Hello. My name is Heather, and I’m a Book Blogger.

I just wanted to write that to see how it looked. I’ve introduced myself in many ways, but never as a “book blogger.” Apparently, there are lots of us, tons of us in fact, who blog about books, and now there’s even a convention full of people who will be meeting together to discuss blogging about books.

Here are a few of the topics that will be presented:

* Professionalism/Ethics
* Marketing
* Author/Blogger Relationships
* Social Responsibility
* Writing/Building Content

I would love to be there, but since it’s May 28 in New York City, alas, I won’t. That’s the last day of school for us, and I’ll be busy loading up kids and the contents of their newly cleaned-out lockers.

If YOU would like to go, I hope you can, and I hope you have a great time. You can read all the details here. Admission to the Book Blogger Convention also allows you access to roam the celestial BEA (Book Expo America), which is billed as “the largest publishing event in North America.” Here’s a rundown of all the exciting events going on for children’s book authors, editors, publishers, agents, booksellers, and other people crazy about kid lit.

I would like to be a fly on the wall for the session entitled “Speed Dating with Children’s Authors” (for booksellers only).

One of my favorite places in the world is a red brick building on an emerald patch of heaven in Montgomery, Alabama.

I’d let the years slip by without visiting. Two decades. Like an old friend, I missed this little oasis of literature and decided to do something about it last fall.

I was supposed to be working on a Nanowrimo project, but things got rough. I took a breather and clicked over to the Alabama Shakespeare Festival website — when inspiration hit!

A play! Yes! The play’s the thing!

I discovered two upcoming Shakespeare plays, All’s Well That Ends Well and Hamlet. I chose “Hamlet” because there are so many famous quotes taken from this play — plus, I figured my son might like the sword-fighting scenes. My husband liked the idea and so we bought a few extra tickets for extended family to join us, (which made great Christmas presents!).

Then the waiting began. April seemed forever away — but finally the big date arrived. We headed down the highway to Montgomery … and a trip down memory lane for me.

When I was an English major at Auburn University, my professors took us to the Alabama Shakespeare Festival every quarter. I remember seeing tragedies “Romeo and Juliet” and “Julius Caesar,” and the comic “As You Like It.” It was such a treat to get away from dorm life and essay exams. I loved seeing the plays performed live on the stage.

I never imagined 20 years later, I’d be bringing my own family with me.

When we entered the theater, the room seemed hazy, as a smoke machine of some sort created an atmosphere of fog. Nearly every seat was filled, and I noticed rows and rows of teenagers.

We sat next to a group of kids, and I wondered if they were on a field trip. I struck up a conversation with their teacher who told me there were 60 students altogether, from a Christian school literary club in northeast Alabama.

The girl next to me wore blue jeans and smiled at me, popping gum and showing her braces. “I can’t wait for this to start,” she confided. “Our teacher told us all about it. I think Hamlet is going to be so cool.”

Behind us, a row of teens chatted and laughed, some texting on neon cell phones, others nodding in rhythm to unknown tunes from their ipods. I wondered if they would get Shakespeare. Would it seem too, you know, ancient for them?

The play began, and we were all spellbound.

Nathan Hosner’s portrayal of Hamlet was so realistic I don’t think you had to understand a single word to know what emotions he expressed. We held our breath as he soliloquized and felt our eyes water up at the tragedy.

We were the audience Shakespeare originally wrote for, the masses who sought escape from the sweat and toil of Elizabethan England.

I peeked at the girl next to me and the row of teens behind me. They were all leaning forward, perched on the edge of their seats, not a whisper among them. Over four hundred years after this play was written, we were still totally enthralled.

At the intermission, I overheard a girl behind me say, “When are they all gonna start getting killed? I thought everybody dies in this play.”

“It’s coming up,” somebody answered.

And of course, in the end, the tragedy unfolds with devastating consequences. We left, pondering how it all happened, what Hamlet should have done differently, why revenge isn’t the best course of action, etc.

