I fear I depend on the Internet for far to many things. I don't remember what life was like before the Internet. I love to blog...would do it everyday if time permitted. And who isn't on Facebook? Ok, fine, so maybe you haven't opened a FB account (yet) but you're likely part of some social media group. There are a ton of things, besides the news, that beckon us to the cyber world everyday. If you're one of the few who can raise your hand and say, "I have no idea what you're talking about!" I admire you!!
I had intended to be a part of YLCF blog carnival this past Wednesday, which elaborated the ordinary days of Christian ladies around the globe. I was only halfway thru chronicling the all too ordinary events of one of my days when one of my brothers and his six year daughter had a very frightening four wheeler accident. It’s taken me several days to recover from the absolute miracle of their survival. I can only conclude of the Lord’s merciful hand in it. Repetitive thoughts of gratitude and sincere praise are constantly being resurrected in me.
I’ve been thinking about eternity for many weeks now. What it means to be gone from this moral life in mere seconds. What it would be like to stand before our Maker. And how? Will I go empty-handed? As I gaze into Maria’s swollen face, bruised and battered from being thrown off a swiftly moving ATV ( her dad is by no means a reckless driver), I cannot quite shake the image of her and her daddy lying there lifeless. My mind cannot grasp, cannot reconcile to the reality of the harshness of sudden death. It’s too final, too cold. If this is a reflection of some failure in my own fallible, selfish heart, forgive me.
I thank the Lord for the ordinary days that flow in and out of my life. Yes, there is always the danger of becoming lukewarm if our lives fall into too much of a rut. But for how many people is that really a problem? The doors of eternity opens for so many people everyday. It’s the stark reality of life. Everyday children lose a mother or father. I cannot begin to imagine the desolate, empty feeling of losing my parents. Everyday a mother must let go of a child’s hand and give it back to the Maker, but I fail to grasp the agony of that moment. I can’t imagine a mother having to take one last look at her child, knowing she will never wrap her arms around her little boy’s small frame again, never to relish her little girl’s wet kisses. She and her daddy will never again cuddle on the couch with their favorite story. I have plenty of nieces and nephews and those thoughts have been punctuated deeply into my soul these past weeks. It must require a special grace given by the Lord.
Someone once said, “Snoring is the most beautiful sound in the world-ask any widow.” I thought the wise Elizabeth Elliot said that but I can’t verify it. Think about that next time he tracks mud into the house, or forgets (again) to take out the garage. Because of my single status I haven’t much to offer in this arena. Nonetheless, having five sisters-in-laws one picks up a thing of two. How they worry about them when something breaks down at the turkey barns late at night. How easily they’ll pick up the phone to call them if they haven’t heard from them for a few hours. The great lengths they’ll go to to make something just to their man's liking. I love it how Michael will offer to change Tabitha’s diaper for me when I’m babysitting. He’s so much more fluent at it then I am. I’ve seen how much selflessness marriage requires, but I’ve also seen how much pleasure it gives. I pray everyday for the safely of my brothers as they go about their jobs. In the perilous moments of life I hope to never see one of my sister-in-laws having to wake up alone in bed. But I know that the Lord works in mysterious ways; ways I will not even endeavor to comprehend.
Cherish your family. Enjoy your children. Love and appreciate your spouse. For the dawn of a new day may not be over the horizon for your loved one.
Enjoy this!! When I made one of these last year several of you said the quality was bad. I can't help that, sorry! I assume they have to minimize the resolution so more images fit into your storage bin...? If you wanna see last summer's, click here.
The time for designated schedules has come knocking at my door once again. Late nights spent devouring books is now limited mostly to weekends. Now the droll sound of that dreaded alarm clock is my early morning master. Oh, for the freedom of summer days! Gone they are! Replaced with scenes from the classroom determined to become my second home for the next nine months.
I will miss summer. The popsicle grins. The evenings spent spitting sunflower seeds on the front porch while enjoying the activities of children and adults alike. No more swimming trunks hanging on the wash line to dry off---only to be grabbed again by mischievous boy’s mere hours later. I wonder how we live without the taste of a fresh cucumbers, delicious muskmelons, and last minute tomato sandwich snacks…? What about the scattered sandals and crocs parked by the sandbox and trampoline? Not to mention the popsicle wrappers no one threw down! I’m afraid I’m guilty too; I don’t always sweep off my sunflower seeds from the sidewalk. Sometimes I forget to bring in my water glass and it sleeps in the great indoors.
