Words Matter

Words are gifts. A scowl on a face can depict displeasure. A happy, open smile can denote joy. Eyes can express kindness, cruelty, amazement, frustration. But the gift of words can reach deep inside a person and share hidden secrets.

Writers love words. They spend hours crafting them into intriguing combinations to express what they want to say. Dirty socks and toilets produce odors. A honeysuckle bloom wafts fragrance into the air. Neighborhood homes in the evening spice up the air with the aroma of cooking. Scent, smell, odor, aroma, fragrance, perfume and whiff all describe permeating the atmosphere and engaging the nose—but which words are exactly right to transport the reader to the realm the writer is attempting to create?

Telling a friend that you love her summer dress generates a different response than saying, “My aunt Gladys had a dress like that. She wore it when she got too fat for the rest of her clothes.”

Words matter.

Fiction authors know they must capture their readers in the opening words of their books to keep them. One of my favorite openings in my cozy mysteries (except my work-in-progress and not-released-yet which I can’t share) is the following from “Body from the Sky Murder.”

“Dang,” Hooter said, swiping manicured fingertips through her purple hair with the green underlay, “I declare but what this one ain’t too young for sex.” I looked up startled and saw her waving half of a green bell pepper over the kitchen sink, a tiny baby pepper sheltering inside. My laugh was cut short by the horrific crash outside her house. Metal screeched beyond the kitchen walls. On our side, dishes sheltering in cabinets clattered. Hooter tossed the pepper aside and the two of us rushed to her front door. Crumpled aluminum awning partially blocked the exit. “Rik,” she huffed, “I’m too big. See if you can squeeze through this mess and see what’s going on.”I complied. “Hooter…what’s going on is a body from the sky that landed on your roof.”

The opening for that book was birthed when I cut into a green pepper and was delighted to find a perfectly formed tiny green pepper inside. Words created the book. Words allow people to read it.

Words matter.

Since words matter, shouldn’t we use kind, gentle words when speaking to others? Using words that encourage shows respect for them—and respect for words. Angry, condemning words foment bitterness. Gentle words bloom with the fragrance of honeysuckle vines. The choice is ours.

As always, the most enduring words in the world are found in the Bible, God’s Word. “A man has joy by the answer of his mouth, and a word spoken in due season, how good it is.” Proverbs 15:23.

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Little Things

Because I was born in Texas, I grew up with the axiom that everything in Texas is bigger. I believed it.

At that time, Texas was the largest state in the U.S. When President Eisenhower signed a proclamation admitting Alaska to the U.S. in 1959, replacing Texas as the biggest state—I actually cried. I fiercely told family and friends that when all the ice melted in Alaska, Texas would be the biggest state again. And I believed that too.

Some things that are bigger are better—like the bigger slice of chocolate cake and the bigger chocolate candy bar. As I’ve grown older, I’ve come to appreciate bigger pullovers and T-shirts. Or perhaps I need them? And I’ve always preferred bigger dogs.

But sometimes it’s the little things that make us smile. Here in Scotland with unending grey skies and the colors of summer falling like the constant mist and rain and bleeding away into memories—it was a small thing that made me smile. One purple clover bloom in a vast green sea of grass.

I hate cold. I hate getting cold. I hate winter. Snow holds no appeal to me no matter how much ugly and blight it paints out of sight with virgin whiteness. Snow is cold. I hate cold.

So even with cold stealing over the land like a furry nighttime thief, the one purple bloom made me smile.

Isn’t it marvelous that a great and Mighty God like ours—a God who stretched out the vastness of space, created the weightiness of Earth and the planets and made Texas…took time to make little things as well. Tiny insects, sugar gliders, finger monkeys, pygmy possums, hummingbirds, starfish, seahorses, hedgehogs, hummingbirds, chameleons, turtles—and a host of other things that would take days to list. And fragile, colorful flowers. Even a small purple bloom.

“When I consider Your heavens, the work of Your fingers, the moon and the stars, which You have ordained, what is man that You are mindful of him?” (Psalm 8:3)

And what is a little purple bloom that coaxes smiles on a wet and rainy day?

Amazon.com: Stephanie Parker McKean: Books, Biography, Blog, Audiobooks, Kindle

Like A Tortoise

No wonder a 150-year-old tortoise can have babies. They don’t watch the news.

