Ruth Ellinger

WOMEN OF THE SECRET PLACE...

2012-01-30T13:35:00.001-08:00

With the release o:f WOMEN OF THE SECRET PLACE, a collection of inspirational stories and personal moments with God, we hosted a book party for those local authors who contributed to this collection. We had a great time and chatted about writery things and the many ways we feel inspired to tell our stories.

Pasted on the book cover are the following: top, R. Mitchell Scott (Ronni), left to right, Cheryl Johnston, Debora M. Coty, Sandi de Laski, Bette Lafferty, Susan Lewis, (myself in the middle) Marcy Lytle, Sharron Cosby, and Kat Heckenbach.

I will be posting excerpts of this collection from time to time on this blog so readers can grasp the heartbeat of the book. You may order copies from the link listed below or order directly from me. Just email me with your request and we’ll get a copy to you ASAP.

AMAZON

http://www.amazon.com/Women-Secret-Place-collection-inspirational/dp/1620200015/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1327699525&sr=8-1

Women's Devotional and Inspirational Stories

2012-01-07T19:02:00.000-08:00

It’s almost here! To be released 1/24/12. Watch for details.

Women of the Secret Place

By Ruth Carmichael Ellinger

And others…

A collection of inspirational stories

and personal moments with God

It is in the moments…those significant, never

forgotten moments… that we truly live. And

it is in the quiet times in our secret place with

God that we understand…we can go on.

Forward

He that dwelleth in the secret place of the most high

shall abide under the shadow of the Almighty.

Psalm 91:1

There is a place, a secret place where women find refuge from

the daily stresses of life, those besetting troubles that often leave

us perplexed and wondering, “Why, Lord?” Women who resort

to the quiet sanctuary of the “secret place” find the strength to

move forward, to meet the challenges of the day with courage

and confidence. We understand that this place belongs to God

alone. He beckons us to come closer to Him, to find all that we

need, all that is truly important, all that is meaningful to our

happiness in life.

In this private and secluded place, we discover the value in

our experiences—good and bad. We see things as they really are:

not disguised, neither distorted by our human reasoning. When

the veil is lifted during our visits to this solitary place, we see

Him more clearly—a God of love and compassion who shows

us ourselves. It is in those moments alone with God that we see

Him as He is: merciful, ready to forgive, an amazing Deliverer

sharing our daily life.

The stories, devotional excerpts, and personal experiences on

the following pages are the reflections of my own experiences

and those of other women who abide under the shadow of the

Almighty, who wish to share what they have learned in the beautiful

sanctuary of the Most High. Some stories will make you

laugh, some may touch a chord of sadness and compassion, and

still others will spark a searching, a desire to discover your own

secret place with God. This is our prayer.

~Ruth Carmichael Ellinger

Gifts of the heart...

2012-01-02T13:42:00.001-08:00

Gifts of the Heart…

Musing before the fire Saturday morning, I placed the Christmas gifts from my family on the tea table to take a photo. Looking at the collection, I noted that each gift had been carefully chosen by the giver. Time and thought had gone into each purchase or each hand-crafted item created just for me by loving hands. Each giver had spent not only their money, but also their time, a precious gift in itself.

My heart was warmed to know that to someone else, I was important; I was loved enough to occupy their thoughts, to wander into some moments of their day. I feel so blessed to have family; friends that care about me and what may bring happiness to me. “Do unto others” and “love one another as I have loved you” was spoken by Jesus so long ago, but so evident in a giving spirit. I received far more than tangible gifts this year.

Have I ever mentioned that I love shoes?

Winter potpourri from Katherine, Brighten hair comb from Kendy, beautiful porcelain roses from James, purchased in Sweden, and perfume from my husband. I feel so rich.

Did I ever mention that I love shoes? Well...I do. I saw this pair and fell instantly in love. My sweet husband bought them for me for Christmas...and because he loves me. The comb is from our daughter, Kendy and crafted by Brighten. I am blessed from head to foot!

Among our favorite home made gifts is "pear Jam," especially made by daughter, Katherine and sent to us with winter potpourri which she gathers from the woods in Idaho where she and her family live. It is lovely and smells so wonderful! The jam is marvelous on toast.

My husband makes the coziest fires. A cold snap is expected tonight and we are ready. Even though we live in FL, it can still get very cool in winter, even down to freezing, but mostly, we enjoy the most perfect weather in winter.

New winter boots and my custom made tartan apron

My son, James, who travels widely and knows I love tartan, had this apron made for me. It is reversible and is nice and long. While preparing Thanksgiving dinner, I hastily pinned a tea towel over me while making gravy. He just shook his head and smiled. Hence -- a new apron. I should have done that long ago!

New Year's Eve

2011-12-30T17:41:00.000-08:00

Another year…and I am still here!

In my home…a cup of tea, sweetened with honey, a book to read…perhaps to write, and a warm hand tucked in mine. These things delight me; make my home a refuge from all that would trouble me. Beneath this roof, I find a place of beauty and comfort, things that I love, that offer constant joy and inspiration. Over the years, I have carefully created an ambiance that inspires my soul, that gives and gives, over and over—happiness with no attachments.

At my birth, home was the Midwest, valleys and hills, creeks and streams, farmland and village. The soil dried between my toes and never quite washed away, so I am part of it, still. Yet, I have known other homes, other climes, places of majestic mountain peaks and blooming deserts. I have known the sun in its strength and the winter snows with icicles that reached to the ground. In every place, I made my home.

Coming from a legacy of Scottish ancestors, I am endowed with the blood of that race, traits that run deep that form character, personality, likes and dislikes, things in nature that are infused genetically and were nurtured and fostered by family. From my grandparents, came a love of the land, and generations before, a love of freedom, both physical and spiritual. The things I leaned from my parents and grandparents are invaluable and a part of who I am.

As a writer, I strive to be true to my self, to my readers, to all who know me, and most of all, true to God. As a pastor’s wife, I seek balance and wisdom to be a blessing and help to God’s flock, to my sheep. To my husband, I am wife, soul mate, his only love and he…mine.

Although the farm in the Midwest will always be near and dear to my heart, where I now live is the heart-warmth of home this day. As the new year unfolds before me, I will move forward with the times, trusting in God to go before me, to order my steps, to guide me through another year.

With another new year, I will accept the challenges it brings, but I will never forget the past, the things that made me who I am. When I piece together the fragments of my ancestors lives, lived so long ago in a country that rumbles beneath my feet as though calling to a wandering child, I see myself in the people, I understand their struggles, believe in their dreams and know that once, I belonged to them and they are part of me…still…still.

CHRISTMAS JOY AT OUR HOUSE...

2011-12-28T12:58:00.001-08:00

All God's children gatta place in the choir!
From my collection of, "All God's Children"

"And so it was, that, while they were there, the days were accomplished that she should be delivered. And she brought forth her firstborn son, and wrapped him in swaddling clothes, and laid him in a manger; because there was no room for them in the inn."

Praise be to God for our new camera
Cannon's Rebel T 3

Around the house, the colors of Christmas in a bowl of vintage ornaments

"And suddenly there was with the angel a multitude of the heavenly host praising God, and saying, Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace, good will toward men." Like 2:13

Let it snow, let it snow, let it snow!!!!

I'm dreaming of a "Highland Christmas..."

Marmalade, the cat, gets a new hat for Christmas.
She is so easy to care for!

Thanks be to God for His unspeakable gift!

2 Corinthians 9:1

Many years ago, my husband hand crafted this set for our children. I took it down from the shelf this year and put the little people in their accustomed place. The figures were made from clothespins, and were dressed for the occasion. This crude little crèche brought back so many fond memories. When my son saw the cherished old set, he claimed it for himself. I have so many "claim tags" on the things around the house!

Angel dust falling on us...from that great multitude of angels that sang so long ago;

"Glory to God in the highest and Peace on earth, goodwill to men!"

MERRY CHRISTMAS AND HAPPY NEW YEAR!

2011-12-24T12:19:00.000-08:00

THANKS BE TO GOD FOR HIS UNSPEAKABLE GIFT...JESUS

One Snowy Christmas Eve…

2011-12-07T18:57:00.001-08:00

The best 99¢ you’ll ever spend!

http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/109245

One Snowy Christmas Eve…

A Much- loved Christmas story

About this Story

One Snowy Christmas Eve was first published as Challenge at Christmas Time, then as a children’s picture book, Christmas Comes to Ernie, and now as a version for “all ages,” children to grandparents, a story the entire family can enjoy.

One Snowy Christmas Eve is an unforgettable and endearing story for all who love Christmas and the message of John 3:16. Written by award-winning author, Ruth Carmichael Ellinger, this inspirational story is now available as an e-book download to your latest techy device.

DESCRIPTION:

One Snowy Christmas Eve... is the endearing true story of an aging artist, bitter with life and the family he once loved. The vinegary old man and his dog, Rudy, live in a small Canadian village nestled in the heart of British Columbia. Who can change such a bitter, broken heart? The answer comes when Bernie faces himself and his past during a children’s Christmas pageant.

This bittersweet and stirring story is for all ages, for all who believe in the miraculous birth of Jesus Christ, God’s gift to the world. If you are looking for spiritual significance during this highly commercialized holiday season and want your family to understand the “true” meaning of Christmas, then this story is for you. What makes the beautifully written narrative so special is that it really happened, not so very long ago on a snowy Christmas Eve.

FROM THE AUTHOR

Some stories are written from a vivid imagination and woven like threads in a tapestry to form a tale alive with color and contrast; some are mere ideas, methodically and carefully framed and put into words. Still others are the true experiences of life lived, of stories more wonderful than fiction could ever produce. This is one of those stories. And God, who is the Master Author, holds the pen.

Ruth Carmichael Ellinger

ISBN: 978-1-4657-9693-6

To purchase, click on link below

ONE SNOWY CHRISTMAS EVE

http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/109245

MERRY CHRISTMAS!!

WINTER PLEASURES IN THE SHEEPFOLD -- BLUE AND WHITE

2011-11-29T16:49:00.000-08:00

"BLUE WILLOW"

My earliest recollections of enjoying dishes for the sheer pleasure of their beauty and creative appeal was as a child, I watched my mother organize and display her blue and white dishware. She collected what she could afford of any dishware in shades of blue and white. Now…when I visit the farm, I see blue and white in the homes of my sisters, a reflection of those bygone blue winters. Mary has the “Lochs of Scotland” handed down from my mother and in Laura’s farm kitchen, platters of Flow Blue and white adorn the walls. My personal favorite pattern is, “Late Snow at Riverwood by Bob Timberlake

LATE SNOW AT RIVERWOOD BY BOB TIMBERLAKE

WINTER BLUE IN THE HUTCH

CURRIER & IVES

LATE SNOW AT RIVERWOOD

A FAVORITE TEAPOT

Holiday preparations...

2011-11-28T15:20:00.001-08:00

Wherever you live in the world so wide,

We wish you a nook on the sunny side,
With much love and little care,
A little purse with money to spare,
Your own little hearth when day is spent,
In a little house with hearts content.