In the program, Dr. William Engel explained:

Part of why this play remains so popular is its fearless examination of human nature. It explores, among other things, authentic responses to grief and mourning, the uncertain line between sanity and madness, the stresses of dating and marriage, and the pressures of living up to parents’ expectations.

Shakespeare spoke to all of us that evening, whether we dressed up in coat and tie or donned our favorite blue jeans. I can’t wait to go back again.

As an added bonus to our trip, we swung by Auburn on the way home, my first time back in 15 years. It’s the place where I learned to love the lines of Shakespeare, and where a whole new generation is reading him now.

Samford Hall, Auburn University

I took my daughter to see “The Last Song” a few days ago, mainly because I wanted to see it. I had been asking her for days, “Has anybody at school talked about seeing the new Miley Cyrus movie?” but she said all they’re talking about is Letters to God, which was produced by the same people who gave us “Facing the Giants” and “Fireproof.” OK, so that one’s next on my list.

But I had to see Miley in The Last Song — for two reasons. First, it was filmed in my home state, Georgia! On top of that, in one of my favorite places, on the beaches of beautiful Tybee Island. From what I’ve read, Georgia fought long and hard against North Carolina to be the setting for this movie — so I can’t help but give a little rebel yell at our victory (though you can see here that I love North Carolina too!).

The second reason I wanted to see “The Last Song” is because I’m intrigued by the whole Nicholas Sparks’ aspect. Here’s a best-selling author who wrote a screenplay first with a specific actress in mind, then turned the script into a novel. This seems backwards to the way most films work, so I found that interesting. It reminds me of the rumor I heard that John Grisham wrote “The Pelican Brief” with actress Julia Roberts in mind. You can read more of the story here and on Nicholas Sparks’ website.

I can honestly say we weren’t disappointed. Although critics have poked fun at Miley’s acting, I thought she was wonderful. Give her a break — she’s only 17! She made me laugh — the first half of the movie has some hilarious scenes, especially when Miley/Ronnie meets her beach beau’s parents for the first time.

I think Nicholas Sparks must have had fun writing this scene. Miley and co-star Liam Hemsworth have been slinging mud at each other trying to get his truck out of the marsh. They’re filthy and run back to his house to hose off. Except … his house is a GIGANTIC southern plantation, recognizable to those of us from Georgia; it was filmed at Wormsloe Historic site, in Savannah.

Miley stares up at the live oaks, dripping in Spanish moss, as they pull into his “driveway.” She’s shocked. After all, this guy has been bugging her the whole movie, until he finally convinces her to go out with him.

When she gets out of the truck, her mouth drops open and she says something like, “I didn’t know you were so rich!” This line surprised me and struck me as absolutely hilarious because one of my kids said that recently to a classmate, when we visited her large home for a swim party. The movie is full of good lines like this that make it fun to watch.

And there are baby loggerhead sea turtles, oh so cute! Miley is trying to protect a nest of turtle eggs from an evil lurking raccoon, and she gets a little help from Liam, who just happens to be a volunteer with the nearby aquarium. (aw, sweet. Yes, you girls will think that when you see him in his uniform.) We happen to be big Georgia sea turtle fans and look forward to visiting the Georgia Sea Turtle Center on Jekyll Island every year.

The title of the movie comes from a classical piano piece Miley’s father is composing for her. (Don’t think about this too much, or it will spoil the plot.) When the film begins, Miley is an angry teenager, coming down from New York to spend the summer with her dad, who left the family. She’s a former child piano prodigy — we see newspaper clippings of her playing as a youngster. Moreover, she’s been accepted to Juilliard, if she chooses to go. But in the beginning of the movie, she’s too rebellious and mad at the world. She won’t even go anywhere near the piano.