Oh, to watch lush trees and green grass lose their colors to the dusty hues of autumn. Autumn has mysteries if its own. Like how dull-painted leaves finally, reverently surrender their glory to naught we all but trample on. Unless we stop and think a moment we forget that they’re crumbling to make the earth futile as promises of spring chase away the last harshness of winter.
I stopped yesterday to listen to the falling of leaves. Leaves really do make a sound as the fall. It is a true wonder. The scent and scenes of autumn took refuge in my scarred heart and calmed the storm within. I felt and knew peace. There are few pleasures that rate higher on my scale then the beauty of my home and the people I love so close within reach. To walk down beaten paths knowing no matter which winding trail I take it will no less lead me back home again.
I hope I’ll never get used to it, will never concede to it as normal…and will always see it for the gift it’s meant to me.
Giving up everything she worked for, the author of Love Has A Face writes about the challenges she faced doing the will of God. Michele Perry, born without her left hip and leg, leaves the comfortable life to show love and care to one hundred little lives in a war zone. The stories she recalls are heart wrenching and seem almost impossible to deal with. In world where love is so scares that it’s hard to even imagine it, Michele Perry portrays the love of Christ so vividly, she shows hundreds of people what Christ is like by giving them love. Showing you how important love is to the people in your life and challenging you to apply it.
She does this not knowing from day to day if she or those around her will survive the bombs and machine gun that pelt against the wall of her orphanage every night. She puts her faith in God and it’s her incredible faith in God that challenges you to look at your own life searching for something better and more meaningful. I would recommend this book to anyone who is searching for true fulfilment and the true meaning of what it means living for Jesus. It is not a fast read (at least wasn’t for me) but it worth your time.
A review copy of this book was provided by Bethany House Publishers. You can purchase it here.
Early in 1872, a Mennonite family leaves Russia for their son’s sake, but are left wondering if they're doing the right thing? They have a ways to travel and are not even in America yet when they encounter grief, tragedy and guilt. Will they be strong enough to stand united in the new world? Will they find their Gnadenfeld- field of Grace?
Each character’s feelings, especially anger, draw you into the story. In the new world, dire circumstances lead them to make choices they don’t want to make. You feel for Henrik, are frustrated along with him. His feelings of betrayal, for reasons that only he thinks are right, can’t help but draw you in. Eli, his longing and dreams make you sad because they are at his fingertips but there is nothing he can do about it. Only his faith in God helps him through his trials. Lillian aggravated me. I was really frustrated with her at times. With all her actions and words, she had to eat the soup she cooked!!
I found something in the book that raised my eyebrows and had me saying, “Wow”. A hymn in my language, “Wach auf mein Herz und Singe” -“Awake, my heart, and render”. There were words I could just make out after I read the translation, but this song I learned when I went to German school when I was but 5 years old.
A great story when you want to shed a few tears and when you are curious of how many emotions a person can go through in a short period of time.
A copy of this novel was made available for review by Bethany House Publishers. You can purchase your copy here.
Review by Rachel W. The Carousel Painter impressed me as a story of mystery and romance set against an historical background.
When Carrington Brouwer’s father, a starving artist, died leaving Carrie without parents and inheritance, Carrie knew she had to find a job quickly. Carrie was made to feel unwelcome by her best friend, Augusta Galloway’s mother when she went to live with them for a while. She quickly found a job as a painter in Mr. Galloway’s carousel factory painting horses. Working in a totally male environment put Carrie at a disadvantage; she was looked down on and suffered daily criticism by the men and their wives, who were afraid Carrie would steal their husbands.
but Carrie kept on with determination and vigor even when she got opposition, going through a chain of mysterious events when accused of stealing Mrs. Carroway’s diamond necklace and then her own father’s painting disappeared. Carrie found herself being investigated and doing an investigation of her own to find out the truth.
An enjoyable read for all historical romance book-lovers.
A review copy of this book was provided by Bethany House Publishers. It is available for purchasing here.
I'd pay someone to do art for me with my students every Friday! That's how much I dislike it.
Sometimes I attempt to draw something on the board and my kids will look at it, frown and say, "what is that?" I'm serious, I can't even draw stick figures...