A favorite time of year...a time of beauty and reflection. With the month of December comes many wonderful times and many memories of good times and winter love.

THANKSGIVING DAY FUN!

2011-11-25T14:51:00.000-08:00

Son, James, and granddaughters, Andria, Audry, and Alicia

We celebrate Thanksgiving in the traditional way with a few Scottish customs thrown in for good measure. Although we realize that the weapons of our warfare are not carnal, we celebrate victory over our enemies in the spiritual warfare for truth and right. The recipe below is a reminder of our many battles and many victories won with the help of our Lord.
A multitude of thanksgivings to God.

Scottish Warrior Apple Custard Pie

Ingredients:

Crust

½ tsp salt

¾-cup all-purpose flour

¾-cup whole-wheat flour

½-cup cold unsalted butter

Filling

1 large egg

1 cup evaporated milk

1 tsp ground cinnamon mixed with ¼-cup sugar

1/2 cup sugar

3 cups sliced and peeled granny smith apples

Directions:

Pre-heat oven to 375 degrees

In a bowl, sir the flours and salt, then cut in the butter until coarse crumbs show. Press on the bottom and up the sides of a nine-inch pie pan. Arrange apples over the crust. In another bowl, stir 1/4 cup sugar and the cinnamon. Sprinkle over the apples. Bake in the oven for about 20 minutes.

Meanwhile, whisk the evaporated milk, egg, and 1/2 cup sugar until smooth. Then pour over the apples. Bake for 30 minutes. Cool on a wire rack for 1 hour. Refrigerate for at least 3 hours.

Cut with a sword and enjoy like a warrior!!!

For the weapons of our warfare are not carnal, but mighty through God to the pulling down of strong holds; 2Co 10:4

No weapon that is formed against thee shall prosper; and every tongue that shall rise against thee in judgment thou shalt condemn. This is the heritage of the servants of the LORD, and their righteousness is of me, saith the LORD. Isa 54:17

Thanksgiving...

2011-11-19T08:32:00.000-08:00

A Time To Be Thankful

THANKSGIVING

Throughout the United States and Canada, Thanksgiving Day is an annual legal holiday. It is one of the oldest and most widespread of celebrations. This American holiday commemorates the harvest celebration held by the Pilgrims of the Plymouth Society in 1621. The Pilgrims had come ashore from the Mayflower on Dec. 21, 1620. During the first hard winter, only about half of the original group had survived. Despite such heartbreaking losses, the harvest was very bountiful. The Indians had supplied them with corn seeds and there was corn in abundance as well as barley and plenty of meat, fish, and fowl.

The pilgrims set aside a day of thanksgiving to God for this wonderful harvest. They invited their Indian friends and ninety Indians and their chief, Massasoit, responded to the invitation. They brought five deer to the feast and celebrated with the Pilgrims as they gave thanks to God. The pilgrims often set aside days of thanksgiving whenever they wished to praise and thank God for His blessings and help but this harvest day feast soon became an annual day of thanksgiving. The actual dates varied according to the end of the harvest season but it was soon an established annual event.

Although Thanksgiving was widely celebrated as an annual celebration during the following years, it did not become a national holiday until Oct, 3, 1863 when President Abraham Lincoln declared it a national holiday. This was during the great Civil War when our nation's very foundations were being shaken. All seemed dark and bleak to President Lincoln but he realized more than ever the need to be thankful. How fitting it is that we should give thanks to God during the time of battle as well as in the time of victory.

To the Christian, every day is "thanksgiving." If we waited until our designated holiday to praise God for His blessings, we would consider ourselves most ungrateful. However, we are glad for the true celebration of Thanksgiving Day as a national holiday. It reminds us all of our nations humble beginning and how God has blessed and preserved our land. We must never take this for granted or feel that somehow by our own strength or merit we have made America the greatest nation on the face of the earth. If God had not been our Helper, then our history as a nation would have been quite different. It is God who has blessed, God who has prospered, and God who has kept us to this present hour.

Words from the Shepherdess...

2011-11-14T16:26:00.000-08:00

My antique rose lamp above the table in our cottage

Anything with roses is pure delight!

What is so lovely as a lamp with light streaming through the darkness to show us the way?
The soft glow of lamplight is one of my favorite things. Therefore, I love lamps. I love to see light streaming softly from a window when I walk up to a home. The light speaks of warmth and friendship, a place where I want to visit. With light, there is welcome and love waiting inside.

The shepherdess loves the light and brings the sheep to the welcoming warmth of the sheepfold. Jesus said, “I am the light of the world.” How lovely is that?

Rearranged…

2011-11-08T17:15:00.001-08:00

Rearranged…

What if God rearranges our lives? What if life as we know it now is suddenly turned upside down, turned around and we find ourselves traveling in another direction altogether? I cannot help thinking of my own grandmother, Elizabeth, whose life took a sudden and drastic turn in the road. Her first response was—where are you, God? What are you doing? Where am I going?

My own life has been that way, too. Looking back, I understand that God had a better idea, a plan that was far superior to my paltry attempt to direct my own path. Every bend in the road was for my good.

Thank you , Lord, for ordering my steps…even when I can’t see where I’m going. Still, I feel your hand in mine.

Cover art for “The Wild Rose of Lancaster” book #1 in the Wildrose series.

From the deck at Wildrose cottage...

2011-10-26T20:17:00.001-07:00

View from deck at Wildrose Cottage, looking north

Looking east from the deck at Wildrose cottage

SEASONS OF MY LIFE

I cannot return to spring again

To plant when sowing days are gone,

Nor till the still soft earth of spring

When summer suns have come and gone.

Lord, help me know my times on earth

To work the plan Your hand does show,

Oh, let me bring at harvest time

A life made whiter than the snow.

©ruthellinger2000

Ten things about me...

2011-10-24T15:31:00.000-07:00

My readers ask about me so here you go...

Ten “Off the Record” facts about myself

1. I don’t Twitter, tweet, or talk on Facebook or other social network sites but I DO answer email from my readers and those who contact me through my website and blog.

2. I don’t watch TV and consider it a waste of valuable time not to mention the moral content is pretty near zero. I do listen to good music and check in on current news and world affairs daily to make sure we’re still okay.

3. I love to write, to be home in the evenings, and nearly always cook dinner. I enjoy going to Panera Bread for lunch.

4. I love my grandchildren, a fire in the fireplace, getting into the spa before bed and listening to audio books until I fall asleep. I value routine when I’m home.

5. I love my cottage up north, love to travel and explore new places. I might have been an explorer had I lived in another age. I am passionate about preserving our American heritage, historic sites, and the US Constitution. I am a member of the Daughter of the American Revolution and feel the rumble of my patriot ancestors in my blood.

6. I love antiquing with anyone who will go with me and love perusing thrift shops for treasures someone else has thrown away and am an avid believer in aggressive rescue efforts for these lost treasures.

7. I love mountains, misty mornings, ocean waves, sunsets, autumn and Christmas time. I love back-roads, bends in the road, brick roads, and country roads. I love driving around and looking at other people’s houses and landscapes.

8. I don’t like sitting at the computer but do so out of necessity. I know I am there too much when my husband leaves notes on the keyboard. I don’t like fast food except MacRib, shopping for groceries or putting them away, unloading the dishwasher or folding clothes. I don’t have a maid but wish for a cook, housecleaner, and servants and gardeners and a chauffeur.

9. I love herb gardens and flowers and am glad my husband does so I don’t have to care for the plants. I can preserve and can food, sew my own clothes, doll clothes, curtains, create and make many useful things, but I choose not to because my family is grown and I find more enjoyable things to do with my time. In earlier years, I managed a myriad of household tasks and was all things to my family. Now I do not stress over such matters. I find new things to stress about.

10. Among my fetishes are antiques, vintage linens, lamps, candles, pictures that tell a story, roses on anything, period novels, lace, feminine clothing, and dishes of all kinds. I love tea and tea things, quaint cottages and towns, porches, and all things Scottish. Most of all…I love Jesus, my Savior, and the knowledge that He knows all this about me and loves me anyway.

Autumn…on the Ohio farm

2011-10-20T17:55:00.000-07:00

SEASONS OF LIFE...

I love every season of the year, but I love autumn best. This photo was taken last week on the farm where I grew up, where I experienced life and love and the ties that bind, a place where happy and sad moments are forever etched in my memory. I choose to remember the happy times when autumn arrives with the acrid smells of a smoke-filled hazy days, of drying maple leaves, harvested corn piled high on the wagon, juicy Macintosh apples and golden pears, and always…the familiar and unique aromas of the farm in autumn. I return each season to the place I still call home.

THE RED-BRICK FARM HOUSE

THE BARN AND POND IN THE DISTANCE

My sister lives on the farm with her husband and each year, they sell pumpkins and garden produce which they pile on an antique farm wagon near the road. Customers place money for their purchase in an “honor jar.”

PUMPKINS FOR SALE

By the bend in the road and in the distance, you can see the farm pond and a small cabin made of cherry logs which my father built and spent many happy hours wood-working

LAURA'S HAPPY CHICKENS AND DELICIOUS FARM EGGS

CLOSING WILDROSE COTTAGE FOR THE SEASON
( I am sad )

2011-10-10T15:34:00.000-07:00

The Writer...The Reader

2011-10-06T07:09:00.000-07:00

It's that time of year again and my Co-Director and I are planning a wonderful writing workshop and retreat. It is situated on the beautiful Alafai River surrounded by majestic oaks and Cedar trees. Writers are coming from all over and once again, we will learn. Posted this time are a few thoughts on writing.

Something to Remember…

There is no greater work in this life, no greater duty as Christian writers than to help others in their journey. Among the many talents God has given, writers possess the ability to create from an expansive vocabulary of words, excerpts from their life experiences. Writers possess the creative skill to impart the wisdom they have learned, to help others keep up their courage, to laugh and cry, to empathize, to proclaim with the written word that God is the answer to the problems of life. Ruth Carmichael Ellinger

What do you know? Write about it. Don’t write about what someone else knows. Write about what you know in your own unique voice and style. Then, put into practice the 3 P’s in this order.

Prepare your manuscript

Polish your manuscript

Pitch your manuscript

A Writer’s Prayer

Oh, Lord, make me respect my mind so much that I dare not write what has neither meaning nor moral. Let my time be valuable enough to spend it wisely. Help me choose with equal care, my friends, my books, and those things my eyes should see, because all influence my life. Show me that, as in a river, the depths hold more of strength and beauty than do the shallows. Keep me from caring more for much writing, than for careful writing, for books more than “the Book.” Give me an ideal that will let me write only the best, and when that is done— stop me. Repay me with power to teach others. Then help me to say from a disciplined mind a grateful…Amen.

Ruth Carmichael Ellinger2011

Thankfulness...

2011-09-30T15:49:00.000-07:00

This picture is the first framed art my husband and I purchased when we were newlyweds. We wanted to furnish our home with meaningful art. Money was tight and our purchases must have some significance. This painting seemed appropriate to start out our life – with thankfulness. The Bible tells us to be thankful in every circumstance, even the negative ones. That may be hard to do at times, but even in difficult times, there is always something to be thankful for, something beneficial to us down the road.