As the film continues, Miley/Ronnie begins to connect again with the piano as an instrument of healing. Since I’m the mom of two daughters taking piano lessons, I enjoyed this aspect. My daughter and I both found Miley’s piano performances to be inspiring. In fact, after watching the movie, my daughter came home and right away sat down at the piano to practice. The music is really beautiful in this movie.

In the opening credits, I knew I was in for a treat, when I saw that Miley’s mother, Tish Cyrus, was the executive producer. Wow. How many actresses star in a film produced by their mom? Go Tish! In this article, I read that the plot of the film is similar in many ways to the life of Tish Cyrus, so Miley’s acting allowed her to experience many of the same painful emotions her mom had been through.

If you go anywhere near a Wal-mart, which I must do frequently to keep our supplies of stuff replenished, you will be familiar with Miley’s autobiography, Miles to Go.

Read it. I enjoyed it. It’s well-written and full of hope. She has a great voice. I don’t know if she had help writing the book (the title page says “with Hilary Liftin”), but it takes you into the mind of a teenager, one who is trying desperately to find her place in the world and not lose track of her rural Tennessee roots. In fact, she asked Nicholas Sparks to name his novel’s main character Ronnie after her grandfather (whom she calls “Pappy” in her book).

Miley Cyrus is not too much older than my daughters, and I guess I don’t want her to grow up. I want her to still act in films that I can take my children to see. We all enjoyed the “Hannah Montana” movie, though “The Last Song” is not appropriate for kids under 9, I feel, because there are some romantic scenes, and the plot is too heavy for the hearts of little ones.

Although she doesn’t sing any during the movie (except for a brief sing-a-long in the car where Liam’s awful crowing drowns her out), Miley Cyrus’ song, “When I Look at You” does play a part at the end. As I listened to it, watching the credits, I had to wipe away my tears, like the other moms around me.

We walked out of the dark theater and back into the Georgia sun, which was just beginning to set. Without a word, I searched around until I found our Miley CD, tuned to that song, and drove off with a sigh. I wish we could have driven straight to Tybee Island, but I had to head home to cook supper and oversee the bedtime routines of five kids.

You can hear her sing it here, with these opening lyrics, which tie in perfectly to the plot of the movie.

Everybody needs inspiration
Everybody needs a song
A beautiful melody
When the nights are long

’cause there is no guarantee
That this life is easy

Yea when my world is falling apart
When there’s no light
To break up the dark
That’s when I
I look at you

After seeing the movie, I’m already plotting a trip to Tybee. I must see the church which was built on-site for the movie. Any of my Georgia friends up for a summer road trip?

Our family spent spring break visiting Asheville, North Carolina, and it turned out to be somewhat of a literary tour for me. As always, I’m drawn to anything related to books, and so I wanted to share with you my fascination with George Washington Vanderbilt’s astonishing library in his former personal home, Biltmore Estates.

The library contains over 10,000 books, although we learned that Vanderbilt’s original collection contained over 23,000 volumes. He was an avid reader and book collector, and our tour guide said Vanderbilt was once known as “the best read man in America.” Wouldn’t you have loved being one of his guests? Biltmore is known as the largest home in America, with over 250 rooms, including 43 bathrooms. (My children were particularly interested in that detail because we all have to share in our house. No fair.)

I was completely in awe, and my oldest daughter and I had to tour the house two days in a row to make sure we didn’t miss anything. If you have a chance to visit, I highly recommend that you spend the extra $10 to listen to the audio tour. It’s worth every penny if you love stories, and Biltmore is a home full of stories! We especially loved hearing tales about the lavish banquets and house parties. The house originally opened in 1895 for a Christmas Eve party.

Behind the library’s chimney, on the second floor, is a secret door and passageway which Vanderbilt designed for the use of his guests. This allowed them to slip downstairs, perhaps in their nightcaps, and select a bedtime book to read without having to descend the grand spiral staircase in the center of the home. How thoughtful!