When fear confronts a tortoise it pulls its head into its shell and makes the world go away.

When danger confronts a tortoise it pulls its head into its shell and rests in the safety of its shell. A tortoise shell can withstand the pressure of 200 times its weight.

Tortoises could have coined KISS…Keep it Simple Stupid. They have one answer for every hazardous circumstance in their lives. Ignore it. Don’t focus on it. They even bury their eggs in the ground.

Abide in God. Focus on Jesus. I can’t promise that you will have children at age 150—but you will have a depth of peace and joy that outward circumstances can’t steal.

“And let the peace of God rule in your hearts.” Colossians 3:15

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I Wish I Had Known

When I took pictures for son Luke’s baby book I thought I was making a book of memories for me. The memories fell short. Time flew past relentlessly—as time does. My purse got snatched. The camera was in it. Work on the baby book ended. As a single parent, there was never enough extra money to buy another camera. Luke loved his baby book. He never got tired of looking through the pages and reading the things I had written to him and about him. When he left for heaven seven years ago—the baby book lived at his house. I wish I had known how important it was to my son. I would have found a way to take more pictures and made time to write more memories. I wish I had known.

When Luke called in early November 2013, and asked if I could join him for Christmas, I wish I had said “yes” immediately. Instead, I hesitated. I was in Scotland. He was in North Carolina. I would be leaving a husband and a dog behind. Even over the phone and in spite of all the miles that separated us—I could feel the hurt my non-answer caused. I wish I had known that he would leave this earth for heaven just a few weeks later. My immediate “yes” would have blessed us both, even though Luke didn’t have Christmas on earth that year. I wish I had known.

When I called Luke on Saturday, November 26, 2013, and got his voice mail saying he would be out of town the next day—I wish I had called back. His plane went down the next day and he flew out of my reach and straight into the arms of Jesus. I wish I had known.

My “wish I had knowns” list is long. I wish I had known how important spelling was when I was in school. Computers have spell checks—but my spelling is sometimes so whacky that the spell check goes, “Huh?” Then I hold the torn cover and loose pages of my dictionary and thumb through the letter section for the word I want because it is simply the best word and the only word that will work. Writers are like that. We wrap words and phrases around us, spin them into an inky cocoon, and live inside them. You may have guessed. I misspelled “cocoon,” but it was close enough that the spell checker managed. The frustrating thing about looking up a word in my fragmented dictionary is that if I don’t get the first two letters right—I must go word by word, page by page, until I find it. And on rare occasions, it doesn’t even start with the letter I thought it did. I wish I had known how important spelling was when I was younger.

A “wish I had known” list is long, sometimes poignant (Wow! Got that one right) and sometimes funny. Probably everyone on planet earth has a different list. But that’s okay, because God fills in the gaps. He knows. He always knows.

“O LORD, You have searched me and known me. You know my sitting down and my rising up; You understand my thought afar off. You comprehend my path…I will praise You, for I am fearfully and wonderfully made.” Psalm 139.

Amazon.com: Stephanie Parker McKean: Books, Biography, Blog, Audiobooks, Kindle

Little Heroes

When I was five, I found an injured bird, caught it, and took it home. It wasn’t injured. I had unknowingly approached its nest too closely. It pretended to have a broken wing to lead me away. It offered its life in place of its young. That memory inspired me to write my children’s book, “Save Our Egg.”

BA…meaning Before Arthritis, I used to run. I liked to run around the fenced track at the school. There was no hard surface and the grass made running difficult, but because it was a mile—it was easy to keep track of distance. One day—running it proved hazardous. Neighborhood seagulls were teaching their babies to fly and had positioned them in the middle of the field. They considered me a threat. Their angry squawks and repeated dive bombing sent me back to the pavement.

When son Luke was eleven, we rescued and raised a baby raven. Rap followed Luke everywhere—even when he was riding his bike. Unlike our collie puppy who liked everyone, Rap was a guard dog. He loved Luke’s best friend, but when people he didn’t know entered our driveway—Rap attacked. He never bothered neighborhood kids in their own yards—just in “his” yard. When the ranchers took a break for lunch in the barn, Rap joined them, walking up and down the long table to accept whatever tidbits they were willing to share.