Today I was shopping in a retail fabric store that stocks craft supplies and home decor. I wanted some new for Thanksgiving things and didn’t want to wait until everything was gone. I found an aisle for each upcoming holiday; Halloween, Welcome Autumn, Happy Harvest, and Christmas, but no Thanksgiving items. Walking through the displays, I couldn’t find a single item—no pilgrims, no turkeys, nothing in reference to our great American day of Thanksgiving. My heart felt heavy…sad.

Could this really be happening? I spoke to a clerk who told me that “Happy Harvest” was far more “graceful.” I just stared at her in disbelief. Graceful? I assume she meant inoffensive. How very sad that some are becoming offended at the thought of “thankfulness” and celebrating our national holiday with gratitude and gratefulness for all God has given us. I am quite offended at that. I will not shop there again.

In 1918 in the town of Bovey, Minnesota Eric Enstorm took a photo of Charles Wilden sitting at a small table in prayer. As soon as the negative was developed, Enstrom was sure he had something special... a picture that seemed to say, This man doesn't have much of earthly goods, but he has more than most people because he has a thankful heart. Today Enstrom's picture GRACE, is known and loved throughout the world.

The Beyond Place...

2011-09-27T16:41:00.000-07:00

For some time now, I had watched the old ewe sheep wander closer to the border of the sheepfold, casting her brown eyes on the pasture beyond our highland enclosure. The years had come and gone, and al the lambs she had raised were grown, a long time now. For the most part, she grazed alone. Now and then, I would bring her in from the farthest part of the field, noting the thinning wool, the slight limp, and the curve along her back.

She never complained, though, and caused me little trouble. Winters were hard on her and even in the warm shelter, she cast her eyes beyond… waiting…watching.

One day, she sought out her grown lamb and nestled close, then simply lay down on the grass and was gone. The other sheep gathered around, curious as sheep are. I found her still and quiet. I knew she was gone. Her eyes were still open, fixed on the pasture beyond the enclosure, seeing what we could not see.

I will miss the old ewe. The flock will miss her presence in the morning, when she came quietly from her resting place to nuzzle the young lambs…softly, gentle in her way. The shepherd came and spoke, then we laid her away beneath the earth, near the beyond place where she longed to be.

The Lone Sunflower

2011-09-18T14:09:00.001-07:00

The time is nearing when we must close Wildrose Cottage for the summer season. Flowers are still blooming in the beds and my herb garden was prolific this year due to an abundant rainfall. Autumn color has not made an appearance, but you can feel it in the air. Winter is waiting, just around the corner. Summer seems tired of itself, ready to return to the earth.

Last evening, we drove the seven miles south to the farm where I grew up and where my sister and family still live. Just one last visit before flying home, I said. While walking through the late summer gardens, I noticed a lone sunflower, set apart from its fellows that were standing in neat orderly rows surrounded by a sturdy wooden fence. Somehow, this one sunflower seed had escaped the enclosure and was growing alone, apart from the sunflowers that held their heads up toward the sun. Outside the fence, the lone sunflower struggled on alone, bedraggled, worm eaten, alone in the harsh elements of rain and sun and wind. The large head was bowed to the earth. I had to have that picture.

The scene reminded me of God’s sheep together in the sheepfold, safely enclosed, together through the storms, the harsh elements, the attacks of predators, but still standing together, heads up, enfolded in God’s love, His care, watched over by the shepherd, by the shepherdess.

No marvel that Jesus went searching for the one sheep outside the safety of the sheepfold. Survival outside the fold is rare, the dangers are imminent, and the comfort and support of other sheep is missing.

How vivid are the lessons of nature! The patch of sunflowers enclosed together were hearty and colorful, filled with seeds, while only a few feet away, the lone sunflower struggled to survive, to produce, lacking strength to hold up its head and stand alone in the waning summer evening.

God’s people need each other and most of all; we need Him to set the parameters in our lives, to structure our life according to His will, the way that is best for us.

HEART OF THE NOVEL

2011-09-06T13:12:00.001-07:00

If a bodie disagrees wi ye, try ti understaund whit wey, an tak the time ti gie guid raesons whit wey ye think yer ain wey is better.

Overview for: Sword of the Wild Rose

The protagonist in the inspirational/historical novel, Sword of the Wild Rose, is an ancestor of the Davidson family in previous novels by the author, The Wild Rose of Lancaster, book 1, in the Wildrose series, and Wild Rose of Promise, book 2.

Sword of the Wild Rose is a “prequel” to books 1 & 2. However, all three books can be read as “stand alone” novels.

In the latest historical novel, our story opens with the “Battle of Bushy Run,” final battle of the French and Indian War. We meet Donald Davidson, soldier of the famed Black Watch, who appears at the scene of battle, then vanishes from sight.

Then we follow the life of our protagonist, Derick Davidson, Donald’s nephew, as he struggles through the heart-wrenching years of exile from Scotland and his subsequent effort to gain a foothold in his new homeland—America.

This setting for this novel is colonial America, 1773, just prior to the American Revolution. This window into Derick’s life covers his involvement in pre-revolutionary America and the events leading up to the war. After his ship arrives in Boston in 1773, Derick meets Daniel Morgan, the colorful and controversial character who later becomes the famed Revolutionary War hero of Saratoga.

The Colonies are on the brink of revolution and Derick again finds himself facing his age-old enemy—the English. Throughout his dangerous sojourn in the American colonies, Derick seeks an answer to the age-old question—why God, why me? The senseless murder of his young wife in Scotland, his unlawful act of retribution on the perpetrators, and leaving behind his children in Scotland, continually plague and trouble his mind.

Daniel Morgan takes Derick to his home in Virginia and teaches him the ways of the American frontiersmen. He finds a true friend in Morgan’s young neighbor, the beautiful and winsome Kearan Mackenzie. He discovers in her youthful honesty, a diversion to his grief. Kearan’s heart warms with love for the Scotsman, but her knowledge of his dark and questionable past cannot be overlooked. There must be a resolution. Derick is so self-absorbed with the pain of his past that he never dreams that the lass is falling in love with him. Kearan longs to comfort him, but he is lost in a world of painful memories, a place where she cannot go.

In a fortuitous meeting, Derick is reunited with his uncle, Donald Davidson, a former soldier of the famed Black Watch, a Highland Regiment fighting with the British during the Seven Years War. After the wars, Donald Davidson remains in America, taking up the life of a “longhunter.” Donald is a positive influence on the bitter young man, his brother’s son.

Derick drills with the riflemen from Frederick County under the leadership of his good friend, Captain Daniel Morgan. Derick becomes a skilled rifleman but is reluctant to join the Patriots. Centuries of fighting the English for independence leave Derick with little hope of an American victory.

Throughout the dangerous and difficult pre-war years and the events leading to the American Revolution, Daniel Morgan and Derick Davidson build a unique and lasting friendship that carry them through the unsettling times of revolutionary America.

Kearan Mackenzie eventually wins the heart of the handsome Scotsman, but not before he comes face to face with himself in a tempestuous battle of wills. He has taught her to sword fight, but we find that it is Kearan Mackenzie who holds the tip of her sword to Derick’s throat.

Filled with danger, intrigue, and unconditional love, Sword of the Wild Rose is the story of one man’s spiritual journey from the depths of heartbreak and revenge to the liberating experience of Divine forgiveness. ♦

LAST OF THE CLAN

2011-08-27T16:18:00.000-07:00

Thomas Faed (1826 – 1900)

Recently, someone asked, “Why do you write about the past, about your ancestors and the trials they endured.”

I didn’t have to think long. In the words of Bruce Catton:

"We are people to whom the past is forever speaking. We listen to it because we cannot help ourselves, for the past speaks to us with many voices.”

In my home I have an art print by Thomas Faed titled, “The Last of the Clan.” The painting speaks of an ending for some, a beginning for others, and always; the poignant loss of what is loved and known. The old clan chief sits astride his highland pony by the seashore. His people reveal the mixed emotions etched in their faces. They mill about him, his wife weeping by his side. Some personal belongings are on the dock, left behind like the chief who is too old to make a new life.

A lad, perhaps a son, is pulling up the ropes that hold the ship and this people to the land. Many of the clan people are sailing away, never to be seen again by the chief’s old eyes.

When I first viewed this painting, I connected with the scene emotionally, feeling the pathos of the landscape, the exile, acutely aware of my own ancestral departure from the land of my people’s nativity. The past calls out to me and I simply write about those times of separation from home and country when my people came to America to begin a new life. They carried a sword, a dream of freedom, and I could not help writing about them. When I visit my ancestral home in Scotland, I understand in a deeper sense what it meant to leave all. The blood runs deep and It is part of me…still…still.

BE STILL AND KNOW THAT I AM GOD...

2011-08-22T09:42:00.000-07:00

“Be still and know that I am God”

Psalm 46:10

Be Still, and Know that I Am God,
My Father said to Me,
And I will fill you with My Peace,
And set your Spirit Free.

The Spirit of God waits…listening…hoping that the human spirit, His own creation gone astray, will turn again to Him, and, like a mighty sea, He rushes to the smallest chink in the walls that shut Him out from His own. He is, and always is…all about us…if we only open our eyes, if we are still enough to listen

Ruth Carmichael Ellinger

Wildrose cottage in summer

2011-08-17T11:24:00.001-07:00

Wildrose Cottage in summer

An angel to inspire

On the porch...Wildrose Cottage

Welcome to my Cottage

We have just returned from our cottage in Ohio, a place of refuge and peace, of renewing and inspiration. While there, I visited shops that stock my books, went ‘antiquing’ with my husband and renewed an old friendship of bygone years. And…for the first time in a long while, all my siblings were there – at the red brick farmhouse where I grew up, where both fond and painful memories are forever etched on my mind.

I feel so blessed to have sisters and brothers, to know they love me unconditionally. We are so very different, but tied together by blood, by the past that has shaped us into who we are today.

When I go home, I still feel the emptiness of not having living parents, of losing both ten months apart. How strange and wonderful and unexplainable is family. Surely, if I am God’s child, He thinks of me in the same way. I will ever be grateful for His plan for my life and for His wonderful love to me.

From an email friend:

If you never felt pain, how would you know that I am a Healer?

If you never had to pray, how would you know that I am a Deliverer?

If you never had a trial, how could you call yourself an overcomer?

If you never felt sadness, how would you know that I am a Comforter?

If you never made a mistake,
how would you know that I am a forgiver?

If you knew all, how would you know that I would answer your questions?

If you never were in trouble,
how would you know that I will come to your rescue

If you never were broken, how would you know that I can make you whole?

If you never had a problem,
how would you know that I could solve them?

If you never had any suffering, how would you know what I went through?

If you never went through the fire, how would you become pure?

If I gave you all things, how would you appreciate them?

If I never corrected you, how would you know that I love you?

If you had all power, how would you learn to depend on me?

