Peering Through Life's Window

Several years ago the youngsters at our church wore bracelets that read “What Would Jesus do?” They were to remind them of Jesus’ teachings, when they went to school, sports arenas or their friends’ homes. For instance, if one of the young men found himself in a situation where he grew angry and wanted to punch someone in the nose, the bracelet reminded him that Christians should be “…quick to listen, slow to speak and slow to become angry, for man’s anger does not bring about the righteous life that God desires.” (James 1: 19 - 20). Perhaps one of the young ladies heard gossip about a friend. The bracelet would make her think of Scripture from James 1:26: “If anyone considers himself religious and yet does not keep a tight rein on his tongue, he deceives himself and his religion is worthless.” It’s possible that either of them could easily have fallen prey to an argumentative student at school, but before the young man or young lady joined a disagreement he or she would look at the br...

DANIELLE THORNE WRITES BOOKS WITH SWEET ROMANCE AND ADVENTURE First, tell us a little about yourself. Hi Gail! Thank you so much for having me today. A little snippet? I’m an author of historical and romantic fiction. Writing from south of Atlanta, I’m also a full time mom to four boys, and wife to a devoted air traffic controller. My life is very suburban, but we all relish travel, the arts, and outdoors. In three words describe your style of writing. Sweet Romantic Adventure! What themes do you write about? Besides overcoming personal demons, I strive to incorporate unique settings that make the reader want to visit there. I am also a bit of a tree hugger, so working environmental encouragement into my themes is a challenge I like toying with. I care about people, and the planet. I guess you could say I try to share the love. What is your writing schedule and where do you write? I work 4 to 6 hours a day while my children are at school. Usually when I’m in the midst of a manuscript ...

I sat in my husband’s Avalon on the I-75 South exit ramp and Highway forty-one in Georgia. The man outside forty feet to the left of me put his black duffle bag and backpack on the snow-covered grass. He got out a cardboard sign that looked as though it had been made from the end of a box. When he held it up, I couldn’t see enough of it to tell if it read, “Will work for food,” “Please help,” or “Need a ride.” He wore a pair of blue jeans, tennis shoes, a beige jacket and a matching cap with ear flaps. I doubted he would be able to stand the frigid, twenty-six-degree temperature for long. But a woman in a sporty, red car stopped in traffic beside him rolled down her window and motioned for him. He hurried to her, leaned down, commenced to point and give directions! And no, she never put her hand out the window to give him anything! Just out of curiosity I Googled “The Golden Rule” to see if it still existed. Yep, it’s still around, and the meaning given was basically the same as I had ...

Having renounced killing people in mystery novels for a while, I am excited to announce my first venture into women’s general fiction. HOLD UP THE SKY (Isbn 978-0451-22914-4 - $15.00) is the story of four strong women in Georgia who face individual crises during a summer of dreadful drought, and discover that true strength comes not from independence, but from interdependence. It tells the story of Billie Waits, a single mom with a disabled child whose support comes from her estranged husband’s checks and the sale of peaches from a small orchard; as the book begins, Porter’s checks stop coming and her peaches freeze. Meanwhile her sister Margaret, an affluent housewife who lives happily in Marietta with her husband, Ben, and two delightful sons, is startled when Ben announces at breakfast that he wants a divorce and is moving out; her son Jason vandalizes a new commercial building and tells the juvenile judge he wants to live with his dad; and Ben informs Margaret they will need to sel...

Today, I’m all bundled up with a snuggly housecoat wrapped around me. I have on my red polka dot knee socks with a pair of red, fuzzy bedroom shoes. Still, it’s so frigid I think the heater is broken, until I hear the clicking noise it makes just before it comes on. Ahh, the warm air drifts into the room, and it’s comfortable. It’s my birthday, and my daughter gives me a pretty tee-shirt. The bright colors and sparkling tiny beads that look like chipped crystal on it lift my spirits. I try it on -- a perfect fit. Outside snow and ice cover the deck. Brrrrr, even though I can’t wait to wear my gift, I need to put on a heavy sweater. I lay the piece of clothing aside and dress warmly. Later, after my daughter leaves I get out the shirt. Considering the weather conditions, I probably need to put it away with my summer clothes until spring. No, I look at it again. I will hang it in my closet where I can see it. Every time I look at it, it will remind me that spring is coming. It will be a ...

Some say that Christ wasn’t born on December 25th. They claim that Christians took the date from a Roman holiday honoring the sun or a sun god. While modern historians disagree about this theory many agree that the Romans revered the sun. According to my Britannica Encyclopedia, Christians took the date to rival the pagan feasts that took place during the Winter Solstice, which honored a new age brought by the sun. Depending on location, the Winter Solstice occurs on or around December 25th. Even though it lasts only an instant in time, many cultures have held festivals marking it as midwinter. According to some, Christmas simply grew to be one of the most popular events. Nonetheless, every year by the time we’ve celebrated Thanksgiving festive decorations acknowledging the birth of Christ appear in overwhelming numbers across the American landscape. A majority of homes have wreaths on their doors, candles in their windows, lights in the yards and red bows on their mailboxes. The ...

Clear water bubbled from the fountain and shot heavenward like liquid crystals; then, spilled into the blue pool. Strolling up to it from a sea of cars in the parking lot was like trudging through a dark, dense thicket in the forest and emerging on the other side into a bright, sunny day. The presence of water spurting triggered thankfulness for prayers answered and delight renewed. Until several years ago I’d taken the fountain for granted. In the summers I had relaxed with my family on the patio of a restaurant at the mall that overlooked the dancing water in a city in Georgia. Even shoppers walking past it and diners chatting near me hadn’t drowned out its sweet babbling / splashing sounds that had sent soothing vibrations into the busy day. Erupting from the cement, sparkling underneath the sun, it had brought nature to life amid the asphalt and concrete buildings, until the drought. Since the dry spell had lasted for a couple of long years the fountain had sat quiet. Each time I h...