So I usually dread Friday afternoons. The kids love art though...impatiently they wait for Friday. We did the project below yesterday. I found it here...it's so creative. This is what the caterpillar should have looked like. But my younger students ended up cutting out all kinds of shapes...next time I'd devote a single art hour to work on cutting out circles and complete the project the following week. It's an easy enough project for ages 5 and up.
(Go here for easy instructions on how to make the felt caterpillar).
This is one of my seven year old students doing a story narration on Peter, the Boy Who Cried Wolf. I happen to think it’s incredibly cute, but being extremely bias, you may form your own opinion. Unfortunately, he’s got me wrapped around his finger. I have the hardest time disciplining him. Usually when I catch one of the kids doing something they shouldn’t do, or when they know they’ve crossed the line, they’ll have every excuse in the world. That they didn’t really do it, or they did it because of this or that. Not Mika, he admits his folly. He'll just look at me with sad, repentant eyes and say he’s sorry, that’ll he’ll not do it again…and he won’t, not that day at least. Likely, he’ll start crying and the tears wash his already blue eyes in an impossible beautiful hue of bluer than blue…my heart melts faster than butter in the microwave.
I walked into the classroom just the other day and he was walking away from my desk with a brand new eraser. As soon as he noticed me his whole expression turned guilty as he attempted to hide the eraser. Being sarcastic by nature, I merely raised my eyebrows at him, awaiting his confession.
“I need the eraser, Lisa, mine is kaput.”
“But you went into my desk and took it without asking.” He knows well the rule against going into my desk drawers without permission.
“I’m sorry Lisa, I’m sorry. Please, may I keep the eraser? I won’t do it again…”
Of course, I was a goner. Hook. Line. And. Sinker. I don’t know if he knows he has the power to paralyze me whenever he needs to be disciplined. He’s so happy and energetic, so full of life and vigor…and those freckles sprinkled across his nose and unto his cheeks don’t help either.
Oh, no. I think I smell a little girl's diaper! Babysitting this afternoon. My sister-in-laws are fall cleaning. Any volunteers to change her?
Sunday, October 11, 2009
"The influence of a genuine Christian is noiseless and silent as the continual droppings of a summer shower, which refreshes and enriches oftentimes more than the heavy fall of rain..."
This dramatized audio version of the Screwtape Letters by C.S. Lewis is a stroke of brilliance. I was spellbound, fascinated and completely captivated.
For more than one reasons, I’m not a huge Lewis fan. At least I wasn’t before I listened to these. One of the reasons is that his theology is way over my head. I’m a simple-minded person, unlearned in in-depth theology. The other reason is, in my tender youth, I read something by someone I admired, who thought unkindly towards Lewis’ idea of Christianity. Unconsciously, without any personally conviction from my own heart I adopted that mentality.
However, I have several friends who love Lewis’ work and are constantly uplifted and inspired by the writings of this genius. Besides, he's a favorite of an all-time favorite author of mine, Elizabeth Elliot. That alone speaks very highly of him! Rare is the book she doesn’t quote him.
The Screwtape Letters are, if you can believe it, letters from one devil to another. A senior devil writes his apprentice nephew age-old advice on how to tempt and lure believers off the strait and narrow. I was enraptured. I saw myself and how I have fallen so many times! How the slow, gradually deluding of a relationship with Christ is what the devil is aiming for. It was revelation. I tried to listen to it while working in school or at home. But it demanded my complete attention, which I readily gave.
I kept wondering how can a person so effectively point out the sin in my heart? But Lewis wrote in a letter to a friend that he need only look into his own heart to see this. The letters to Wormwood (the apprentice devil) from his Uncle Screwtape were the least favorite of Lewis’ book. He remarked how unpleasant it was to write from the devil’s perspective. In the Screwtape Letters Christ is referred as the enemy.
Honestly, though, like with so many of Lewis’ books, a lot of the conversation was above my head. The voices, by some very talented British actors, are so effectively and fluently done. I didn’t expect to be so taken back and mesmerized by this. I had planned to pass them on to a friend of mine who adores Lewis’ writings. But by the end of this dramatization I was so attached…I can’t possibly part with them yet! I want to listen to them again and again…
You will feel the same way after listening to them. So many things were brought to light from this analogy. I highly recommend them.
**Special thanks to Christy at Tyndale Media Center for the opportunity to review this treasure. You can order your copy here! Also, please visit the website created specially for this edition of Lewis' Screwtape Letters. You will get the feel of what the dramatization is like. With Christmas just around the corner it would make a excellent gift to fans of Lewis' work. Or to an unbeliever.