If your life was perfect, what would you need me for?

Jesus

Elizabeth and Stephen Under the Arbour

2011-07-30T07:58:00.000-07:00

Excerpt form

The Wild Rose of Lancaster

Book 1 in the Wildrose Trilogy

"In truth, it is imperative that you leave, for both our sakes, but I must admit, I will miss you. The house was brighter after you came to us—to Amelia and me. The lonely hours were filled with the consolation of a child playing by the hearth and I loved watching you sit by Amelia, quietly reading to her as the snow fell softly outside the window."

He looked away, to the distant hills, as if to find solace in those sweet memories, now only a part of the past. "Yes, I will miss all of you—Amelia and you and Jamie. When you and Jamie came to us, you made our house a home, and honestly—I don't know how I will fill the lonely hours. God sent you and your winsome ways to us in a time when we were desperately lonely and in need of comfort and help. That part of our life is over now and we must move forward again. Who can say what the future will hold, but whatever God has in mind, it will be the very best for me. Will you remember all I have said, Elizabeth?"

"Yes, Stephen," said Elizabeth feeling a rush of compassion for this man who had befriended her in her hour of need, and who suffered so meekly his own sorrow and loss. “I will remember all you have said to me this day. I want you to believe this, Dr. Whitman—not a shadow of dishonor mars your integrity and you are blameless in my eyes. If you thought I believed otherwise—you are mistaken. I have no doubt of your love and devotion to Amelia. I believe you were loyal to your marriage vows and exemplary in your trial. Your actions toward me were above reproach. I have no regrets. And if I have added any measure of comfort to your life—to Amelia's final fleeting days, then I am glad for it.”

To order book 1 in the WILDROSE trilogy,

THE WILD ROSE OF LANCASTER, go to:

http://ruthellinger.com/mybooks.ht

Better Than My Best

2011-07-26T16:32:00.001-07:00

Better Than My Best

I prayed for strength, and then I lost awhile
All sense of nearness, human and divine;
The love I leaned on failed and pierced my heart,
The hands I clung to loosed themselves from mine;
But while I swayed, weak, trembling, and alone,
The everlasting arms upheld my own.

I prayed for light; the sun went down in clouds,
The moon was darkened by a misty doubt,
The stars of heaven were dimmed by earthly fears,
And all my little candle flames burned out;
But while I sat in shadow, wrapped in night,
The face of Christ made all the darkness bright.

I prayed for peace, and dreamed of restful ease,
A slumber drugged from pain, a hushed repose;
Above my head the skies were black with storm,
And fiercer grew the onslaught of my foes;
But while the battle raged, and wild winds blew,
I heard His voice and perfect peace I knew.

I thank you, Lord, You were so wise to heed
My feeble prayers, and answer as I sought,
Since these rich gifts Your bounty has bestowed
Have brought me more than all I asked or thought;
Giver of good, so answer each request
With Your own giving -- better than my best.

Annie Johnson Flint

TEA WITH A FRIEND

2011-07-25T16:23:00.001-07:00

Memories never forgotten,

Talks that never end,

I treasure each mile of the journey,

With you…my beautiful friend!

There is nothing quite like sitting down with a friend for a chat over a cup of hot fragrant tea. To make this friendship hour special, it is worth the effort to make tea properly. Tea must always be made in a china pot. Never, never try to make the tea in a mug or teacup. Tea will not steep well in the cup, and all the flavor and aroma that is such a pleasant part of tea making will escape. Choose a good quality tea. The best tea is made form actual leaves and not from bags which often contain crushed and leftover leaves.

The flavors must be steeped into the brew by a snug-fitting lid on the teapot. Fill the teapot first with boiling water to warm the pot before you make the tea. Then empty the hot water, and place the tealeaves into the pot. The usual amount is one teaspoon of leaves per cup. If you prefer strong tea, you may want to use more tealeaves, but if you prefer a weaker tea, don't cut down on the amount of leaves, or you will sacrifice flavor and aroma.

Just add a little hot water to the tea after you pour it into the cup and this will weaken the tea without losing the flavor of properly brewed tea.

Bring the water for the tea to a rolling, bubbling boll, and then pour the hot water over the tealeaves, placing the lid on quickly and covering the pot with a tea cozy.

A tea cozy is a snug fitting wrap or “blanket” to cover the teapot after the tea has been made. The cozy will hold in the heat while the tea steeps. Allow about five minutes for the tea to steep. Pour tea through a strainer into cups and serve with sugar and cream. Ummmm! Lord, please don’t come before teatime!

And since I have naught to give,

And love alone must make amends,

My humblest prayer is while I live

God, make me worthy of my friends.

©Ruth Carmichael Ellinger 7/23/11

Emily turns “Sweet Sixteen”

2011-07-20T10:23:00.000-07:00

I arrived at the hospital shortly after Emily was born. My first glimpse of this new little granddaughter was a cherished moment. Looking into her round little face, I saw passion, raw and new, clothed in peachy soft skin, dark blue eyes that soon turned brown and peachy red hair that made me laugh. “Now,” I said to my daughter, “this little lassie will be a challenge.”

I could have foretold of her passionate nature, her amazing artistic and musical ability, and her natural creative instincts. It was all there…on the day she was born. She was a Highland lassie, no doubt, red hair and all, a descendant of her Scottish ancestors; open, free, tumultuous, and mixed with that combination, a loving heart; intense, sincere and loyal. Emily is lovely, and the world has been far more colorful since she arrived.

The day of “letting go” Can I wear my own shoes?

2011-07-14T14:16:00.000-07:00

I remember vividly the day of “letting go.” One of our children had turned to me and said quietly, “Mom, can I wear my own shoes now?” I understood. It was time.

From their birth, God had entrusted my husband and me with the welfare of our children and I had done my best to stay on top of each child’s comings and goings. In their growing up years, I had devoted myself to overseeing their education, developing spiritual and moral character, instilling family values, ascribing to all that entailed raising children to be productive adults, citizens who were an honor to God and country.

Raising a family involves years of hard work. No one can dispute this fact. There are days filled with unforeseen twists and turns to work through. And now that the hard work is over, I am supposed to just...let go? Somehow, this trading of roles doesn’t seem quite right.

How could I ever turn my children over to God’s control or…to another human being who might undo all my hard work? This was an awesome challenge and one that every parent faces. Letting go is not easy, but it is always best to trust our children to God rather than bungle up the future along with relationships.

The knowledge that it was time to “let go and let God” arrived differently for each of our children. The arrival day was unique, singular, the Spirit of God leading me to that place where I didn’t want to go. This divine revelation came like soft summer rain for one child, like a lightening bolt and booming thunder for another, and no words were needed at all for one child, only silence and the sense that it was time.

“Come what may…they are yours, Lord.”

©Ruth Carmichael Ellinger 2011

THE SHEPHERD AND HIS GARDEN

2011-07-12T13:25:00.001-07:00

LILIES WITH BOWED HEADS

My husband is not only a shepherd, but an avid gardener. He is passionate about plants; growing things, and prunes and removes only when absolutely necessary. His gardening habits are a source of contest between us, but most of the time, I let him win since he is the primary caregiver. I enjoy a well-manicured “planned” garden with flowers and shrubs neatly spaced, a place of organized loveliness. The shepherd, however, prefers a wild, “grow and let grow” until the stone pathways are overrun with blooms and the herb garden yields enough to last a lifetime. I find sweet basil, tarragon, and whatever else might need harvesting, hanging in the laundry room to dry.

Last evening, after the rain, I walked through the garden, my skirts wet with rainwater, enjoying the sweet fragrant whiff of a late gardenia blossom and the vivid color of crepe myrtle. The shepherd was moving some young crepe myrtle plants to pots. (Trust me, he wouldn’t throw them out), and he exposed a lily plant with two beautiful blooms. After working in the garden all evening, I noticed the lily had drooped, the two heads lying over on the stone edging. I stopped to see if the plants were broken and could see no damage.

“Why is the lily drooping over?” I asked my husband.

“Because it has lost a friend, the young myrtle that offered it shade and companionship has been relocated to the back garden,” he said.

“Are you serious?” I asked.

“Yes, I’m serious. Plants like other plants growing around them. It is hard to grow alone. Plant friends offer shade and comfort. They droop and sometimes die without other plant friends around.”

“Will the lily die?” For the first time, I felt sorrow for a plant.

“If it is strong, it will come through to bloom again, but if it is weak and too sad, it will die.”

“You should have left the myrtle.”

He smiled at me and cocked his head, knowing I had ruthlessly pulled out many a plant and not blinked an eye.

“It had to be done,” he said simply. “Let’s watch the lily; see how strong she is.”

The Psalmist speaks of God being our shade, our shelter, our protector, our friend. I have a greater appreciation for the shadowing presence of the Lord, for friends who stand by me, offering shelter and comfort.

Two things: I have never prayed for a lily before.

I love my husband/gardener/shepherd more today. I understand his thoughts and I will be more patient.

“Oh, Lord, be my shade, my shelter from the heat and fury of those who would hinder me; let your shadow fall over me on my right hand, that the sun may not smite me by day, nor the moon by night...”

Psalm 121

I will lift up mine eyes unto the hills, from whence cometh my help. My help cometh from the Lord, which made heaven and earth. He will not suffer thy foot to be moved: he that keepeth thee will not slumber. Behold, he that keepeth Israel shall neither slumber nor sleep. The Lord is thy keeper: the Lord is thy shade upon thy right hand. The sun shall not smite thee by day, nor the moon by night. The Lord shall preserve thee from all evil: he shall preserve thy soul. The Lord shall preserve thy going out and thy coming in from this time forth, and even for evermore.

AFTER THE RAIN

2011-07-12T13:07:00.000-07:00

AFTER THE RAIN

MARGRET'S ANGEL

THROUGH THE GARDEN GATE
MISTY SUMMER EVENING

Sisters...

2011-07-09T06:53:00.000-07:00

The body language says it all. A sister is protection from anything that would come between.

“I will take care of you…I will hold you close to my heart.”

Sisters…they sometimes drive you crazy, sometimes are your closest friend, your ally against all others. Sisters know your foibles, your weaknesses, your strengths, your ambitions. Like no other person in the world, they know you. And despite it all, they love you unconditionally.

You grow up together, sharing a room, sometimes a bed, always a dream. You breathe the same air, witness life together as one, and observe each other in every phase of life, wondering what makes other one tick. And despite those dissimilarities, you are tied together by blood, by culture, by the common thread of genetics.

To lose a sister is a rending that can never be replaced by any other. Appreciate your sister today. Let her know that she is special, that she is loved.

AMERICA'S BIRTHDAY!

2011-07-04T19:30:00.000-07:00

"We are people to whom the past is forever speaking. We listen to it because we cannot help ourselves, for the past speaks to us with many voices. Far out of that dark nowhere which is the time before we were born, men who were flesh of our flesh and bone of our bone went through fire and storm to break a path to the future. We are part of the future they died for; they are part of the past that brought the future.

