Whistling Dixie

I thought a few of you might enjoy seeing the newest illustrations for Whistling Dixie.

Stilts the Stork

Stilts the Stork has just landed and is ready to fly to your house. ;-) I am very excited about my newest children's book. K.C. Snider outdid herself with the colorful illustrations. Her creations have made Stilts a regular member of our family.

I've posted the book trailer for Stilts. Hope you enjoy it.

Writing for the wee ones in my life,
Dixie

Grandbabies

Yesterday Paul and I were able to enjoy an afternoon with our little grandboyzz, Tristan and Easton. They are growing up sooo fast and learning something new every day.

We have two new grandbabies that will be joining our family this year. Zach and Beka's little "Livia" Fox is due May 1st and Wil and Rachel are expecting a baby in September. Let the good times roll. ;-)

Paul and I pray for our grandbabies that they will be men and women of God and bring JESUS to their generation.

We're loving this stage of our lives...

Drum roll please.....

Ta da................

My newest children's book, Stilts the Stork, will be released this month. I dedicated it to my Auntie Lo because she can walk on "stilts" better than anyone else I know. =-)

Reach for the Scars....

Do you remember as a child how many times someone encouraged you to REACH FOR THE STARS? You could be anything you wanted to be! Dream big! I remember when my mother-in-law came to Iowa from Arkansas for a visit, she was smitten with our baby girl Libby. My m-i-l wasn't one to dish out compliments, but she would often tell Libby that she was going to be the next President of the United States. ;-) Her words encouraged our daughter to dream and be all that God intended her to be.

I don't know why but today I reflected back over my life. In my mind I took a long stroll down the road I owned as a child.... I thought of those stars I reached for in my youth.... most were filled with selfish ambitions and greed. Ways to promote myself and my dreams........ but then Jesus passed by and I felt the Call to His service. He gave me different dreams...... Suddenly I wasn't reaching for worldly stars, but I was reaching for the scars...... His nail-scarred hands....... I remembered the timeless hymns I heard my grandmother singing in the middle of the night...

Lord, lay some soul upon my heart and love that soul through me....

Make me a blessing..... Out of my life may Jesus shine......

Let the beauty of Jesus be seen in me.....

Jesus, use me.... and oh Lord, don't refuse me.....

Somehow as I reached for His nail-scarred hands, I found they were reaching for me. He was battered and scarred so my heart could be mended and whole.

I believe God has an Army of precious souls that are reaching for the SCARS.... Hidden saints that make a difference in this world and only when we get to the OTHER SIDE will we know what their sacrifice meant.

I've reached a place in my life where I have more years behind me than ahead of me and I pray that with the years I have left, I will reach for the SCARS and make a difference in my corner of the world.

I'll close with another song my grandmother used to sing.


If I can help somebody, as I pass along,
If I can cheer somebody, with a word or song,
If I can show somebody, how they're travelling wrong,
Then my living shall not be in vain.

Chorus:
My living shall not be in vain,
Then my living shall not be in vain
If I can help somebody, as I pass along,
Then my living shall not be in vain.

If I can do my duty, as a good man ought,
If I can bring back beauty, to a world up wrought,
If I can spread love's message, as the Master taught,
Then my living shall not be in vain.

His Father's Eyes

Here is a Christmas story I've written and thought you might enjoy.

Swallowing hard, Samuel never took his eyes off of the faded photograph of his mother. “Mama, why did you have to go away? I miss you.”

The dingy walls of the orphanage, combined with the musky smell, sent a wave of nausea sweeping over him. His eyes clouded from deep blue to somber gray. Quick footsteps interrupted his tormenting thoughts.

“The Christmas Eve service is in the chapel in ten minutes.” Christopher stuck his head in the door and grinned. “All of us orphans get a bag of candy after the service. Come on! Let’s go!”

Samuel chewed on his bottom lip for a moment. “I’ll be coming in a second.”