Sometimes you stumble across a book you'd like to pass on to all your friends...that is, if they favor old books dating back to the 1800's. Sometimes the books I find in thrift stores and garage sales are so old that they don't have a copyright date!
Presently, I'm reading The Flower of the Family by Elizabeth Prentiss, more commonly known for writing Stepping Heavenward, but who’s penned several other great books. From my experience she writes most of her books for a younger audience, but I'm enjoying them nonetheless.
I love the rich, edifying text, the beautiful, timeless virtue of old books. 'Tis a lost art in anything written in present-day literature. I have one single quibble with old books, they can start out very uneventful, almost boring, if you will. Oft times I will start an old book and after the first few chapters will lay it aside…weeks later it'll catch my attention again and I’ll pick it up only to sigh when the clock on the wall tells me that morning will come all to soon…
…I love old books! These days the story of a girl named Lucy, and her journey as a young Christain is bidding for my time...
I didn't capture this beauty. A friend, who made memories in Liberia before I did, snapped it. It took my breath away! I stole it from her Facebook page...I'll ask for forgiveness later.
Tucker McCabe and Sabrina Kincaid have been in love for a while, but each were afraid to let the other know. Tucker tries hard to show his love but Sabrina, titled the “Ice Princess”, thinks herself unworthy of Tucker’s love.
When Tucker hires Sabrina to help him find the woman he loves (whom he had been emailing with), Sabrina panics. She weaves herself into a web of deceit to avoid Tucker. She doesn't realize that Tucker knows more about her than she realizes...
After reading so many books where the couples are on the outs because of deceit and trust issues, it was refreshing and heartwarming to read this book. Tucker loved and forgave Sabrina despite everything and made her see herself as the beautiful and worthy young woman she was. The book really made me think of my life; am I deceiving someone in my life by trying to be someone I’m not?
I really enjoyed this book; it was an awesome, fun read and I definitely recommend it to all contemporary book lovers.
**Thanks to the folks at Thomas Nelson for a review copy of this book. You can purchase the book here.
Reviewed by Pauline: A captivating story of love, honor, and war. Readers are transformed back into the times of Egypt and Rome, where a family is torn apart in allegiance to one another in order to win the throne of Egypt. Cleopatra, the Greek queen of Egypt, joins forces with the Roman General, Julius Caesar, to try to win her people back into her favor. Can she do enough to win both Caesar's heart and the heart of her people?
Sophia, Keeper of the lighthouse, finds out that keeping herself hidden in the own private world of the lighthouse will not keep love from finding her in the form of a Roman soldier sent by Caesar to guard her lighthouse. Will she be able to overcome her past losses and find room in her heart for Bellus, who was everything she did not want in her life.
Guardian of the Flame is an exciting story that takes you back to history to one of the Seven Wonders of the World, the Lighthouse of Alexandria. A book of such intriguing read that you felt you were there in the time where two different world’s collide to form an understanding of each other’s cultures. Can’t wait for the rest of the Seven Wonders series to come out.
Note from Lisa: I read this as well and enjoyed it. It's evidently well researched for the history is rich and well written. It didn't always flow naturally but that's my only compliant. It's another one of those books that drove me to the Wikipedia for more details. The history of the Lighthouse of Alexandra is fascinating, truly a wonder and high achievement of its time. I loved the history woven so effectively into the book. It also touches on several other important discoveries of that era.
It is time for a FIRST Wild Card Tour book review! If you wish to join the FIRST blog alliance, just click the button. We are a group of reviewers who tour Christian books. A Wild Card post includes a brief bio of the author and a full chapter from each book toured. The reason it is called a FIRST Wild Card Tour is that you never know if the book will be fiction, non~fiction, for young, or for old...or for somewhere in between! Enjoy your free peek into the book!
You never know when I might play a wild card on you!
From her earliest childhood, there was nothing Tracy loved better than stepping into another world between the pages of a book. From dragons and knights, to the wonders of Narnia, that passion has never abated, and to Tracy, opening any novel is like stepping again through the wardrobe, into the thrilling unknown. With every book she writes, she wants to open a door like that, and invite readers to be transported with her into a place that captivates. She has traveled through Greece, Turkey, Egypt, Israel and Jordan to research her novels, and looks forward to more travel as the Seven Wonders series continues. It’s her hope that in escaping to the past with her, readers will feel they’ve walked through desert sands, explored ancient ruins, and met with the Redeeming God who is sovereign over the entire drama of human history.