What they did, the lives they lived, the sacrifices they made, the stories they told and the songs they sang and, finally, the deaths they died, make up a part of our own experience. We cannot cut ourselves off from it. It is as real to us as something that happened last week. It is a basic part of our heritage as Americans".

-Bruce Catton

There is always one moment in childhood when the door opens and lets the future in. Graham Greene

2011-07-02T16:24:00.000-07:00

After a special time at our high school class reunion and a stay at our summer cottage, I returned home to the heart of a FL July and over a hundred emails waiting to be answered. I waded through email all morning and then took a break, pulling out a book of Mary Engelbreit’s artistic creations. I was soon lost in time.

As an adult, I enjoy the poignant art and the unique combination of ME’s characters, the vibrant color and contrast of her work, and best of all, the inspiring words that transport the reader to another time when life was simple, where childhood days are reflected from the pages. Her exceptional portrayal of children are doors to other times…cherished memories. Yet, I find her art and words a true fit for today’s busy life as well. I pause and reflect and dream. On this piece of artwork and in the words of Graham Greene; “There is always one moment in childhood when the door opens and lets the future in.”

This particular poster is sooo me. Although Mary didn’t realize it, she captured me in those childhood years; tablet in hand, sitting on a rock under the tree, trying desperately to look into the future, to know what lay ahead. Then one day it happened in a moment of time. The door cracked just a wee bit and I saw two primary things: that God would be my first love and my tablet was filled with writing. This was enough. The door closed again and my future was in God’s hands. Today…I am His shepherdess and I am His writer. No marvel that I love this poster.

6/1/2011

Wildrose Cottage at sunset

2011-06-20T14:34:00.001-07:00

Our get-away cottage

Clan Davidson,…my ancestors

2011-06-20T13:35:00.000-07:00

Celebrating Freedom…

"Life, Liberty, and the pursuit of Happiness" is one of the most often quoted and famous phrases in the US Declaration of Independence. Considered by many to be one of the most well crafted, influential sentences in the history of the English language, these three dynamic aspects of life are listed among the "unalienable rights" or sovereign rights of humankind. There is born in the breast of every person that ever drew breath, the need to survive, to endure, to live in such a way as to preserve the liberty and freedom to choose one’s own path, be it good or bad. To pursue the course to happiness with freedom to choose must be carefully measured, knowing the result of our choice will be weighed in the just balance of a Sovereign God.

If a Sovereign God will judge the consequence of our choices, why then do nations choose to fight? Most fight for greed and gain, for what will benefit them personally. But there are some who fight for freedom…freedom from the tyranny of rulers, from the bonds of oppression and slavery, for denying men of their unalienable rights; the right to live freely, to choose, to pursue happiness. Some peoples and nations will raise armies, go to war and even die to preserve their rights as men and women with the God ordained right to be free and to maintain the inherent right of free will.

My ancestors, Scots who valued these basic rights so much that life itself was not dearer than their liberty, and for this cause, this passion for freedom, they remember the ancient times, the days of old when their predecessors bled the ground red with blood on the misty battlefields of Scotland. This same passion for freedom runs deep in the gene pool of our people, an inner fire rekindled in the gatherings of the clans from their places of exile in faraway lands.

I feel fortunate to be born in the US, yet have an ancestral home and heritage where I return to remember the cause of my people, a cause that wrings the withers of my heart. I place a strong value on freedom, for those who fought and died on American soil to preserve a nation of free people. May God stir every heart to value and maintain our precious freedoms as Scottish-Americans. The photos above are a few from the recent Clan Davidson International Gathering in June when Davidsons from all over the world came together in KS to rehearse and remember their turbulent and colorful heritage.

An excerpt from the Epilogue of my latest book,

“Sword of the Wild Rose,” reads:

But where are the Scottish Highlanders today? Where are their lands and their ancient clans? The glens are quiet, wreathed in misty silence. The mountain paths are overgrown with grass, and the villages lie in stony ruin. The warrior’s cause is forgotten, but for those of his own blood who still hear the song of the pipes echoing in the glen, a mournful tune resonating from the shadows of their stormy past,

The mysterious war cry of the Highlander is heard no more, and his bonny bride waits in vain for his return. His battles are over and his deeds are done. The ancient tale is told in the land of mist and tears. Never again will he boast of his all-conquering arm over the enemy, nor will his heart leap at the cry of the curlew or the whistle of the arrow, for he sleeps in the shade of the glen, beneath the moss and the heather. ♦

Thoughts on Liberty

"Statesmen may plan and speculate for liberty, but it is religion and morality alone, which can establish the principles upon which freedom can securely stand. The only foundation of a free Constitution is pure virtue, and if this cannot be inspired into our people in a greater measure than they have it now, they may change their rulers and the forms of government, but they will not obtain a lasting liberty." John Adams

"Neither the wisest constitution nor the wisest laws will secure the liberty and happiness of a people whose manners are universally corrupt. He therefore is the truest friend of the liberty of his country who tries most to promote its virtue, and who, so far as his power and influence extend, will not suffer a man to be chosen onto any office of power and trust who is not a wise and virtuous man." Samuel Adams

"Freedom exists only when a nation obeys the dictates of morality and right reason, that of the natural law and righteous judgment. When a government imposes policies contrary to the laws of nature and common sense, confusion and disorder dominate the society. Where wickedness rules, liberty ends." (paraphrased)

Remember…

By understanding our past, those events that have shaped our world, we can gain the knowledge and insight to change the future—sometimes to alter the course of history.

Ruth Carmichael Ellinger

One little hand…

2011-06-04T10:54:00.000-07:00

Meeting Michael…

I wondered how the first meeting with our newly adopted grandson, Michael, now five, would be? Would he understand the family connection and accept me as his “Grammy?”

A hundred thoughts danced through my mind as we prepared for the trip to meet with our Idaho daughter and her family.

Michael had lost his birth mother, his adoptive mother, and been in a number of foster care situations; some good, some bad, and the little boy was only four when my daughter felt constrained by God to add this little misplaced person to her growing family of two teenage daughters and one son, now eleven.

Her home in the rugged and picturesque northern panhandle of Idaho was ideal for those who love the laid-back country life where horses graze in pastures of wildflowers and vegetable gardens grow and are put away for the winter. The root cellar added last year was the latest “back to the earth” innovation to Kathy’s healthy eating, living, and home schooling life style. This little boy, “nobody’s child,” would now belong to a real family, a Christian family who would teach him to love and serve God. Of course, this would be an adjustment for everyone concerned. But, if anyone could manage the challenges this entailed, our daughter, husband, and family could make a home for Michael.

In book 2, Wild Rose of Promise, the Wildrose series, we meet Sarah Faye, a child unwanted and unloved. My mind has gone to that portion of my book many times since I knew Michael would soon join our extended family. Like Sarah Faye, he deserved a chance to have a good life, to have a strong foundation for his future.

First Meeting: Michael was small with dark hair and big brown eyes. He walked up to me, a smile spreading across his face. I knew his mother had schooled him for this special first meeting.

“Are you my Grammy?” he queried. He never stopped smiling.

“Yes, I am your own Grammy, your mommy’s mother.”

A warm little hand slipped softly into mine and he said looking up at me, “Grammy…I love you.” Then he threw his arms around me and gave me a hot little kiss and a warm hug. Such total and unconditional acceptance of me melted my heart.

One more time, I fell in love.

Granduation time...

2011-06-03T19:19:00.000-07:00

I can hardly believe it but it's true -- aMandalin, Mandy as we call her, our firstborn granddaughter is graduating from high school. It seems like only yesterday that we were rushing her mother down the mountain near Coeur d’Alene to the hospital on a freezing November night. New snow was falling and we stopped for a cup of tea at a local restaurant (near the hospital) while we waited for Kathy to progress in her labor. It was a long, long night...but finally, Mandy came into the world, eyes wide open, ready for something. Now...she is still in that "eyes wide open" state and waiting to see what God has for her future. We know whatever that might be, a lovely young girl is dedicated to the plan God has mapped out for her. What a blessing she has been to all who know her and how blessed we feel to know that she loves and serves her Creator.

PS. I think she might be a writer...like her Grammy.

We remember...

2011-05-22T11:30:00.000-07:00

The Declaration of Arbroath, in translation, has become a rallying cry.

...as long as a hundred of us remain alive, never will we on any conditions be subjected to the lordship of the English. It is in truth not for glory, nor riches, nor honors that we are fighting, but for freedom alone, which no honest man gives up but with life itself.

Give Me Liberty Or Give Me Death

Patrick Henry, March 23, 1775.

It is in vain, sir, to extenuate the matter. Gentlemen may cry, Peace, Peace-- but there is no peace. The war is actually begun! The next gale that sweeps from the north will bring to our ears the clash of resounding arms! Our brethren are already in the field! Why stand we here idle? What is it that gentlemen wish? What would they have? Is life so dear, or peace so sweet, as to be purchased at the price of chains and slavery? Forbid it, Almighty God! I know not what course others may take; but as for me, give me liberty or give me death!

♥

First Glimpse...

2011-05-03T20:06:00.000-07:00

HAPPY MOTHERS DAY

There is a certain look…that mysterious and wonderful, incredible, “first glimpse” when a mother sees her child for the first time, the world is renewed with the hope that God has a plan for this particular child. aMandalin came into the world looking around to see what was going on. But the look on her mother's face says it all. I was pleased to capture that loving, tender maternal look that a mother has for her firstborn. Katherine gave us the precious gift of our first grandchild, aMandalin.

HANDFASTING...BINDING TOGETHER

2011-05-02T20:15:00.000-07:00

Recently, a friend told me of a wedding she had attended where the ancient ceremony of “handfasting,” symbolic of binding the couple together for life, was celebrated during the wedding ceremony. I have often read of the handfasting custom when researching Scottish history. Handfasting was most often a ceremony of betrothal, a year before the actual wedding took place. We moderns say; we are “engaged” to be married. This custom is not unique to the Scots, but is an ancient Celtic custom that dates back to early medieval times. Today, the custom is making a comeback, but most often during the actual wedding celebration. Since the season for weddings has arrived, I thought to include some portions of the handfasting ceremony.

The Binding

Now you are bound one to the other
With a tie not easy to break.
Take the time of binding
Before the final vows are made
To learn what you need to know -
To grow in wisdom and love.
That your marriage will be strong
That your love will last
In this life and beyond.

Scottish Wedding Prayer

Lord help us to remember when
We first met and the strong
love that grew between us.
To work that love into
practical things so that nothing
can divide us.
We ask for words both kind
and loving and hearts always
ready to ask forgiveness
as well as to forgive.
Dear Lord, we put our
marriage into your hands.

BROKEN...

2011-04-30T18:39:00.001-07:00

On Easter evening, we celebrated the Lord’s Supper with our congregation, and when it was my turn to take the unleavened bread, the server held the silver tray before me and whispered, “This is the Lord’s body…that was broken for you…

Broken for me? Yes…He was broken.

