In the Time of Coronavirus - A Time to Soul Search

Panic. Fear. Uncertainty. Disbelief. Sorrow. Control-less.

In this historical era of COVID-19, how are you affected? As you listen to the news reports that change every hour, what have you become?

A few years after my son died (those of you who know me, know that Daniel's death will always be my Ground Zero), I wrote a poem about becoming. I was not who I used to be when he was by my side laughing with me and eating a bowl of Cocoa Puffs. In bereavement, I was morphing into something new---like that caterpillar when he turns into a butterfly. It didn't feel pretty. There were days of loneliness, wondering who my friends were, how I would make it to the next day. One foot in front of the other was a major task. I cried so much that my eyes stayed puffy and red. I wanted to fist-punch those who said trite things. I hated who I was.

What are you doing during this fearful season of your life?

Some people are hoarding toilet paper. We laugh, but as I stared at the empty shelves where toilet paper has always been at my local Harris-Teeter, I didn't feel like laughing. When the disgust left me, the deeper feeling was a sadness toward humanity. Because to me hoarding toilet paper (of all things!) shows me that people are not only fearful, but trying. They are trying to gain some control of a control-less situation. We are told to stay home, wash our hands, keep away from crowds, and yet, all of that sounds too simple and easy. Can't we do more? We're smart, certainly there's more we can do to make this virus go away or to try to preserve some feeling of security. "I can't hug anyone, I can't go on vacation, I can't go to work (or I've lost my job), but, hey, I can have enough toilet paper. So take that, you nasty Coronavirus."

When Daniel died, I wanted to figure out why. Why had he died? Why hadn't he been miraculously saved? Why him? He had cancer, but other children with neuroblastoma lived. Then we learned from the autopsy that he was cancer-free. It was the first we had heard that news. He'd been through eight months of treatments and we'd never heard cancer-free until the autopsy report. I feared I had missed a cue. He was supposed to have lived and I messed up.

Admitting that I had no control was a long process. When we think that we have boundless control of our lives and those around us, we are living a myth.

Hoarding toilet paper, hand sanitizer and antibacterial wipes is a way of trying to gain control in a chaotic era.

So what to do you want to become? How do you want to get out of your cocoon and emerge into a free-floating butterfly?

Bereavement opened the door for me to explore things I had never done much of before. In the midst of pain and suffering, I discovered that I was becoming a woman who shed spiritual platitudes ("God won't give you more than you can handle", etc.) and also someone who dispelled the myth that life is all under my control.

What can you do during this time of uncertainty?

* Write -- a poem, that short story that's been playing around in your mind, that song, that letter to a friend
* Read --- Dust off that copy of To Kill A Mockingbird or A Tale of Two Cities
* Pray --- Ask God to show you how you can love others around you and how you can surrender your life to him (good luck with that one, it is a daily task)
* Nurture friendships --- but be sure to stand at least six-feet apart
* Create --- a garden, a new board game, a speech, a blog post, a recipe
* Donate ---- food or money to a charity

Let this be the season to contribute something YOU into the world besides anxiety and fear.

The virus has affected the globe. It's a vicious thing.

When we get beyond the virus, however long that will take, and are able to resume our more normal lives, what will we have become?

Will you be wiser? More compassionate? Less selfish? Will you be someone who lives out gratitude?

Will you be the person you want to be?

Start now.

Cooking With Author Norma Gail

I welcome author Norma Gail today on my Cooking with Authors portion of my blog. Norma has a recipe for us and a new book coming out. Read on to learn more!


New Mexican Green Chili Stew

4 lbs. of lean beef stew meat, diced (may use pork)
4 cloves of garlic, minced
1 large onion, medium chopped
1-2 lbs. of potatoes, chopped
1 lb. of carrots, sliced
2 16 oz. cans of diced tomatoes with liquid
2 16 oz. cans of pinto beans with liquid
24 oz. of roasted green chili, diced – either canned or frozen (as mild or hot as you like)
Water to cover

Coat meat with flour and brown with garlic and onion. Mix all ingredients together in a large crockpot or stew pot on stove. Add water to the preferred consistency. Add salt and pepper to taste. Cook all day until meat, potatoes, and carrots are tender.