List Price: $14.99 Paperback: 400 pages Publisher: B&H Books (October 1, 2009) Language: English ISBN-10: 0805447326 ISBN-13: 978-0805447323
AND NOW...THE FIRST CHAPTER:
Alexandria, Egypt
48 B.C.
Sophia pressed her forehead against the chilled window glass of her private chamber and tried to capture a glimpse of life, far below and out of reach.
The harbor, more than one hundred cubits down, churned with boats whose sails flapped in the dying sun like the scales of white fish, and with ant-sized servants who scurried to deliver supplies to her lighthouse before its Keeper punished them for their delay.
On a white-cushioned couch behind her, one of Euripides’s plays called for her return to its lines of tragedy. She resisted. The words had already bled into her heart with remembrances she wished to avoid.
Enough foolishness. Shoulders back and eyes unblinking, she crossed the room to a cedarwood desk. Her astronomy charts covered the wall above, but it was a more practical papyrus that she spread on its surface. She weighted the top corners with two small statuettes of Isis and Osiris with a muttered apology to the gods, and let the bottom corners curl upon themselves. The late afternoon sun burned through the window, setting dust particles afire in the air and touching the lighthouse’s fuel consumption chart and the scrawled labor requirements. Sophia retrieved her sharpened reed and ink and added notations to the latest entry.
Work first. Then she could spend the evening brooding over Euripides’s plays, and even the past.
Behind her, sharp knuckles attacked the outside of her door. Only one person knocked like that, and only one person would bother to make the climb halfway up the lighthouse’s three hundred cubits.
The door flew open before she invited entrance. Her personal servant stumbled in, eyes wide.
Sophia jumped to her feet. “Romans?”
Ares leaned against a marble stand that held the sculpted bust of Plato, winded. The heavy-footed Roman legion marched into Alexandria several weeks earlier. Sophia had been waiting for war, as one waits for a ship returning from far-off trade. Knowing it will come, never certain when.
But Ares was shaking his head. “She’s here! She climbed over the – ”
Ares was shoved aside and another figure slid into the room. Sophia’s heart danced over a few beats, then settled into a staccato. The young woman before her smiled, the languid look of a woman who knows her own power. “Sophia--” she extended both her jeweled hands. “How I have missed you!”
Sophia let out her breath with one quiet word. “Cleopatra!” She waved to her servant. “Leave us, Ares.”
The boy backed out of the room.
“And not a word of this!” Sophia called after him.
When he had closed the door she took a hesitant step toward the younger woman. “How? Have you made peace at last with your brother?”
Cleopatra flung the question aside with a wave of her hand. “The little brat knows nothing of monarchy. It is those three leeches that hiss in his ears that are the problem.” She spotted the black and gold kylix of wine and brightened. “I am parched.” She crossed to the table and ladled wine into an alabaster cup. “The sea, you know.” She filled another cup and handed it to Sophia.
Sophia studied her, speechless. Her magnetic power seemed undimmed by her recent exile. Her white robe, trimmed in gold and purple, hung a bit more loosely on her frame.
“You are thinner.” Cleopatra sipped the wine and grimaced. No doubt it had been left too long in the bowl. “Will you never cease to fret over me, Sophia?”
Sophia’s breathing had returned to normal, and she found a place on the couch. “Sit. Tell me.”
Cleopatra came to her, dropped a knee to the couch, then curled herself next to Sophia like a leopard settling to rest. She lifted the skull of a panther from the low table before them and turned it around with her long fingers.
“Did you get in unseen?” Sophia asked.
“Apollodorus rowed me into the harbor in a small boat. We docked in the Eunostos Harbor, away from the crowds. I climbed ashore at the base of the lighthouse and circled to the door. I am safe here, Sophia.”
Sophia swallowed. “Why take such a risk?”
“It has been an eventful few days.” Cleo set the skull back on the table with a thunk.
“I thought you were in Syria.”
“I was. My little brother Ptolemy and his three sycophants are camped at Pelusium, with their armies ready to attack my troops. But I believe the gods have other plans.” She smiled again, the scheming grin Sophia had known and loved since Cleopatra’s childhood.
“What have you done?” Sophia closed tight fingers around the girl’s wrist, as fear clamped itself around her heart.