I will admit; over the years, my heart has been broken―more than once. I am human like anyone else. I cry, I bleed, and I feel. How could I have thought that my heart would not be broken, that I would always be strong, that God would not allow me to experience brokenness―helplessness? Could I expect to be different?

When a loved one dies, when your children suffer, when someone you love goes astray, your heart may break. But His heart and body were broken. He understands heartache. He knows.

I understand in a deeper sense the meaning of His brokenness. His body was broken and He was broken in heart. He wept over Jerusalem, over lost humankind. He suffered; He bled; He died…and I am not alone. From my brokenness, I find strength in Him. I become more aware of others, their pain. I seek to offer compassion.

If we are never broken, we cannot be mended by the master Potter who knows just how to mend a broken vessel. A heart never broken will never understand that we can be made whole again. It is an enlightening and encouraging reality. Our Lord understands brokenness. From the chards of our shattered heart, He picks us up the pieces and lays them on the potter’s wheel. The potter knows the clay. He will make us whole again.

Then I went down to the potter's house, and, behold, he wrought a work on the wheels. And the vessel that he made of clay was marred in the hand of the potter: so he made it again another vessel, as seemed good to the potter to make it. Then the word of the LORD came to me, saying, cannot I do with you as this potter? saith the Lord. Behold, as the clay is in the potter's hand, so are ye in mine hand…

Jer. 18:3-6

©ruthellinge5/2011

THE CROSS...

2011-04-21T17:42:00.001-07:00

For the Christian believer, the cross represents the instrument used to torture and crucify Jesus Christ and is the best-known religeous symbol of Christianity. The cross-shaped sign is formed by the crossing of two lines at right angles, and is a symbol that dates back to early civilization. The symbol was used by various peoples for reasons as simple as kindling a fire, as a strong architectural support for building, even as a sign of power. The ancient Egyptian Christians attracted by its form, and perhaps by its symbolism, adopted it as an emblem. It was carried by Egyptian priests as the symbol of their authority.

While visiting Scotland, the numerous crosses used at burial sights was unusually noteworthy. During the Protestant reformation and the centuries following, the cross signified a believer’s hope in the resurrection and eternal life and a believer’s triumph over sin and death.

Today, the cross reminds us of God's act of love and compassion and of Christ's sacrifice at Calvary—"the Lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world." The cross is symbolic of Jesus' victory over sin and death, and the hope of the resurrection to come. It is not simply a symbol of Christ’s torture, but also of his triumph over Satan, and of God’s eternal love.

When I survey the wondrous cross,
On which the prince of glory died,
My richest gain I count but loss
And pour contempt on all my pride.

Forbid it Lord that I should boast
Save in the death of Christ my Lord.
All the vain things that charm me most,
I sacrifice t hem to his blood.

Who I am...

2011-04-20T12:04:00.000-07:00

Who am I? A women who loves a cup of tea, sweetened with honey, and a screened porch where I sit on a glider while jasmine and gardenia perfume the air. I love my cottage gardens, front and back, my spa sheltered by miniature palms and potted herbs spicing the breeze. I love my southern home and my get-away cottage in the Midwest where another porch beckons me to rest awhile.

My personal style has evolved from a country rearing and living in many different area of the US and even in other countries. From my background, I have gathered the most treasured parts of life, those things literal and spiritual that I call, “keepers.” I love all things family, all things Scottish, sad Celtic music, and the history of the world, cultures and peoples. I am a student of people, their passions, their pathos.

I am a born and raised child of the earth, from the rich and fertile fields of Ohio where golden rod and Queen Anne’s lace and apple trees border the harvested fields. I love the earthy simplicity of life with a touch of whimsy to sweeten the journey. My thoroughly Scottish father was a complex person, and my mother was a dreamer. I am a mixture of both, but find my Scottish side most dominant.

The passion and pathos of my ancestry mixed with dreaming of another life created the writer in me. I, too, am a complex person, but the One who knows me best, goes before me, leading me gently through this life to the next. He also gave me a soul mate to travel beside me. Life has been good. I have been blessed.

SPRING...

2011-04-08T19:18:00.000-07:00

This wee writing is for those who love the smell of damp earth turned toward the sun to dry, waiting for the precious seed to sink into the dark depths of the soil. Then…to be covered over…to die. But, once again, life will spring from what seemed cold and dead and hidden. And like the certainty in the cycle of life, we know that God is real and His handiwork speaks of Him. The marvelous and undeniable lessons we see in nature live forever, just as He abides forever.

The Characters...

2011-03-30T10:55:00.001-07:00

From the Author

“In Sword of the Wild Rose, I have attempted to weave my story through the many significant events leading up to the American Revolution. This particular time and the people of that day have intrigued my imagination for many years. To write this novel, I chose one of my own ancestors, Derick Davidson, and pulled stories from the events of his life and placed him at the onset of the American Revolution. (where he really was). I relied heavily on my supporting characters, Daniel Morgan, the real life hero of Saratoga and Cowpens, and one of the most colorful and beloved characters of that time.”

Morgan was a patriot in every sense of the word, having suffered forty-nine stripes on his bare back at the hands of the British. He was a brawling, cursing, hulk of a man, but an endearing character, whose contribution to the Revolutionary War was unparalleled. He and his company of riflemen were significant participants in the war effort and America owes much to this steadfast company of sharp shooters that kept things hot and exciting for the British during the war for independence.

And what is a book without a wee bit of romance? Although I am not a serious romance writer and my couples barely get the chance at a kiss, I am a firm believer in romance, aye to be sure, and I do like to incorporate this lovely aspect of the human spirit: the need for love, and to be loved in return. I create this element of emotion and sentiment from my own experience on the subject. Aye, lads and lassies, what is life without love?

Beautifully and Elegantly Modest

2011-03-11T20:09:00.000-08:00

In today’s society, any attempt to maintain a standard of dress that reflects the Biblical principle of modesty is often met with ridicule and scorn. Nevertheless, the opinions and attitudes of our modern day should not affect the example of a Christian woman or young lady who truly desires to reflect Christ in every part of her life including the outward standard of dress.

What is modesty of dress? Some synonyms are; purity, simplicity, dignity, decency, innocence, just to name a few. What comes to mind when you hear these words? Modesty entails the conventional proprieties in speech, behavior, and dress.

Serving God as a woman is reasonable. The Biblical standard of modesty in dress is not grievous to the woman who desires to please God in every part of her life. Modesty of dress is not taking a vow of poverty in our outward appearance or dressing down to appear humble or different with no concern for our personal appearance. Quite the contrary. We should reflect the charm and beauty that is woman. This quality of grace belongs to our gender and is inspired by God himself for our special role in life.

Concerning the trendy and immodest fashions of the world, we must be firm—unyielding. Otherwise, ungodly dress and graceless behavior will creep into our lives until we betray our own inherent and God-given modesty.

In our desire to present ourselves as women of modesty and femininity, we must also guard against falling into legalism or acting in an unbecoming manner toward those who have yet to embrace God’s ideals for the feminine sex. Teach by example and treat all women with love and respect, from the youngest baby girl to the questioning teen, even unto the aging grandmother.

Excerpt from: Dressing with Decency and Dignity

In my search for lovely and modest clothing, I came across some wonderful sites for dressing in a manner that reflects femininity and the inner beauty and character of the godly woman. Here is what I found. Have fun shopping…or dreaming.

Beautifully Modest

http://www.beautifullymodest.com/

“Modesty is extremely important to us at Beautifully Modest. We truly believe in our motto- First in fashion, Elegant by Design, Modest by Choice. We believe that a woman is beautiful for her character and should be able to express her personality through modest fashion. We are proud to say, that with the help of a wonderful designer, we offer fashionable dresses to accommodate all who choose to maintain high standards.”

Hannah Lise

http://www.hannahlise.com/default.aspx

Hannah Lise is a direct merchant of quality modest clothing for women and girls, clothing that is not typically found in the mainstream marketplace.

Funkyfrum.com

http://www.funkyfrum.com/

An online e-boutique providing stylish modest clothing for modern women, especially for the fashion-savvy, modern woman committed to dressing modestly, yet beautifully fashionable.

This last link will connect you with various companies who offer modest clothing for living in today’s world.

http://www.livingmodest.com/modest_clothing_companies.asp

Anna of the Celts by Dean Morrissey

2011-03-05T14:39:00.000-08:00

This lovely painting , Anna of the Celts by Dean Morrissey, was a birthday gift from my husband.

My Own Agenda…

My husband is on a mission trip to Central America and I have nine days of my own – waking when I am done sleeping, eating peanut butter and jelly for dinner if I choose, researching my ancestry, and working on my next writing project until the wee hours of the morning. So much for my agenda!

On Monday, a truck turned around in the church parking area, became tangled in the electric wiring, pulling the electrical apparatus from the building, blowing the transformer while strewing live wires down the driveway. My neighbor was at my door with the news. Phoned electric company, insurance, sheriff, (a hit and run) and…so much for Monday. It wasn’t until late Wednesday that all contacts were made, electrician hired, and everything up and running, all while my pastor/husband is sipping mango milkshakes thousands of miles away.

Tuesday, my Co-Director for FIWR, Debora M. Coty and I met for a staff meeting. She says her new website was kidnapped and held for ransom! What is the world coming too?

Thursday evening, I am at the computer reading the scoop on “John, the Bear Hunter,” my illustrious ancestor, and suddenly, the lights go out and the “ups” stays down and I’m in total darkness. “Aha,” says the little voice, “someone has cut your electric wires for calling the sheriff.” I can’t see a thing. I fumble around for my cell phone using it as a light to locate the flashlight. I can do this, I say to myself. I am not afraid of the dark…am I? God is with me. What was I reading about bear hunters…

Sneaking out the patio door and around the hot tub, I see flashing lights at the front of our property. I march out to see what’s up, brave soul that I am, and shine my light on electric company trucks. Heads turn and I see a man in a bucket at the top of an electric pole. He is fixing the wiring. They all stare tiredly at me and I realize I’m in my pajamas. I wave and return quickly to the house. The electric is restored and I go to bed.

Saturday and off to St. Pete where Alicia is competing in the regional Spelling Bee. On the way home, the fuel light indicates that we are low on gas. “No problem,” says my daughter, “we can go another fifty miles after the light.” Sitting along the roadside on a bladder-stretching wait for AAA to bring gasoline, I realize I haven’t eaten since 7:30 am and it is now 3:00 pm. I contemplate how to capture and cook the ducks I see swimming in the nearby pond.

Home at last, but tomorrow is Sunday and a full day of church activities. Monday my husband returns and I am ecstatic. At last, I can do whatever I want!

The Shepherdess Returns

2011-02-27T12:38:00.000-08:00

He MAKETH me to like down in green pastures…

He leadeth me beside the still waters…

he restoreth my soul.

For the past several months, I have been away from the flock, watching the sheep from another pasture, a pasture green with soft grass and quiet streams. The Shepherd constrained me to stay in the quiet pasture…alone. Even when I begged and pleaded to return to the flock, he compelled me stay, and then…he left me there. I was in “time out!” I waited impatiently for his return. Time passed and he did not come. During my isolation and loneliness, fear came to sit beside me. I send countless messages to the Shepherd to take me from this lonely place of fear and doubt and allow me to return to the flock.