Recently, a pigeon knocked on our glass door at the back of the house. I opened the door and the bird walked in and settled under one of the kitchen chairs. It was raining, so I gave the bird some seed and water and let it spend the night. The next morning, the pigeon began following me around the house and I put it back outside. Birds are intelligent. Calling someone a “bird brain” is actually a compliment.

Jesus said, “Look at the birds of the air, for they neither sow nor reap nor gather into barns; yet your heavenly Father feeds them.” Matthew 6:26. Jesus also said that not even one sparrow falls to the ground apart from the Father’s will, and adds, “Do not fear therefore; you are of more value than many sparrows.” Matthew 10:31.

Birds are little heroes.

Why I Write Clean Books

When I was around 13 or 14, I used profanity in an effort to fit in with my friends. That never happened. I’ve never “fit in,” and probably not just because I have big feet. Then I started reading Moody Bible books and met the Sugar Creek Gang and kid characters like them. I wasn’t a Christian. I didn’t read the Bible. I didn’t go to church. Conversation around our table at meals consisted of my father telling us that God didn’t exist.

The clean living characters in those mystery/adventure books resonated with me and I vowed that I would never use profanity again. I haven’t. Not even in my books. I want my book characters to be like my son Luke, who made it from enlisted to major before a plane crash changed his address from earth to heaven. While Luke was still a captain in the USMC, one of his enlisted men wrote in the platoon newsletter: “We can’t make Captain Parker swear no matter what we do to him.” I want my characters to set good examples—not by preaching it, but by living it.

Readers also will not find people smoking, using drugs, drinking alcohol, or having gratuitous sex in my books, because the Bible tells us that our bodies are God’s holy temples and that we are not to do anything that destroys them.

One of my friends is dying of lung cancer right now. I used to work with her. I begged her to quit smoking. So did a lot of other people. She was smoking long before I met her. But just suppose that she had fallen in love with a character in one of my books and started smoking because my character made it seem so “cool.” How devastating would that be?

“You were bought at a price; therefore glorify God in your body and in your spirit, which are God’s.” 1 Corinthians 6:20.

Thawed to Death – Kindle edition by McKean, Stephanie Parker, Potter, Victoria M. Religion & Spirituality Kindle eBooks @ Amazon.com.

Dog Walking Legislation

There are some folks who want to pass a law prohibiting dog owners from walking their dogs in hot weather.

Insane is the new normal. Legislating every area of human life is the new freedom. Put a bird in a cage and it will never experience life on the other side of metal bars—but it will be safe from predators.

Most dog owners I know are intelligent and love their pets. They have enough common sense to know how and when to walk their dogs. They don’t need legislation. Imagine being prohibited from walking your dog when unrelated people—some of whom don’t even have dogs themselves—arbitrarily decide it is “too hot.” Further imagine you live somewhere (like where we live) without a yard or garden. I suppose the resulting dog elimination fluids and solids all over the house wouldn’t be a health concern?

Oh, but I forgot. These legislation happy folks are smarter than the rest of us. They know what’s best for our dogs—and for us.

If this bill becomes law, find the back door of your house and practice exiting and fleeing. Because they’re coming for your ice cream next. Instead of the prize patrol, it will be the calorie-counting patrol. They’re at your door—they’ve made it inside—they are heading for your freezer. Run!

Amazon.com: Stephanie Parker McKean: Books, Biography, Blog, Audiobooks, Kindle

A New Way to Spell “Learn”?

We’ve all heard the positive sound bites: reach for the clouds; dream big; touch the stars, everything is possible if you try.

Not true. However, learning to separate the possible from the impossible is hard. I can’t learn to sing. It’s impossible for me. I’ve heard all the jokes about folks who can’t carry a tune in a bucket. Seriously? I can’t even find the tune to get it into the bucket.

God created each one of us with a plan and a purpose and gave each of us unique talents. With God everything really is possible—if it coincides with His plan for us, and the gifts He gave us. God didn’t create me to sing—He created me to write.

We like to believe that we are in control of our lives. Not true. There are things we simply cannot control regardless of how much we want to. Ultimately, God is in control. That is a hard thing to learn.

Learning is hard. The toddler falls repeatedly before learning to walk. When a baby bird is pushed out of the nest and forced to fly—it is hard.