Cleopatra inclined her head and laughed, then stroked Sophia’s arm with her fingertips. “An opportunity has come to me on the heels of Ptolemy’s foolishness.”
“So what has your brother done?”
“The Roman Pompey fled to my brother, hoping for Ptolemy’s support against Julius Caesar. But Ptolemy’s three advisors decided they would rather gain the favor of Caesar. They greeted Pompey with a knife point.”
“He is dead?”
Cleopatra nodded. “And now Caesar has arrived here in the city.” She crossed one leg over the other and bounced her foot. “My brother’s men sent him Pompey’s head as a gift. Caesar was furious at his adversary’s ignoble death.”
Sophia slapped her thigh. “These barbaric Romans. Impossible to comprehend. They stomp all over the world with their insatiable lust to conquer, but when someone kills their enemy, they are angered.”
Cleopatra’s eyes glittered. “Yes, he sounds fascinating, doesn’t he?”
Sophia’s apprehension returned. . “What are you going to do?”
“Take advantage of the opportunity.”
“It is not safe for you in the city, Cleopatra. You must return to Syria, under the protection of your troops.”
Cleopatra removed her hand from Sophia’s arm and unfolded herself from the couch. “You would have me remain a child forever! I am no longer your student.”
Sophia stood as well, matching the fire in Cleopatra’s eyes with her own. “You are twenty-one!”
Cleopatra flung her hair over her shoulder. Her face was a mere handspan from Sophia’s. Her voice was low. “And I am Queen of Egypt.”
Sophia shifted away, but Cleopatra clutched at her, spun her back to herself. “Do not be angry with me, my Sophia. Tell me you love me still.”
Sophia sighed. I could never control her. “Would I have spent all those painful hours teaching you the languages of Egypt if I did not love you?”
Cleopatra lips formed a pout, reinforcing her youth. “You were well-paid by my father.”
Sophia touched Cleopatra’s cheek. “And I would have done it for nothing.”
The younger woman’s expression cleared. “There, now you have made me happy. Next you must tell me how beautiful I look in spite of my thinness, and then I will be satisfied.”
Sophia looked over the queen’s long reddish-brown curls, her regal features, the fine fabric of her robe and the twinkling jewels stitched to her headpiece and wrapped around her arms and fingers. “Cleopatra, as always, you are stunning.”
The girl fluttered her eyelashes playfully. “You have them all fooled, Sophia. But not me.” She pointed to Sophia’s masculine tunic, carelessly belted. “I know the real woman beneath all your manly clothes and your harsh manner. I know there is something good buried.”
Sophia’s inner restlessness stilled, as though she had grown cold. She nodded once, unable to answer, and then retreated to the couch. Let us speak of something else.
Cleopatra dropped beside her, and leaned her head against Sophia’s shoulder with a sigh. The sun’s last rays splashed through the west window and lit up the gold trim that edged her robe.
“What will you do?” Sophia whispered, knowing she would not like the answer.
Cleopatra did not lift her head. “Caesar is ill-disposed toward my brother and his advisors tonight. I will cause his favor to fall on me.”
“And how will you accomplish this?”
Cleo laughed. “I know it has been a long time, Sophia. But do not tell me you have forgotten how a woman can gain the favor of a man.”
Sophia pulled away from her. “No, Cleo. No.”
Cleopatra tossed her hair over her shoulder. “I have only this brief moment to gain his favor. My brother will surely arrive by tomorrow. It must be tonight.”
Sophia’s stomach clenched. “You are young, inexperienced. And he is a Roman!”
“The world is changing.”
Sophia exhaled heavily. “For over two hundred years your family has ruled Egypt. The Egyptians have come to accept that. And you understand their ways. You respect their love of knowledge, you share their desire to decipher the world. You have even embraced their gods. But these Romans, Cleo, they are crude savages, interested only in blood and victory and power!”
Cleopatra looked away, to the darkening window. “I think you forget how interested in power I am myself, Sophia.”
She traced Cleo’s strong jawline. “Born to rule. Raised to rule. Queen at eighteen.” And exile in the face of your brother’s treachery has done nothing to dull the hunger. “Can I not talk you out of this foolishness?”
Cleopatra’s lips twitched in amusement. “There we are. I knew you would come around.” She pulled Sophia toward her and once more leaned against her shoulder. “Just let me stay until the darkness has fully fallen.” She sighed deeply. “I am so tired.”