When no answer came, I waited beside the still water somewhat petulantly. For the first time, I noticed that the grasses growing in the pasture were various shades of green, each blade possessing its own uniqueness and color. The endless assortment of herbs and flowers in the field soon fascinated me. I began taking pleasure in my surroundings, lying down in the tall grass and resting beside the still waters. The stream was kike a balm, but it was also like a mirror, reflecting my image on the calm surface. Looking into the depth of the stream, I could see myself, traveling at breakneck speed, forgetting to be quiet, to slow down, forgetting to notice that grass is not just a covering for the earth and that still waters run deep and hold fathomless beauty and serenity calming to the weary soul. After a time, the Shepherd returned and took me by the hand and returned me to the sheepfold. He maketh me to lie down in green pastures. He leadeth me beside the still waters, he restoreth my soul.

I am wiser now, peaceful, inspired, and restored. I choose carefully the things that are necessary to my life and those that are not. I take time for what is truly important; things that add peace and joy to my life, and I remember that all that I do is weighed in the just balance of work and worship. If I forget this all-important principle, the shepherd will place me in “time out” again and will make my lie down. He loves me so…he is the good Shepherd.

Gifts from the Shepherd...my Valentine

2011-02-14T17:01:00.000-08:00

THOUGHTS ON LOVE...VALENTINE'S DAY

2011-02-11T15:38:00.000-08:00

Some people come into our lives and quickly go. Some stay for a while, leave footprints on our hearts, and we are never, ever the same.

No distance of place or lapse of time can lessen the friendship of those who are thoroughly persuaded of each other's worth. ~Robert Southey

Can miles truly separate you from friends.... If you want to be with someone you love, aren't you already there? ~Richard Bach

Only in the agony of parting do we look into the depths of love. ~George Eliot

Love is missing someone whenever you're apart, but somehow feeling warm inside because you're close in heart. ~Kay Knudsen

The reason it hurts so much to separate is because our souls are connected. ~Nicholas Sparks, The Notebook

You and I will meet again
When we're least expecting it
One day in some far off place
I will recognize your face
I won't say goodbye my friend
For you and I will meet again
~Tom Petty

Goodbye to an old friend...

2011-02-04T12:39:00.000-08:00

Life is not so much about saying hello,

as saying goodbye

I read this quote recently and have been thinking about it ever since. I believe I understand the significance of these thought provoking words. In the past several months, I have been sorting through boxes of old photos and keepsakes, separating them into labeled boxes for my children to have someday. In all of this 40+ year collection, there are so many goodbyes…and truth be told, that is what life is mostly about. After all, whey does it take only a minute to say hello and forever to say goodbye? The hellos are fun and exciting. We embrace new challenges, meet new people, and form new and inspiring relationships. But oh, those goodbyes…

While perusing the memorabilia of an earlier period in my life, I found photos of old school and college friends, my extended family in every season and setting, ministry and church friends, even pets that I loved with childish devotion. One day, I said goodbye for the last time to many of them.

“Goodbye” is a rather sad word, a word we don’t like to say and a word we don’t like to hear. When our son leaves for his sometimes dangerous international job after a visit, I can only say, “I love you and take care,” but never do I say…goodbye.

I believe the goodbyes in life are preparing us for the heavenly world; a world where the word “goodbye” will have no relevance. This present world is so transitory, fleeting. More than ever, I am aware of my brief sojourn through this earthly life when I recall the many goodbyes said to family and friends. But we have a hope, steadfast and eternal in the heavens, a place where farewell will never be spoken.

Goodbyes are not forever.
Goodbyes are not the end.
They simply mean I'll miss you
Until we meet again!

May the road rise up to meet you, May the wind be ever at your back. May the sun shine warm upon your face and the rain fall softly on your fields. And until we meet again, may God hold you in the hollow of his hand.

A Celtic Blessing

Do not lose heart

2011-01-20T14:28:00.000-08:00

"Therefore we do not lose heart. Though outwardly we are wasting away, yet inwardly we are being renewed day by day."

2 cor 4:16

On the Carmichael Estates in Scotland, there is an ancient house sadly falling into ruin. It is hard to find someone to rent a twenty-room house and maintain such a dwelling, so the house sets empty in the quiet center of Carmichael. On our last visit to my ancestral home, I noticed this Bible verse on the side of the house, reminding those who visited there not to place their love and affection on earthly buildings that crumble with time or on our fleshly houses that are so very temporary, so very vulnerable to sickness and disease. Someday, both houses shall fall into ruin and decay, just like this lovely old home that once was the epitome of fashion; an edifice of stone and wood that rivaled the Chief's own dwelling.

But...we have a house in the heavens, a house not made with hands, a building that is our final and eternal home. While facing my own personal trial of affliction these past months, I felt keenly the need to remember: no matter what my circumstance in this life...it is temporary, fleeting, and my eternal home lies in the heavenly realm, a place where my spiritual house will stand forever. This is the hope of the righteous, the goal of all God’s children.

Another Year...Another Anniversary

2010-12-30T16:10:00.000-08:00

When 2010 arrived, it seemed like a nice even number to roll over your tongue. A new decade had arrived with new perspectives, new ideas, and for me, a new book, Sword of the wild Rose, coming out in April. Twenty-ten – it was fun to say the number. However, the year was not even a month old before an unexpected heartbreak stunned our lives. We went to our knees in prayer, wondering what had happened, what had gone wrong, and if we could have prevented the trial that left us reeling with doubt and confusion. During such dark moments, the age-old questions begin nibbling at our faith, seeking for answers that never come. Some circumstances that appear on the stage of our life clambering for a part, even demanding a starring role, must be left with God. Resolution to difficult situations is not always in our hands, not in our ability or our feeble efforts to resolve. At such times, I find comfort and solace in simple things, in simple pleasures; my home, my family, the five senses of nature, of touch and feel, of taste and smell, of music and words. Perhaps I seek simplicity because the uncomplicated appears less demanding, less threatening, and needs no clarification. I understand simple things. I am a simple person and I find enjoyment in the unsophisticated, the unpretentious. A crackling fire burning on the hearth is soothing and requires no mental effort to enjoy. I can hold my husband’s hand and feel his love, his devotion. I need no words to explain this. Love exists and simply is. When I cannot understand the complexities in my world, I know that God is able to handle the complicated issues; those thorny problems that only prick us and make new wounds when we try to untangle what is beyond our grasp, when we try to go beyond our reach.

Recently, during a particularly difficult day, my husband hung a wee sign from the chandelier above our dining room table. It read: “Meet me under the mistletoe.” How simple is that? How comforting is that? And…I know where I hung the mistletoe.

Lord, I am like to mistletoe,
Which has no root, and cannot grow
Or prosper but by that same tree
It clings about; so I by Thee.
What need I then to fear at all,
So long as I about Thee crawl?
But if that tree should fall and die,
Tumble shall heaven, and down will I.

Robert Herrick

CHRISTMAS AT TANGLEWOOD

2010-12-12T14:45:00.001-08:00

“For we know that if our earthly house of this tabernacle were dissolved, we have a building of God, an house not made with hands, eternal in the heavens.” KJV 2Co 5:1

Endings…

The world is round and the place which may seem like the end may also be the beginning.

~Ivy Baker Priest

Another year is drawing to a close and I feel sad. Just why this is, I don’t understand. But there is something poignant and emotional about endings…like coming to the end of a good book and reading those unwelcome words—The End, or waving goodbye as the family leaves after some special event, or even watching the sun sink slowly into the Gulf waters at the close of day. Something is over, something is lost, something has ended, never to be relived again.

I was thinking about “endings” last evening as I sat on the patio and watched the moon rise in the east, shedding streams of moonbeams over my garden while stars spanned the heavens in a glorious display of God’s handiwork. It was an unusually magnificent presentation. In that mystical way that God reveals Himself to us, I suddenly understood why God hesitates…why He waits…why He delays the Lord’s coming. He, too, must feel that same sadness, to bring about an end to the gospel day, a conclusion of those things familiar, those things we know and love, to bring the curtain down on His own creation, the work of His own hands. Something will be lost.

But then I remember…new beginnings spring from old endings, from the dust and the ash of wreck and ruin, of failure and hopelessness, a new year always begins, bringing hope for our distresses and dreams for the future. We find new courage to face tomorrow and another chance to get it right. We are challenged to try again, to believe again and to live again.

I understand more clearly now and know that when this present life is over and my earthly tabernacle crumbles into the dust, I will rise to a new day, a glorious day, a day filled with hellos and never a goodbye. By faith, I can see it afar, that wonderful day with only a beginning; a day with no ending.

Giving thanks...

2010-11-26T15:14:00.000-08:00

"Be ye thankful..."

2010-11-22T19:57:00.000-08:00

Autumn Blessings

2010-11-20T09:10:00.001-08:00

It only makes sense they arrived in the autumn, when harvest is sweet and pungent in the air, when the greens and golds, scarlets and purples clothe the earth.

FL Arts Council Awards Reception, 2010

2010-11-13T12:25:00.000-08:00

Before reward is defeat, before prominence, lowliness,

and before honor is humility

“And thou shall remember all the way which the Lord thy God has led thee these many years in the wilderness, to humble thee, and to prove thee, to know what was in your heart, whether you would keep his commandments, or no.

“…that he might humble thee, and that he might prove thee, to do thee good at thy latter end.”

De 8: - 2De 8:16

The Shepherdess wins an award...

“The Awards event was truly a night to remember…one of those thrilling times when the unexpected becomes a reality. I truly had no idea that I was being considered for this great honor. When Cheryl Kuck, chair person for the Arts Council phoned saying I had been chosen “Artist of the Year” for excellence in the arts, I felt certain there must be a mistake. Little did I realize that my writing and my involvement in teaching in our community would result in this award. I felt so blessed, so special. My prayer has always been that God would order my steps and guide me in the way I should go, to use me in a way that would honor Him through my writing. Surely, this is one of those surreal moments. “

Ruth Carmichael Ellinger

What I've Been Doing

2010-10-23T16:14:00.000-07:00

What I’ve been doing in October: Toured the OH area for two weeks doing book events for, Sword of the Wild Rose. The fall colors were spectacular with weather to match. Visited friends and family and attended the Fairfield CO Fair. Sat in the grandstand and watched the bands, reminisced, and walked through the horse barns. I love the smell of horse, hay, and sweaty leather.

What I need to do today: I need to do something with my hair and prepare for writing group tonight. Our writing prompt for October’s session of Brandon Christian Writers is: One dark night…(OOOOoooaaaahhhheee)

In the kitchen: I have some left over pork roast for pork tacos for and early dinner. An easy one to make so I can speed out the door to meet with my writing group.

What Wright is doing: Catching up around the yard, cleaning the spa, gardening – his favorite therapy.

I’m hearing: The air conditioner still running, music playing in the background, the door opening because Audry (my ten-year-old granddaughter) left her new little purse.