Many of Vanderbilt’s guests were writers, including Henry James and Edith Wharton. On the ceiling is a painting by Venetian artist Pellegrini, entitled, “The Chariot of Aurora.” I really could have spent a week in that one room alone, though of course visitors aren’t allowed to touch any of the books. Still, what a place to dream.

Our second literary stop came as a bit of a surprise because I got so caught up in the glory of Biltmore and the Blue Ridge mountains, I didn’t do enough research before the trip.

While there, we discovered that Asheville is the homeplace of author Thomas Wolfe, whose famous novels include Look Homeward Angel, Of Time and the River, The Web and the Rock, and You Can’t Go Home Again. I haven’t read any of these books, but I’ve now got Look Homeward Angel on reserve at the library because I’m so curious as to what caused such a stir in Asheville when it was first published in 1929. It was autobiographical, based on his life in a boarding house called “Old Kentucky Home,” where he lived with his mom and their boarders (pictured below).

We visited the Thomas Wolfe Memorial, which showed a wonderful short movie about his life, as well as exhibits that included Wolfe’s desk and typewriter from his apartment in New York. I was struck by how uncomfortable his chair looked, imagining him sitting there for hours a day, composing his novels and short stories. His editor, Max Perkins at Scribner, also worked with Hemingway and F. Scott Fitzgerald.

We were sad to learn that Wolfe died 18 days short of his 38th birthday — so he got all his life’s work done by age 37. Amazing. I found it interesting to note that Thomas Wolfe was born in 1900, the same year Cornelia Vanderbilt was born at Biltmore, only daughter of George and Edith Vanderbilt. (She had quite a big house to ramble around in.)

Having fun yet? OK, our last stop on this brief literary tour of Asheville is only a temporary one. We visited the CLIFFORD THE BIG RED DOG exhibit at the Health Adventure Museum at Pack Place. If you have kids, you must visit this museum, especially on a rainy day (like we did). We spent about four hours in that place, all thoroughly entertained. My older kids and husband spent the entire time upstairs in the Mindbender Mansion doing all sorts of brainy exercises, while my 5-year-old daughter and I hung out with Clifford.

What fascinated me most about Clifford is that I never thought much about Clifford as a character in literature. Yet there was a small exhibit about the book’s author, Norman Bridwell, and I’ll never look at those books the same again. His first Clifford book was published in 1962, and there are now over 160 titles in the series, with over 100 million copies in print. I think I’d consider him a successful author!

My kids, at various times, have all loved the Clifford books, and his big red dogness has helped me many times keep my eyelids propped open during late night story reading. We enjoyed watching a little movie about Norman Bridwell, who is an older man now, talking about how his drawings came to life. The setting for the Clifford books is the island of Birdwell, based on the author’s home at Martha’s Vineyard. PBS created the television series based on the books in 2000. Any parent of a preschooler will be able to recognize the sound of Clifford’s theme song coming on TV. (That’s when we all jump in the shower, right?)

I entered the world of Clifford and spent a happy time playing with my daughter, who will one day tell me she’s too old for Clifford books. I know this because it’s already happened with my four older kids.

Traveling with five children is an experience itself. My husband and I like to use the term “educational field trip” because the vacation really begins once the trip is over. But it was worth it.

I hope you enjoyed my little tour. I think I’m out of breath now.

Author Kristi Holl recently returned from a fabulous ten-day trip to England, where she visited the home of Jane Austen in Chawton. I’m always in awe of the places where authors pen their great works, so I loved Kristi’s picture and description of Austen’s writing desk.

She writes:

I was struck by the contrast between her small desk, just big enough for her paper and ink well, and my two desks back home covered with computers, printers, books, notebooks, and assorted junk. Jane had no shelves of how-to writing books, no writing room of her own, no Internet or cell phone.

If you love Jane Austen, you must read Kristi’s post here.

And if you’re a mother trying to balance your creative life with a desire to write, you’ll be encouraged by this interview with prolific author, Karen O’Conner.

