Believe in the Lighthouse even when you can’t see it

A foggy day along the beach toyed with my senses. I knew we were making progress walking, knew that we were going in the right direction – yet for long minutes – the lighthouse at the point was invisible. Our local landmark was whited out with dense fog, turning every direction into an amorphous wasteland of nearly tactile white.

While the lighthouse was invisible, it was hard to believe it was there. Yet even as we were surrounded in a surreal swirl of seawater-enhanced fog, the lighthouse had never moved. That reminds me of times in my life when painful, confusing circumstances drew blinders over my life making me doubt myself and the future. Why God? I would ask. Are You there? Do You see what’s happening to me? Do You care?

God was there every time. He did see. He did care. During days of dancing fog that confused and nights of oppressive fog that chilled the mind and stole sleep, God was working out His plan and purpose – and it was perfect for me. I needed to grow. I needed to move. I needed to change. I needed to increase in faith so that I would never doubt the existence of Jesus, the Light of the world, the Lighthouse for the lost and hurting – even during the times that I couldn’t see Him through the fog.

How can one appreciate the gift of the sun without the experience of stumbling around in the darkness? How can one appreciate joy without having shed tears of grief and misery? How can one trust God to catch them without ever jumping off the cliff?

No child should face the abuse and hardships that I did. My prayer is that no child ever will.

No adult should be subjected to the living conditions I have – living under a bridge and sleeping in the back of a pickup truck. Living in an open-ended garden center in the winter with no heat, no running water, no bathroom or kitchen facilities; sleeping on planks held up by concrete blocks and sharing “home” with scorpions, birds, toads, a wild cat and a curious skunk. Yet I wouldn’t exchange the life I’ve had for anyone else’s life, no matter how idyllic. Suffering childhood rape and forced into two abortions to hide it wrote pro-life adventure-romance Love’s Beating Heart. Living in the Texas Hill Country with all its marvelous mysteries and unique hardships penned mystery-romance-suspense Bridge to Nowhere. Had I not actually lived under a bridge to escape abuse, I probably wouldn’t be writing a series of six Bridge books at all, including the first Sunpenny publication, Bridge to Nowhere.

If I had never jumped off the cliff and been lovingly caught by Jesus, I might doubt that the Lighthouse is real, even in the fog of misery and trial. Each book I’ve written (Heart Shadows, Until the Shadows Flee, Shadow Chase, Bridge to Nowhere, Love’s Beating Heart) tells a compelling, exciting story through the eyes of faith. Faith grown in the rock of hardship and watered by the confusion of swirling fog.

The Lighthouse never moves, even in the fog.

Orkney, Guns & Collies

Just got back from a lovely trip to the Scottish island of Orkney. Even though Orkney’s history was written in spilled blood from Viking longboat invasions along the coast, the island is quiet and peaceful now and you don’t need a gun.

My past was written in the western drama of Texas. My Christian mystery-romance-suspense book Bridge to Nowhere (Sunpenny Publishing) is set in the imaginary Texas town of Three Prongs, much like Bandera, “Cowboy Capital of the World” – a place where misfits fit. Guns are important to folks in Bandera. If you find a rattlesnake in your driveway, a wild pig killing livestock, or a rabid coyote chasing your dog – you’re gonna want a gun.

Fish Soup (Sunpenny Publishing) author Michelle Jayne Heatley, from Brixham here in the UK, inquired about becoming an honorary Texan. It was suggested that she get a gun, an answer she quickly negated. To folks in the UK, including picturesque Orkney, guns are not needed and are despised. They are not written into the fabric of the country.

I never owned a gun in Texas (but I can shoot one) for the same reason I don’t train collie dogs. You have to be smarter than the dog to train it. And if you’re using a gun for protection, you better be smarter than your attacker – or he will get the gun away from you and use it against you. Why make it easier for him? I know the sum of my intelligence. I failed high school math.

But not owning a gun doesn’t mean that I can’t protect myself. I have a mobile security company on the job. I own stock in the company. “God is our refuge and strength a very present help in trouble. Therefore, we will not fear.” Psalm 46:1. “I will lift up my eyes to the hills – from whence comes my help? My help comes from the LORD, Who made heaven and earth.

So I would encourage you wherever you are in the world to seek your protection from the Source of security Who will never let you down. You don’t have to be smart enough to train a collie or own a gun and you don’t have to live on an idyllic island like Orkney. Only one condition is demanded for 24/7 security…faith.

Island Awry

Our plans showcased a great weekend trip that included visiting favorite friends and spending the night on a lovely, peaceful island. The host at the bed and breakfast cooks an amazing breakfast with eggs from his hens that are so fresh you can still smell the chicken.

We started out in Glasgow visiting Alan’s 96-year-old mother and his brother. Both are remarkable folks. Alan’s brother is a dedicated street preacher, working nearly every day. His mother still reads the Bible, prays, and sings praises to the LORD. In fact, she sings and hums all the time. Even in moments of quiet reflection, her face wears a cheerful smile. So the problem with our trip wasn’t how it started out, but rather how it ended. Clearly, we were meant to stay in Glasgow and it took three tries for God to message us.

We left early Saturday morning to keep our afternoon appointments. We were a couple of hours down the road when we realized we had forgotten Alan’s insulin and left it in the refrigerator. We went back for it. Thinking we were gone, Alan’s brother had gone to work. Wisely, their lovely mother has been instructed not to answer the door when she’s alone. So it was a two-hour wait to get the insulin and start out again, this time running late for the afternoon appointments – but still determined to keep them.

What stopped us that time was a taxi that didn’t. We stopped at a red light and the taxi behind us kept going. Our poor little car was severely crunched. The back window shattered, the hatchback sprang open, glass rained down on all our cases in the back…That disaster stopped us. We went back to Glasgow and spent the rest of the weekend with Alan’s family. I hadn’t seen them in two years and Alan hadn’t seen them in a year. Sunday was Mothers’ Day in the U.S., which made it even more special for me to be spending time with Alan’s mom.

Two Bible verses frame my life: “In everything give thanks,” and “All things work together for good to them that love the LORD.” We have already sorted out some of the things that are working together for good in our lives because of the accident. And our time here on this earth is short, no matter what our present age is. How precious to have spent that extra time with Alan’s family.

I came back on the bus and began answering emails about our books: Bridge to Nowhere, Love’s Beating Heart, Shadow Chase, Heart Shadows, Until the Shadows Flee and Alan’s The Scent of Time and his newly released The Scent of Home. Emails included a request for a press release for The Scent of Home. So as I labor over the keyboard in an attempt to catch up on everything, I realize that an island awry stole a weekend of writing. Instead of following The Scent of Home, I was following the scent of fresh eggs.