I’m learning: When the "illusion" in our mind crumbles and falls away, what remains is reality...the actual truth. Yes, it may not be what you imagined or what you dreamed it would be, but that does not change God, nor does it change His word, the crux and foundation of our faith. Loyalty, integrity, and trust in God are essential virtues when disillusionment becomes the tool of Satan to undermine our faith. Holding steady when illusion gives way to reality is where faith becomes what it is meant to be -- the substance of things hoped for and the evidence of things not seen.

I’m reading: Beloved Enemies by Al Lacy. A great Civil War novel that covers the onset of the war and the Battles of 1^st Manassas., A beautiful woman who is also a Confederate spy and the hunky Union soldier who falls in love with her supplies sufficient conflict against the backdrop of civil war. Beautifully crafted by Al Lacy and historically accurate. The romance is a little more than I like, but that is just me. A good read for those who love historic fiction and I do.

I’m Creating: an “organized looking” space in my writing are (large foyer of our home) for the Tampa Tribune reporter to take photos for the upcoming Brush Strokes awards reception. Yes, I was surprised and honored to be chosen as “Artist of the Year” 2010 by the Arts Council, Brandon FL. Yeah!

My favorite things in October: Autumn colors, my family, Wildrose Cottage in autumn, apples and pumpkin pie, Florida evenings, and fires in the fireplace again.

“Give it a Rest”

2010-09-16T15:02:00.000-07:00

There is a Place…

There is a place where you can always go, come with me,

Where it’s alright to let your feelings show, come with me.

What a pleasant journey, isn’t very far,

We can go together, stay right where you are

And now it’s time to start, it’s right here in your heart.

There is a place where you can be yourself, come with me,

And it’s a place where you can free yourself, come with me.

And you know it’s waiting, no so far away

Need no reservation, we can go today,

Now it’s time to start, it’s right here in your heart.

And the light shines through each window, and the door is open wide

And each question has an answer, if you’ll only look inside.

There is a place where every sorrow ends, come with me,

Where every hope and every truth begins, come with me

What a pleasant journey, isn’t very far,

We can go together, start right where you are,

Now it’s time to start, it’s right here in your heart.

….And now it’s time to start, it’s right here in your heart.

♥

“I have a problem…” I say sipping my coffee.

“What?” he asks sitting his cup down, giving me his full attention.

“I’m multi-tasking, stretching my limited time, and directing my energy into solving everyone else’s problems.”

“Oooo,” he says raising his eyebrows.

“I’m weary of teaching women how to set priorities, solve problems, manage time, how to mend and maintain relationships. I’m teaching others when I need to be managing these same issues myself.”

“I see,” he says.

“I need a rest, a break. You know, like…give me a break, give it a rest, and in fact, I think I’ll run away.”

“I know a place,” he says, “a place where we can both go, where we are free to rest.”

“Where?” I ask.

“Well, Jesus rested when he was weary. He found it necessary, so it’s not strange that you should feel the same way. He ran away too—all by himself.”

“I know, but that was different,” I say with a sigh.

“Not really,” he says, “in Exodus, God commanded His people to rest, the Sabbath—you know. And Jesus said in Mark 2:22, that the Sabbath was made for man and not man for the Sabbath. Not only that, He let people know that the thought of Sabbath was “rest” not rules.”

“Well, that’s obvious,” I say to my Shepherd husband, “since he broke so many Sabbath rules himself.” I feel a sermon coming on and I want a rest from that too.

He smiles, knowing what I am thinking. “In the Hebrew letter,” he continues, “the word Sabbath is from the Greek, shabbat, which means to cease, or to stop, to rest, if you will.”

“But I can’t stop to rest,” I protest“, my life is so full, I can’t take on anything else. In fact, I don’t think I can take anymore preaching either and I feel like that’s what you’re doing right now.” Guilt tugs at my heart and I see compassion in his green eyes.

“Time to empty out,” he says, “time to rest.”

After this conversation, I began to think about what my husband had said about emptying out, about resting. I wanted to find a resting place. After all, Jesus said He was our rest, our Sabbath.

I understand that life is more than work, money, and homes, all our earthly endeavors, all our lofty ambitions, our plans and strategies for the future. I know this in my head. By seeking the principle of rest in my life, I have learned some valuable lessons. I have learned to experience rest in my heart and spirit.

To truly rest from the labors of life, we must learn to restructure our lives around God, not ourselves. How easy it seems to take life into our own hands, make our own plans, then find that we cannot manage them. Therefore, it is essential to empty our vessel of those things that are filling our lives with our own doings and allow God to re-fill our lives with grace and beauty and joy. If we do not, life will be only an existence and no real life at all.

The Sabbath under Christ, the Lord’s day, is a day unto the Lord, an entire day, a small gift of time that we give back to Him who has given us six days to work and one day for Him. In doing so, we give ourselves the gift of rest from our earthly labors. (Exodus 20:10; Deuteronomy 5:14).

Under the law of Christ, the Jewish Sabbath is no longer observed as an ordinance or law, but that does not mean that we should not rest from all our distractions, our work, our daily routines. The principle of the Sabbath, or a day of rest should still be observed. Most Christians observe this practice on the Lord’s Day, the first day of the week—Sunday.

Sad to say, even the Sunday “rest” is slipping away from our modern society. The malls, the amusements, and almost every type of commerce is still conducted on Sunday. Our society has become lax in observing the principle of rest. Even our college students are taking tests on Sundays.

The principle of rest is sadly missing from our society and it is affecting our lives, our homes, our worship, and our attitudes toward God and His work.

In observing the principle of rest, we find delight in God, we renew our faith, find joy in living, happiness in simplicity. We become mare aware of our own dependency upon a Sovereign God and not on our own intellectual ability to work out our own lives according to our own plans.

To find this place of rest and our own personal “Sabbath,” we must first empty our vessel of those things that are choking our lives with meaningless and unproductive clutter. Some things are necessary, but if we consider our daily lives, we will find many things that can be eliminated. However, we must be willing to set them aside and to rid ourselves of those things, however dear, are in reality, unnecessary.

We must learn to stop and rest.

Busy people, workaholics, over achievers, perfectionists, and all un-restful and unfruitful, and unproductive lifestyle habits must cease, must stop, and some must permanently end. You know what brings you down, what keeps you from God, what keeps you from rest…unload it.

On this one day, empty yourself of all your concerns, all the things on your “to do” list, your household chores, your upcoming schedules and appointments. Turn off your cell phones, your computers, every distraction in your life. Just rest and worship, reflect and meditate. Allow God to pour into your vessel the life giving grace, joy, and peace, those things that keep us close to God. If we learn to do this, then we can manage well during the next six working days of the week.

Our personal rest can be a time to stop and “smell the roses,” to enjoy nature, our children, our parents. It can be a time to read for pleasure, to roam, to walk, to dream. Quiet the internal noise of life and learn to tune into God and hear His voice. Find a secret place, take a long nap, rest…rest…rest from your labors.

In learning to stop and rest for one day a week, you will find you are more energized, more creative, more the person God intended you to be. The principle of resting can do more for you than all the vitamin B-12 you can consume or all the caffeine you can drink. Give yourself a rest!

One little lamb...

2010-08-17T08:27:00.000-07:00

Before I left for Wildrose Cottage and my last book event of the summer, Mandy came to visit. We spent three glorious days on the beach on Long Boat Key, just Mandy, Papa, and me. It was a special time; a time I know will never come again, not in the same way. There may be other visits, other beaches, and other memories, but none quite like this one. I feel sad when I think of it, but I know this is the way of life, the way it must be.

Mandy is sweet sixteen, with taffy hair and brown eyes. Her voice is sweet, and her way is kind. She is at that magical age when girlhood is melting away like footprints left in the sand, disappearing with another wave. She is a woman-child, waiting…watching, looking into the golden sunset, wondering what life has in store for her.

God has a plan for her life and I’m thankful for a little part in that plan. I want to be there if she ever needs me. I was there when she drew her first quavering breath. I will never forget that night as long as I live. It was a wintry night, cold and snowing when she came into the world.

I remember too the look on Katherine’s face when first she held the baby in arms and peered into the tiny face. It was a look of love so profound that no artist could ever reproduce it. There was that instant connection, a bonding that in some unfathomable way, will last a lifetime and beyond, no matter what comes. I have felt that awesome, indescribable bond when my own babies were born. True, they may leave us in a physical sense, but that attachment which binds us together at birth, can never be broken.

The years come and go and we see God’s hand weaving the tapestry of our lives. One golden thread in our tapestry is Mandy, and we treasure the moments, the days she stopped by Tanglewood to visit us in her journeyto womanhood. We are blessed.

The Flock Moves to Higher Ground

2010-07-16T19:22:00.000-07:00

Davidson Trail

Ps 18:33 He maketh my feet like hinds' feet, and setteth me upon my high places.

Hab 3:19 The LORD God is my strength, and he will make my feet like hinds' feet,

and he will make me to walk upon mine high places.

CLIMBING...to higher ground

Davidson Trail

It was spring and the sheep had to be moved to higher ground, to a pasture on top of an abruptly rising hill. There, the grass was young, tender, and un-trodden, with a large and rolling pasture that stretched for miles. A spring bubbled from the side of a rock precipice to form a brook that ran the length of the high pasture and emptied into the valley below. It was a goodly place for the sheep.

The shepherd stood at the top of a small rise, explaining the necessity of moving to higher ground. His instructions to the flock were clear and concise, leaving no room for misunderstanding. He would lead the way himself and I, his shepherdess, would act as rear guard, following behind to insure the safety of the flock. Rear picket duty was not my favorite position, but quite often, I found myself in that particular situation and it was certainly not by choice. Nevertheless, the move lay ahead and was necessary for grazing during the summer months.

We left the next morning; sheep, shepherd, and shepherdess. From my position at the rear, I watched the wooly procession as the shepherd climbed steadily upward, his staff raised, his form silhouetted against the skyline, clearly visible to the entire flock. Now and then, he spoke, encouraging the flock as they climbed. Some of the sheep followed obediently, not looking back, staying close to the shepherd. Others bleated pitifully, not wanting to leave the old and familiar, but despite their complaining, they followed along steadily enough, bleating as they climbed. Others lagged behind as if to protest the move, until a sharp word from the shepherd changed their mind and hurried them along.

From my position in the rear, I shooed the dallying sheep forward, those who lingered just beyond sight of the shepherd, hoping to find some pleasure along the way. They were not opposed to the move, just fooling around, hoping to discover some new adventure. The curious youngsters stopped every few minutes to butt one another or hide from his comrade behind a thicket, not considering that danger that might lurk in the shadows of the dense undergrowth. Again and again I brought the careless sheep back to the main flock, scolding them soundly for their indifference to danger. When at last the stragglers and I arrived at the higher pasture, the main flock were romping in the tall grass, forgetting that they had ever grumbled and complained about the difficulties of the climb or of moving to higher ground. Surely, this was a goodly place to be.

Davidson Trail