Summer in Oakville, a romance, from BlackLyon Publishing

available from Amazon

Introducing the new guy on the blog

From Lisa: Our great thanks to Ben Erlichman who provided intriguing commentary for the past couple of years. Ben’s stepping back, as he said last week, to welcome new challenges and direction in his life and career. Ben asked Luther to walk with us and share his perspectives on his life journey. Luther has a fresh take and will spark many a thoughtful commentary.

Greetings! This is my first post at Reflections in Hindsight, hopefully first of many, so let me summarize what I’m about.

Grew up in a conservative Christian household with both parents and two older sisters. Went to a small, public school located amongst the cornfields of Marion County, Ohio. Been writing and drawing since toddlerhood. Attended an Alliance church nearly every Sunday. Never felt pushed or pulled in any direction; went to church because church was where people went on Sundays. And Dad was the choir director.

A buddy led me to Christ in a Meijer shopping cart at age four. I accepted Him again in sixth grade, when I began to desire a more faith-driven life. I was taught all about this loving Jesus who took the punishment for my sins, and wanted to know Him more. I was picked on, dished up regular helpings of verbal and occasionally, physical abuse until my last years of high school, and I didn’t want to be like those mean kids. I wanted to be like the Christ. They called me a weirdo and maybe I was, but so was He.

Weirdly loving. Oddly perfect. Wonderfully unique in His methods. That’s what I wanted to be.

I mean, somewhere in Kindergarten I wanted to be a cop, but that’s different.

In high school, I experienced more vividly the wonders of His Holy Spirit, the details of such experiences I’ll write about eventually. Graduated and enrolled at Bowling Green State University, majoring in Fine Arts. Every other family member had attended Taccoa Falls in Georgia, a Christian college, but I felt called to go somewhere that required Christ’s work more directly, somewhere with less believers.

Could have majored in writing, but I knew that majoring in art would give me the freedom to create pieces expressing His message however I wanted to. First year at BGSU went poorly due to a number of unpleasantries which intensified the depression I had fought since middle school. Luckily I made a handful of great friends through hardships, a select few of whom I call my brothers now.  My second year went much better, and I’m currently on my third.

I was introduced to Ben Erlichman last summer through a group page on Facebook called The Ragged Edge, created by Ted Dekker. Ben E. posted about submissions for his upcoming fiction magazine, and I was all over it. Since then, I’ve had a short published in Splickety magazine, another in OtherSheep magazine, and Ben asked me to fill in for him here at Reflections in Hindsight. That’s the extent of my writing career thus far, and I can’t thank Ben E. and Lisa Lickel enough for helping me spread my name around. Been writing a series of horror novels for literally half my life now, so I’m excited to make connections and go somewhere with those stories.

Why horror? In short, creepy stuff is what I’m best at, and straight-up Christian Horror is a genre not thoroughly covered quite yet. My works are about finding hopeful meaning behind the shadows most people fear and avoid. God is everywhere, in darkness and in light.

I’m also a freelance portrait artist. My commission work varies quite a bit, from portraits to pets to tattoo designs. I’m not here to sell my art, but I’ll definitely post something more about it sometime.

I think that sums me up pretty well. I look forward to posting weekly and getting to know more readers and writers through this blog. Thanks for reading and God bless!

In Christ,

Luther D. Powell

End of the Line

As I sit here in the hallway just outside my condo (I locked myself out—my house and car keys are inside so I’m stranded), I can’t help but reflect on how far I’ve come since I first started blogging for Reflections in Hindsight. I began awhile ago upon seeing an admonition from our very own Lisa Lickel via the ACFW Midwest loop for anyone interested in contributing to this blog. I answered her call and offered to contribute, and soon I was posting once every other week.

Not long after that, I began posting every week when the gentleman I was co-posting with had to step back from the blog, so Thursdays became “my day” at Reflections. It worked well for a long time. I could probably go back and tell you exactly how long it’s been, but I haven’t any desire to try to figure out how to do that on my iPad via the WordPress App and risk losing an entire post (it’s happened before) in the process.

I’ve shared on a great many subjects during my time here, some of which still attract readers even though the posts have been live for months. Some of my top posts include my thoughts on witchcraft in YA books (above and beyond the level of Harry Potter, which I think is mostly harmless), a fun post entitled “WWJBD? What Would James Bond Do?“, and my personal favorite, An Obituary for Harold, a squirrel to whom I paid tribute a few days after I ran him over with my car.

All in all, it’s been a great run, but as I said in a previous post about how much I hate blogging, I just don’t have the time, energy, or the drive to continue to write anymore. Part of it stems from the fact that I don’t enjoy reading blogs very much, and I hate the idea that I have to blog in order to be a “successful” author as far as my books go. If I hate blogging, why am I doing it?

I apologize for my negative outlook on this subject. As this is my last post at Reflections, I want to leave on a positive note, something I have done for basically everything I’ve posted. I’m that type of person: the optimist who sees the glass as half full—usually.

So here’s my positive spin on all of this: in not blogging at Reflections, I will have more time to write books, work on Splickety Magazine (which you can buy here), and be a good father to my son (or possibly daughter), who we’re expecting to be born within the next few weeks. Posting at Reflections has been an obligation that I worried about fulfilling every week, and now I won’t have to worry anymore.

Thank you all for reading my posts throughout the last year or so. You’ve walked along with me on this journey, through the good times and the bad, through the well-planned posts and the not so well-planned posts. I am forever indebted to you for your support.

As I sign off for the last time as a regular contributor (that’s right, you may see me again at some point, it’s just that I won’t be the one driving the carriage) I have to make three final requests of you.

1. Please continue to read Reflections authors’ posts. As you well know, I’m not the only one here at this site. Never was. Please continue to support this site, and tell your friends about it. I owe so much to Lisa and the other contributors for what they’ve taught me, so please check them out often, if not every day.

2. Keep reading on Thursdays. My replacement is the very able, intelligent, creative Luther D. Powell, a young man with a bright future ahead of him. You can check him out on our author page soon. He will continue to bring the heat through his posts, a heat that has cooled in my recent posts. Give him more than a fair shot—I think you’ll be impressed.

3. Finally, keep your eyes open. I’ll be around. I’m at conferences, I’m not leaving Splickety Magazine any time soon (just started it—duh), and I’ll eventually have a book or 19 published that you all can and should read, and then buy more copies for your friends and family. When that day comes, I’ll appear on Reflections again, probably for an interview. Until then, support Splickety, and if you see me wandering the halls at some conference you happen to be attending, come up and say hello. I’m okay with faces but horrible with names, so please pardon me if you have to remind me who you are.

With that, thank-you again, and God bless you all.

-Ben

This is me preparing for my undoubtedly bright future.