A few weeks ago, I wrote that my one goal for this new year is to bring more beauty into my world. I think my soul is truly starving for beauty. Even though I’m surrounded by God’s creation, I haven’t been actively pursuing it as a way of life.

Since writing that goal here, I’ve somehow found the courage to do something I’ve always wanted to do, but been afraid. I’ve signed up for a beginner watercolor painting class for adults!

We met for the first time last week, and I had so much fun. It was all I could do to keep my mouth shut and stop interviewing the teacher and other students! They’re people like me, stepping out to try something new, something scary. Yet even our teacher admitted that she began painting in her adult years, as a way to work through a period of grief in her life.

I remember many years ago, my mom came to visit me while I was teaching in Japan, and we spent a wonderful day hiking on the island of Miyajima, off the coast of Hiroshima. It was a gorgeous April day, and the pink cherry blossoms were in full bloom, looking like puffs of cotton candy dotted throughout the island. As we sat down on a bench near a temple, we noticed a lady dabbing watercolors onto small, postcard-size art paper.

When we remarked on the beauty of her paintings, she smiled and said, “I give them to you.” And she did! She gave us several of her lovely scenes, which I’ve always treasured. The red of the temple, pink of the cherry blossoms, and blue of the sea are now forever etched in my memory.

Lately, I’ve been overwhelmed by the beauty of white church steeples set against the pine trees and sunsets. Our yellow jonquils are blooming like mad all over our front yard. Yesterday, I was driving my kids to school and I almost had to pull off the road when I saw several rows of yellow jonquils set against the backdrop of a bright red barn. The scene was so gorgeous I could hardly breathe!

I’m not really sure what I hope to accomplish in taking this painting class. (Mainly, it’s just an opportunity to give myself a break from housework!) Yet, already I’m finding myself more aware of color, of details and shadows. Maybe this will someday work its way into my writing.

An artist looks for a story to paint with color; a writer looks for a story to paint with words.

I woke up early this morning to plan out my calendar for the week, and I felt a degree of sadness that we’ll soon be saying goodbye to the glorious month of October.

I’ve finally realized this is my favorite month of the year.

Our weather has been crisp but not cold. Today was the first day I sent all my children off to school in sweaters — and we’ve finally pulled their long-sleeve uniform shirts off the shelf.

We’ve spent the past few weeks doing so many fun things as a family — going on hayrides, visiting pumpkin patches, and attending fall carnivals.

Over the weekend, I helped out at a couple of booths at the fall festival at my children’s school. I had signed up to help with the second-grade ring toss, but when I arrived, the game had been changed to “bean spitting.” I’ve never participated in such an activity before!

We had a large plastic container of uncooked lima beans, and the bean spitter had to spit across a certain mark, according to age, in order to win one of our fabulous prizes — which included stuffed animals, silly string, rhinestone jewelry, and foam swords. Several of the dads enjoyed this game, and one told me that he used to be good at spitting tobacco juice between his teeth onto a brick wall in high school. He also told me his mama raised five boys and wouldn’t take a lick of nonsense from any of them.

Have you ever spit an uncooked lima bean any distance before? I tried it because I had my eye on winning a stuffed poodle for my daughter, but it’s harder than it looks! I could only spit as far as the seven-year-old mark — so perhaps I should go out in our backyard and practice. Who knows? Maybe we’ll have a nice crop of lima beans next spring.

We’ve somehow managed to keep our kids’ focus away from Halloween this month. I’ve hung an autumn wreath on our front door, and we’ve got pumpkins all over the house, but no spooky stuff. Our children’s schools have been wonderful this year about celebrating autumn and not Halloween. The halls and classrooms are decorated in pumpkins, colorful leaves, squirrels, owls, corn, and scarecrows. We do have a preschool costume parade this week, but the school doesn’t allow scary costumes — so the kids just have fun dressing up as heroes or princesses.