Serve with warm flour tortillas with butter and honey, bread, or sopapillas. Enjoy!

Thanks for that recipe, Norma. Sounds like something I will have to try. Next tell us about your upcoming novel.


Within Golden Bands – A Home for My Heart Book 2 is the sequel to my 2014 release, Land of My Dreams – A Home for My Heart. The first book is the story of Bonny Bryant, an American college professor, who accepts a job at a small Christian college in Scotland to escape heartbreak and loss. Love is the last thing on her mind when she meets fellow professor and sheep farmer, Kieran MacDonell. Together, they discover that the greatest blessings come when you leave the familiar behind and take a step of faith.

In Within Golden Bands, newly married Bonny MacDonell finds the transition from American college professor to Scottish sheep farmer’s wife more difficult than she expected. Though her husband says he has accepted her infertility, she fears his reaction when her miracle pregnancy ends in a devastating miscarriage. However, Kieran never shows up at the hospital. When found, he is beaten and unconscious. The only memory of his attacker is the words, “Get off my land.” As a result, his parents reveal a family secret involving an altered deed and missing aunt. Reeling from the threat to her husband and the loss of her child, Bonny struggles with depression.

As Kieran's elusive attacker stalks the family, threatening their safety, the couple is forced to hire bodyguards. Bonny still longs to be a mother but Kieran fears his deep-seated opposition to adoption will drive them apart. Are faith and love strong enough to keep their fledgling marriage on solid ground? Will they choose to trust God when his ways are impossible to fathom?


Thanks for joining me at my blog, Norma.


~*~*~*~
Norma Gail writes Fiction to Refresh Your Spirit. Her contemporary novels, Land of My Dreams, which won the 2016 Bookvana Religious Fiction Award, and Within Golden Bands (releasing May 19, 2020), explore the theme of women whose faith triumphs over trials. A women’s Bible study leader for over 21 years, her devotionals and poetry have appeared at ChristianDevotions.us, the Stitches Thru Time blog, Inspire a Fire, and in “The Secret Place.” She is a member of American Christian Fiction Writers, Romance Writers of America, Historical Writers of America, and the Women’s Fiction Writers Association. Norma is a former RN who lives in the mountains of New Mexico with her husband of 44 years. They have two adult children.

Ways to connect with Norma --- follow her blog, or join her on Facebook, Twitter, or Amazon. She is also on Pinterest, Instagram and Goodreads.

Morphing with Memories

When Daniel died, he left behind toy trucks, plastic dinosaurs, a joke book, and lots of clothes. In a bereavement magazine I saw an ad from a woman who made memorial quilts. I called her and after learning more about her quilts and the cost, I commissioned her to make a twin-sized quilt from Daniel’s pants and shirts. Cotton shirts are the best, she told me. In his room, which had been taken over by his baby sister, I sorted through his clothes. Some were in his laundry basket that had sat untouched in his closet since his death. This will be the last time I’ll get to do Daniel’s laundry, I thought. Downstairs I placed his clothes in the washing machine and watched the water, detergent, and fabric blend together.

Once the clothes were dry, I boxed the shirts and pants and sent them to the Quilt Lady in Nebraska. About a month later, I received a box from her. I had seen photos of memorial quilts before. But I was not ready for the emotions that came when I saw one that held squares of clothes that had belonged to my child. At first I couldn’t look at the swatches of the clothes he’d worn. The Barney dinosaur in the middle of the quilt brought back memories that made me cry. Daniel had that shirt on when he was diagnosed with cancer. He’d been three.

But as the years progressed, I was able to drape the quilt over the sofa or over an arm chair in the family room and run a finger over the blocks of cotton and embrace the memories. Barney and the other shirts held stories that were precious. One of my favorite memories came to me when I saw a blue and green squiggly swatch. That had come from a shirt with a label that read Wild Boy. Daniel had been energetic--knocking over houseplants before he could stand, jumping into puddles, and peeling off his messy diaper after a night of sleep. We called him Wild Boy. He laughed at the name. I think he was proud to be wild.

As we enter onto the journey of parental bereavement, our whole world changes. In a matter of seconds, we morph into different creatures. These new creatures have different eyes and hearts, causing us to see and feel things we did not know were valuable. To the rest of the world we look like we used to. But we know we will never be just like we used to be. Now we cry when see a toy, a picture, or when we hear a certain song on the radio. We even cry when we experience a new quilt.