Our rough collie Savannah is a consummate bee hunter. She has learned to chase—not catch bees. It was hard. It was painful. She pounces at bees and watches them fly. Then she leaps into the air in an attempt to fly herself. Possible for bees—impossible for her. God did not create rough collies to fly—not even intelligent ones.

“Hard and learn. Perhaps they should be spelled the same way.

“And let our people also learn to maintain good works.” Titus 3:14. Maintaining good works takes work. A Biblical example of hard learning.

Amazon.com: Stephanie Parker McKean: Books, Biography, Blog, Audiobooks, Kindle

Negative Neighbor

I met negative neighbor again today. “I love your dress,” I said truthfully.

“It’s not a dress. It’s a skirt and top.”

“Well, it’s beautiful.”

“It’s old.”

“Well, you couldn’t buy anything new that is any prettier.”

“I’d like to try. I’d like to go shopping. This stupid lockdown has messed everything up.”

“The lockdown is easing,” I said, “A lot of stores are open again already.”

“I can’t go shopping now. I’d be afraid of getting covid.”

Moment of silence. Couldn’t get away from her. She blocked my escape route. “How are your mom and dad?”

“Fine, thanks to me. They take a lot of looking after.”

“But I’m sure you’re glad to still have them. So many people have lost their parents.”

“Looking after them takes up all my time.”

“They are fortunate to have you.”

“My dad wants to get a dog.”

“Dogs are wonderful companions.”

“I’m the one who would have to take care of it. I don’t like dogs.”

Still blocking the escape route…

“And Mum wants me to do more in the garden.”

“Well, it’s been lovely, warm weather for working in the garden.”

“It’s too hot. It hasn’t rained enough. I have to water everything. It’s hard work.”

“Well, it’s good exercise.”

“I hate exercise. Mum won’t do her exercises. She would be better if she did. She would be easier to look after. I hate exercising, but I do mine.”

“I’m sure you set a good example for your mom. She might decide to do what you do.”

“She won’t. She’s stubborn.”

Me: edging toward what I hope is an escape route.

“I also play the organ for two different venues.”

“How lovely that you have musical talent. Playing beautiful music must lift your soul.”

“It makes my back hurt.”

Me: edging closer to the car next to mine that has me trapped in the parking lot and hoping I can make it around her. Escape foiled. She moves directly in front of me.

“And now they have other instruments joining in with the organ. I have to practice a lot.”

“God created music. All musical instruments glorify Him. God must be pleased by the lovely praise.”

“It’s more like the instruments are talking to each other than it is like music.”

“But the final outcome is still praise to God.”

“With all those different noises? It’s confusing. I don’t like confusion.”

I push around her and run for the store—forgetting that I can’t run because of my knee replacement and the hip that still needs replacing. Sometimes fleeing negativity is the best answer. Especially when the negative person missed the Bible reading on the day it focused on 1 Timothy 6:6, “Godliness with contentment is great gain.”

Amazon.com: Stephanie Parker McKean: Books, Biography, Blog, Audiobooks, Kindle

What He Left Behind

My son Luke, known by some as U.S. Marine Corps Major Luke Parker, left this earth on November 27, 2013, at the age of 45. He left behind love and memories in the hearts of friends and family. He also left behind: a spanking new truck with all the extras; a WWII Jeep he restored; a two-story house near the beach; a Stetson hat and western boots and apparel; one of the last 19 remaining Focke Wulf airplanes in the world (which crashed with him), and even the Bible he carried with him everywhere—a tattered and underlined Bible that sits next to me at my desk.

At age 45, after achieving the rank of Major in the USMC, graduating from Stephen F. Austin, learning to pilot an airplane, and fathering a lovely and intelligent daughter—Luke left it all behind. Unexpectedly. Unplanned. Abruptly. In the blink of an eye, Luke passed from earth to heaven taking with him only the spirit that God breathed into him at his conception.

I see commercials on TV begging for funds to help people who have been traumatized by covid 19 and the resulting lockdowns. These traumatized people don’t need money, they need the assurance that comes only from God; that we are strangers and pilgrims passing through this world on our way to an eternal life where there will be no illness, no death, no pain, no sorrow, no suffering, no lack of any good thing.

They need to look around them at everything they own and realize that it is temporary. When they leave this earth, it won’t go with them. They will leave it all behind—just like Luke did.

Amazon.com: Stephanie Parker McKean: Books, Biography, Blog, Audiobooks, Kindle