We took several trips this month as a family — taking advantage of the weather. We attended our state’s agricultural fair for the first time, where some friends of ours were showing their lambs. The weekend before last, my husband and I helped chaperone a school field trip to Charleston, and my daughter and I enjoyed an absolute thrilling ride in a horse and buggy. I think I’ve left part of my heart in Charleston, South Carolina.

The older I get, the more I enjoy taking historic tours and learning all the intimate details of a place. I even took notes during our horse and buggy tour, thinking of stories I’d like to write taking place in Charleston.

We also visited Ft. Sumter, where the first shot was fired that began the War Between the States (not to be called the Civil War, I was told, as “there was nothing civil about that war!”) We enjoyed a fascinating self-tour of the Yorktown aircraft carrier, which was used during WWII in the Pacific. My mind was on complete overload, scribbling notes and asking questions to the retired veterans who I met there.

Now, with November just around the corner, we begin sliding into the holidays. My calendar is already too full — and I’m beginning to wonder how we’ll juggle everything, while still trying to teach our children to be thankful for the simple gifts God has given us.

I hope you’re doing well. I know some of you aren’t so interested in my journey through Beth Moore’s Daniel study, but it’s all I can keep up with for now. I can’t wait to write my next post about it!

Thanks for continuing to read here — I wish you a wonderful November ahead!

A very dear friend of mine adopted two little boys from Russia, and she is constantly keeping me up to date on ministries that are actively involved with Russian orphanages.

Before she adopted her sons, she made several trips to Russia, walking the halls of the overcrowded orphanages and seeing the beautiful children in desperate need of “forever families.”

She recently sent me a letter from the director of TEAR, which stands for The Evangelistic Association of Russia. I was shocked to learn that there are over 2,000 orphanages in Russia, accommodating over 1.5 million children! “Sadly, current statistics suggest that 97% of all Russian orphans have no place to go upon graduation from the orphanage. Despite their efforts to avoid it, many orphans are recruited by the Russian mafia and enslaved in prostitution and drug trafficking.”

Why are there so many orphans? According to TEAR, the population in Russia is “declining at an alarming rate because working age adults are dying from alcoholism and a failed health care system.”

What TEAR hopes to do is to find 2,000 churches who would be willing to “adopt” an entire orphanage. The arm of this ministry is called ROCK, which stands for Reaching Orphan Children for the Kingdom. What will this require?

“The partnering church or (TEAR’s ROCK Partner), will then send short-term mission teams into the orphanage to minister to the children and adults that so desperately need God’s love and our help. The TEAR ministry will enable these teams by providing governmental approval, translation resources, visas, and logistics support.”

I went to Moscow on a short-term mission trip with my church in the early 90s. It was in January, and the weather was frigid, but the warmth of the people was unlike anything I have ever experienced.

We ate dinner one night in the home of a Russian family, who were so generous, they gave me a hardback poetry book right off their bookshelf. Even now, I still own that book, and it reminds me to pray for the Russians. When my mother visited Russia several years ago, she had a similar experience. A family gave her a painting right off their wall, which now hangs in her kitchen!

I don’t use my blog as a place to make general public service announcements, but I feel compelled to share this with you all, since I’ve seen first-hand TEAR at work through my personal, real-life friend. God even allowed our family the privilege of watching her eldest Russian son be baptized, after he shared that he wanted to invite Jesus to live in his heart.

Here is my question for you today: what are you doing to build up God’s kingdom that will last into the next generation? If you’re not directly influencing the life of a child, what are you DOING with your time that is of lasting importance?

Jesus said, “Let the little children come to me, and do not hinder them, for the kingdom of heaven belongs to such as these” (Matthew 19:14).

We started our new Beth Moore Bible study at church last week, and I’m so excited. At last, I’ve found a new direction for this blog, something I’ve prayed about all summer. Instead of popping in daily to chat like I’ve done the past two years, my plan now is to write a weekly devotional reflecting on what I’ve learned. I hope you’ll join the journey with me!