Sophia relaxed into the cushions and took the weight of Cleopatra’s exhaustion. The girl was asleep in moments, leaving Sophia to her own thoughts. She let Cleo sleep as the evening wasted.
Her hair hung over Sophia’s shoulder, where her own hair would have lain if she had not cropped it close to her head. She stroked Cleopatra’s robe with one finger, then draped the fabric over her own thigh.
She is everything I am not.
And yet despite their differences, Sophia always found herself more whole in Cleo’s presence. The girl was like pressed oil, filling in the cracks and brittle places of Sophia’s soul with something warm and smooth. When they were together, all the tension and anger that seemed to define Sophia ran out of her, leaving her feeling almost human.
Sophia had begun to doze as well when Ares’s knuckle-bruising knock again sounded at the door. She glanced down to Cleopatra, but the girl’s gentle breathing continued. She shifted her to the cushions, then slipped away to open the door.
“For the love of Isis, Ares, what is it now?”
He stepped in, one hand still on the door. “A message for you, Abbas.” He held a scrap of papyrus. She pushed him into the hall and half-closed the door behind them.
Ares had called her abbas since he was a young boy.. Whether the Egyptian word for “lion” was a compliment or a slight depended on each of their moods.
Ares peered over her shoulder, into her chamber.
“Well, give the thing to me, Ares! Don’t simply stand there!”
Ares sighed and held it up to her. “Brought by one of the Library’s slaves.” He stepped close and held the message to her eyes.
Sophia moved back a pace. “You don’t need to breathe all over me!” She snatched the scrap and read it, her pulse quickening at the request inked there.
“Will you go?”
She scowled at Ares. “Reading my messages now?”
The young man, though half her age, stood much taller than Sophia. He gave her one of his crooked half-grins. “It is a long climb.”
She shoved the papyrus back into his hand and turned away. “There is nothing in the Library that cannot be brought here to me. Send a message to Sosigenes that he may visit me here in the lighthouse if he wishes.”
“The message sounded urgent.”
She whirled on him. “Then I suppose he should run!” Ares pursed his lips, and Sophia exhaled. This boy knew her well by now. He had long ceased to be offended or intimidated by her moods. “Why can Sosigenes not send a report as usual?” she asked herself aloud.
“Perhaps he thinks it is time for you to emerge from hiding.”
“I am not hiding!” Sophia put a hand out to the door. “I rarely need to leave the lighthouse. Why should today be different?”
“Because today someone has asked.”
The door blurred before her. It was true, no one had requested her presence in the city for a great while. “They fear me.”
Ares’s laugh was soft. “Yes, the mighty Artemis, commanding the world from her high tower.”
Sophia’s lips curled into a sneer and she faced the boy again. “Which am I, Ares, a lion or a goddess?”
He lowered his eyes. “Both need sometimes to emerge from solitude.”
“Well, not today. Send the message to Sosigenes. And send ten drachma with it, to remind him under whose patronage he spends his hours.”
Ares bowed his head and turned to the ramp, his silence seeming to condemn her.
Sophia closed her eyes and pressed her fingers into the bridge of her nose. She disliked leaving the lighthouse, and it annoyed her that the old scholar would summon her. She pushed back the thought that Ares’s comments were the true source of her irritation, then reentered her private rooms and lit several lamps. The flames played on the deep reds and blacks of the room’s furnishings, on which she had spared no expense. The luxury of her chamber rivaled any in the palace. The money that flowed continually to the lighthouse enabled her to live as she wished.
She retrieved the wine Cleo had poured. At the window, she lifted the cup to the harbor in a silent salute, then sipped the wine, ignoring its bitter finish. Yes, I live as I wish.
And every day the ever-present sea breezes whispered in her ear like a spiteful friend who would never let her forget.
She spent an hour over the charts, fine-tuning the plans for the coming month, searching for the slightest opportunity to increase efficiency. When the first noises shot up the cylindrical core of the lighthouse, Sophia barely noticed.
Moments later she dropped her reed on the desk, startling Cleopatra. The girl gasped, then heard the shouts. She turned wide eyes to Sophia. “Who is it?”
Sophia tilted her head to the noise again. Her fingers tightened on her chair.