Christopher slipped through the door and hollered over his shoulder, “Sam, you better get moving or somebody else is going to get your bag of candy.”

Samuel moseyed to the chapel and sat down just in time to hear the minister recite Matthew’s account of the Christmas story.
“Now the birth of Jesus Christ was on this wise: When as his mother Mary was espoused to Joseph, before they came together, she was found with child of the Holy Ghost. Then Joseph her husband, being a just man, and not willing to make her a public example, was minded to put her away privily.” Matthew 1:18-19 KJV

Samuel couldn’t believe what he was hearing. His heart pounded so loud, he was sure everyone could hear it. He resisted the urge to groan and pressed his leg against the pew in front of him so he wouldn’t drop to the floor in sobs. I must speak to the pastor immediately after the service. Mary and Mama have a lot in common. I just never saw it before.

When the service ended, Samuel marched toward the minister. “Pastor Dan, my mama was kind of like Mary. She wasn’t married when she was expecting me. But my dad wasn’t like Joseph, he deserted us and left us to fend for ourselves.”

The pastor patted the young lad’s shoulder. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

“I never met my father. I don’t have a clue who he is or where to look for him.” Samuel’s lip quivered. He exhaled slowly and a frown crossed his brow. “I’ve heard the women whispering when I walk by. They’re always trying to figure out who my father is.”

The pastor’s tone was soft. “People can be cruel.”

“Sometimes when I look in the mirror, I wonder if I resemble him, but I guess I’ll never know.” Samuel’s jaw stiffened.

The young boy’s words spoke straight to the heart of the pastor. “When I look into your eyes, I see your Father – your heavenly Father. You have His eyes.”
S
amuel lifted a skeptical brow. “Really?”

“Yes, sir! No doubt about it. You’re a child of God.” Pastor Dan cupped the young man’s face in his hands. “You have your Father’s eyes.”

Samuel wondered if his heart might burst within his chest. He shook his head. “Wow!”

“Remember what we read tonight? God made a promise to Mary and He kept it.” Ambling over to the nativity, the pastor plucked the Baby Jesus from the manger and tucked Him in Samuel’s arms. “He promises to adopt us as one of His own children if we believe in His Son.”

“You mean I’m part of a family?” Samuel gave a brilliant smile.

“That’s exactly what I mean.” The pastor tousled the young boy’s hair. “God will be the Father you’ve always wanted and that’s an eternal promise!”

Samuel squeezed Baby Jesus and choked, “I believe.”

“Sam!” Christopher called, walking toward him clutching two brown paper sacks. “Here’s your bag of candy. I grabbed one for you before they ran out.”

“I think I’ll give mine to Titus. He didn’t get to come tonight because he was sick.”

“Are you sure?” Chris shot back.

“Yep.” Samuel’s head bobbed. “I think that’s what my Father would want me to do.”

“Like I said.” Pastor Dan winked at Samuel. “You have your Father’s eyes.”

Hidden Heroes

A few weeks ago there was an ice storm in our neck of the woods. A precious elderly woman (Arlene is in the white sweatshirt in the above picture. My mother Bonnie is beside her.) from our church had a car accident and suffered a compressed fracture in her lower spine. She was placed in a nursing home where she could receive some physical rehabilitation.

Today my mom and I took a road trip to the nursing home to check on Arlene. We were blessed by her grateful attitude. She shared about a new friend Lucille, who was a retired missionary nurse, and wanted us to meet her. We traipsed down the hall and found Lucille.

Words are inadequate for describing this ninety-year-old seasoned saint. We felt like we were sitting in the room of some Bible character. She radiated authenticity and humility.

As we left, we were once again reminded that God has His hidden heroes everywhere - even in nursing homes. Somehow we knew that God had another missionary journey for dear Lucille.... No longer in the jungles of Nigeria, but the halls of a nursing home. And she was finishing strong for Jesus - blooming where she was planted and making a difference for the Kingdom of God.