We’re studying Daniel. If you’ve gone through this before, what did you think? If you’d like to join me here through watching the DVD and studying on your own, that would be great. Let’s go!

********************

Looking Back
In my early 20s, I went to live in Japan to teach English. I worked for a Japanese Christian church and stayed with a Japanese family my first year there.

After living overseas for about six months, I began to wonder what my next step should be. Did God want me to spend the rest of my life in Japan, as a single career missionary and teacher? If so, why did I have such a strong desire to get married and have children? Did He want me to come home and work or go back to school?

As I began to pray deeply about this matter, a certain school came into my mind. I sent off for information about this school, a Bible college near my home state, which offered several programs for graduate students. (This is before we could research online!)

When the packet from the school arrived, I tore open the manila envelope and gazed longingly at the glossy pictures inside. Young men and women sitting under trees, Bibles open, intensely studying the Word of God. My heart beat faster thinking how wonderful it would be to delve into Hebrew and Greek, gaining a greater understanding of the Bible’s original languages. I couldn’t imagine anything more exciting than going to this school!

Yet when I looked into the cost of tuition, I didn’t see how I could pay for it. I didn’t want to ask my parents for money, and I didn’t feel like I had anything unique to offer to apply for a scholarship. I was just one of thousands of confused 20-somethings, wondering what the next step of my life should be.

So instead of applying to this Bible college, I decided to stay in Japan another year and work on saving money. I shifted my schedule around, allowing me to take on a few higher-paying teaching jobs, and I visited a Japanese university that offered an Asian studies program for foreign students.

Based on my application and interview, this school offered me a teaching assistantship so my tuition was paid for. It was an incredible opportunity. God allowed me to go to school – just like I’d prayed for! But instead of studying the Bible on an American campus, I was studying Japanese culture, art, history, and language at a university in Japan.

Taking the Next Step
By the time I felt sure God was leading me back to the U.S. I was engaged to be married in a few months (another long story.) Our first year of marriage, I attended graduate school full-time (along with my husband), and I worked two jobs to help pay for it – writing articles for the campus newspaper and working in marketing for the university publisher.

Years later, I’m at LAST able to study the Bible intensely like I’ve always dreamed of. Instead of sitting under trees on a gorgeous campus in my early 20s, I’m now in my late 30s, a busy mother and wife, studying on my kitchen table and in a classroom at church. I watch my teacher on video, a dynamic Texan woman who makes me laugh and cry with her powerful testimony.

Instead of serving God on an overseas mission field, here I am, blogging away. Some of you are reading this on a computer thousands of miles from me. Hello! Bonjour! Konnichiwa! Guten Tag! Within the walls of my own home, I have five little souls who hear me share the excitement daily. Lord willing, I want to raise a new generation of Daniels!

Everyone says you get out of Bible study what you put into it. This would be a very shallow experience if I only went to the meetings, sat through the videos, then did nothing on my own. What makes this study so rich is the one-on-one time I spend with the Holy Spirit, as I encounter Him, my Teacher, in my individual devotional time.

In the introduction to Daniel, Beth Moore says, “If The Patriarchs was a camel ride, this one … is a rocket ride — with the windows open.” She later writes, “The wind of the Holy Spirit blows so hard through some of these scriptures, you may have to re-fix your hair.”

Ready to Blast Off!
Years and years have gone by since I first prayed, “Lord, please open the doors for me to study Your Word!” The past decade I’ve spent bearing and nursing children has consumed me and kept me so physically exhausted, I’ve had to prop my eyelids open to study.

And to be honest, I’ve never made it through a whole Beth Moore study intact – I’ve always gotten overwhelmed with the busy-ness of life, sick children who’ve kept me at home and away from the fellowship, and distractions.