Reviewed by Rachel The Broadmoor Legacy continues as the three cousins remain best friends, alleys and close confidants as they face heartaches, betrayal, and sickness. When cholera strikes Rochester, New York, Amanda finds herself working long hours at the clinic with Dr. Blake Constead. What she didn’t expect was getting cholera herself. Blake can’t hide his feelings for Amanda any longer as he cares for her day and night. The rest of the Broadmoor family flees to their castle home on the Thousand Islands to avoid the sickness.
Meanwhile Amanda’s cousin, Fanny, has been betrayed by her uncle Jonas, Amanda’s father. He had squandered away Fanny’s inheritance and his own family fortune, putting his family into a dire financial situation. Forced to pay off his debts, he promises his daughter Amanda to a ruthless old man.
How can Blake and Amanda profess their love for each other when she had been promised to another? Amanda struck me as a courageous and faithful young woman when she sacrifices her one true love and resigns herself to marry a cruel old coot to safe her family from downfall. The way things turned out in the end reminded me of this verse:
“Wait on the Lord and be of good courage, and He shall strengthen thy heart. Wait, I say, on the Lord” Ps 27:14
A wonderful edition to your historical fiction library.
**Special thanks to Bethany House Publishing for a review copy of this book. It is available for purchasing here. You can also get it in various formats at CBD.
It’s been one of longest, saddest weeks of my life. The kind that will be stamped into the library of my memory for a long, long while. I’m not sure, am even hesitate, to try to it put into words. Should I even try?
On Friday my family attended Ryan’s funeral. I think if we had too many such days we’d whiter up and die of sorrow. Sorrow is a mysterious thing. On one hand we’re filled with more sadness than we think our hearts can endure. One the other hand we rest in the assurance that Ryan and Katrina are safely home with Jesus.
I think we gauge our grief by the reaction of the parents and those closest to the person who has died. There were moments when my Uncle was completely overcome with grief, and that’s when your heart bleed and physically hurt along with the family. However, there were other moments when he talked with assurance of Ryan’s being with Jesus, strengthening our heavy hearts, bringing beauty from ashes…victory triumphing over death!! I was very encouraged by my uncle Steven and Susanne’s acceptance of the Lord’s hand in this. It is a prevailing comfort. I also believe that the name of Jesus will be glorified from the passing of Ryan.
Many of you have asked me if I knew Ryan (who was nineteen years old) personally. I did not. My mom comes from a family of thirteen and I have over fifty cousins from her side of the family alone. I see them average once, twice a year, not even that. I am very close to my uncles and aunts on my mom’s side and love them dearly.
I want to leave you with some verses of encouragement that have uplifted me this last week. Please don’t think them strange, taunting or disrespectful as I did the first time I read them. The passing of Ryan and Katrina was ordained and planned by an Almighty God. May He continue to be glorified…
Onward, Christian Soldiers! All for Jesus!
“This is the Lord's doing; it is marvelous in our eyes. This is the day which the Lord hath made; we will rejoice and be glad in it.” Ps. 118:23-24
“Wachet, steht in glauben, seid mutig und seid stark. Alle eure dinge lasst in der liebe geschehen.” 1 Corinthians 16:13-14
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Note: Have been falling behind on some book review commitments this past week. So will be posted a bunch this week...
When was the last time you thought of your life in the light of eternity? In other words, what are you doing with your life that will, or has, effected others for eternity?
I think about that a lot. I think it has to do with working along side children everyday. Every teacher and parent can testify of moments when a look, a question, or something a child asked that made you stop and think how you’re effecting this child for eternity. It’s a very sobering thought. It sways my world off the comfort zone spiral.
Yesterday a young man in my extended family had a tragic farm accident. If it wouldn’t be for machines he would now be in eternity. At this point it’s an hour by hour vigil. I don’t know how he lived his life in the light of eternity. But I’ve been thinking about eternity all day. What I've done, or haven't done, with my life for Jesus...
Honestly, I don’t like what I see.
My brain is too frizzled to think more on the subject. I had a chaotic morning in school. My mind wasn’t there and I found myself snapping at the kids…I am so sorry, and tired.
Tomorrow we’re expecting company in school. The kids are very excited. In my lack of enthusiasm, and in a desperate attempt to salvage what was left of the day, I decided to make apple crisp for our visitors tomorrow. Putting away all lesson plans for this afternoon we went to the orchard to pick apples and headed for the kitchen. Angels must aided me because we had barrels of fun. I thoroughly enjoy it. You know how cooking class usually is: disastrous! Aside from the HUGE mess we made, it was great…will share pics later.
my charmer...
my firecracker...