Will you pray for me? I’m starting out with such dreams of completing all the homework and attending every session for the next 12 weeks. My life is so hectic right now — yet I don’t want to give up on this!

Connecting Hearts
What are you going through now? Are you able to get some Bible study in, somehow, someway? Ask God to open up your schedule so that you can. You’ll impact every person who comes into contact with you. This is truly exciting!

Lord, as moms, we’re busy women. We’re tired! We can’t get up early like we want to because we were up late last night feeding the baby or nursing the sick. We wake up in the morning and face mountains of laundry and piles of dishes. Our to-do list includes everything but spending time with you. Help us, Lord! Give us energy and time. Deepen our joy and longing to spend time with you. Amen.

It’s hard to believe, but school will be out soon. While I love having my kids home more, I also know I’ll go crazy if we don’t have any plans. The phrase, “Mom, I’m bored,” strikes terror in my heart. So I’ve signed them up for a few camps.

My Mom Taxi will be on the go as I transport children to dance camp, art camp, overnight Christian camp, VBS, and grandma camp. We’ll also become regulars at the library’s mid-week storytime, when the summer reading program kicks into full swing.

And with our sweltering Georgia summers, I’ll be around water as much as possible. For our family, this means we buy a three-month family pass to the city pool — and we never turn down invitations from friends who bravely invite us to swim at their private pools.

During all this summer planning, I let myself daydream for a minute. Wouldn’t it be nice if there were a summer camp for moms? Ah … Mommy Camp. What would that be like?

First of all, we wouldn’t have to do anything if we didn’t want to. This is a camp where all activities are optional. If we’re totally exhausted, we can keep the curtains closed and just sleep in. Of course, the rooms are luxurious, with whirlpool tubs and the softest sheets imaginable.

After a day or two of sleeping in (interrupted only by room service bringing us gourmet meals), we might be recovered a bit. We’d then begin to dine together on a balcony overlooking the sea and mountains. Soft breezes would gently flow around us, keeping us cool. The balmy salt air would moisturize our skin, so that we’d begin to look and feel like teenagers again.

We’d meet together a few times to listen to a motivational speaker tell us how wonderful we moms (and grandmoms) are, how difficult yet important the role of mothering is, and how much the next generation is blessed by us. After that, we’d be set free to do whatever we wanted.

Some of us would change into hiking clothes and trek up the mountain, led by an entertaining guide who regales us with witty stories about our natural surroundings. Others of us would change into swimsuits and grab the novel we never have time to read and go lie out in the sun by the sea. We’d alternate between sleeping and reading — with no worries about keeping our eye on small, wandering children.

Later in the afternoon, a private fitness coach would meet with us and give us an individual workout, targeting our problem areas. Then we would be offered a full spa treatment — including body massage, facial, pedicure, and anything else we liked.

At some point during this camp, which lasts at least two weeks, we’d receive a complete makeover: new hairstyle, makeup, and an entire wardrobe!

To ensure that we had plenty of time to relax, we would only check email or answer our cell phones once a day, for an hour or less. Everyone would KNOW that Mommy is at Mommy Camp and needs some time to rest.

Oh yes, and this camp would be completely free of charge! It would be paid for by advertisers who provide us with the food, spa treatments, and makeovers — hoping that we’ll enjoy their products so much we’ll tell others about them. (No pressure, of course.)

Would you care to join me at Mommy Camp? I think, after two weeks, our batteries would be recharged to jump back into hectic daily living. And we’d always have that mental oasis in our minds — a place to retreat during our stress.

Seriously, where do you go when you’re feeling overwhelmed? Here’s where I’ve found the most peace: from the words of Jesus, who says, “Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened and I will give you rest” (Matthew 11:28). Christ longs to have a relationship with us if we’ll trust Him — and let Him carry our heavy motherload.

(c) Heather Ivester

This column was originally published in the April 2007 issue of West Georgia Ladies & Men magazine.