Life has turned upside down. From the simple tasks like the way we drive a car to how we celebrate Christmas are under scrutiny. Even our faith and religious beliefs are questioned. Spiritual platitudes that perhaps we used to quote get shot down by our new world-view. We replace them. We toss out the illusions about life we once had. Perhaps we used to believe that wearing a seat belt offered all the protection needed, until someone we love died even though they had their seat belt fastened. Eating vegetables and fruit, exercising, and being positive don’t guarantee a long life. The control we thought we had was a myth. We have selected new thoughts and methods, dug deeper into our faith to see what is real and differentiate between that which is scriptural and those false securities that were never promised to us. We have fashioned our quilts out of what is honest and true. We have not hidden from reality because we can no longer do that. We are weathered and real and growing each day into new creations.

When I teach grief-writing workshops I ask participants: What squares of truth have you incorporated into your grief pattern? How have your thoughts changed since the death of your child? What swatches of fabric are you carrying with you on your journey? And perhaps the most important question to grapple with: How can you rid your life of things that stifle you from becoming that precious being you want to be?

I think that the key is to focus on a memory that makes you smile. Recycle that moment over and over and refuse to let the negative ones or the ones that make you feel guilty live in your heart. Always choose life-giving memories. Let them bring the sunlight you need. The wise gurus say we can't change the past, so there's no point in going over it and disciplining ourselves as we think of all we should have or could have done.

When I look at the memorial quilt, I see the energetic and fun boy Daniel was. The quilt makes me smile.

Carrying happy memories into each new day opens me up to grow into that bold, loving, and fun being I want to be.

Our Memories Fill the Stars

When a loved one dies, all we have left are memories. While the memories are sweet, they are never enough. We wish for more.

When my son Daniel died, I felt cheated that I had only four years of life with him. But after the horrific pain subsided, slowly, I was able to think of the happy memories I could hold onto and carry with me.

I'm no artist, but I did go to Michael's many times to find items I could paint or decorate that connected me to my son. On one trip to the arts and craft store, I got a plain basket and some paint. I also picked up wooden objects from various bins. These were already cut and painted, which was great since I don't think I could draw a boy in a blue-striped shirt to save my life. Daniel had blond hair and a blue-striped shirt, so that made me pick that wooden piece up and put it in my shopping cart. I got a boot because he had cowboy boots and a pig because he once fell on a prized pig at a petting zoo and the pig bit him. (Security contacted the owner of the pig, but he never showed up.) I also picked out a watermelon slice because there are many stories about Daniel revolved around that juicy red and green delight.

I painted the box with gold, red, and blue. I managed to paint a few yellow stars, too. I wrote on the lid: Our Memories Fill the Stars. The quote is one I came up when I stood under a velvet sky and watched the distant stars. I cushioned the inside of the memory basket with a red bandana that Daniel was given at a Make a Wish event the last autumn of his life.

Each wooden object holds a precious memory. My memory basket gives me a way to take out the pieces, touch them, smile, and remember.

At first when Daniel died, I thought he wouldn't be remembered by many. His friends were only four and five years old. Perhaps adults would keep his memory alive, but I couldn't be sure. At his grave, I promised that I'd tell Daniel stories. Over the years (there have been 23) I've discovered that no one can steal the memories. They are life-giving and connect me to the Daniel I love and miss every day. While I have had to struggle (immensely) with the events that surrounded his demise and death, I don't cultivate those memories. I've learned not to dwell on the treatments for cancer he went through and the shock of his passing.

Those of us who have lost a loved one discover how to recycle the memories that bring sunlight. We tell the stories again and again, and each time, we feel the boldness that lets us know it's not only okay, but acceptable, to talk about our beloved child. No one should try to shut us up. Our child died, but he also lived!

May the memories we choose bring joy today and always.

Cooking with Author Leanna Sain

Today we have author Leanna Sain as our guest on Cooking With Authors. She's got a recipe and a new novel. Welcome here, Leanna!

First the recipe . . . 

Frutti Mare with Fettuccini

1 lb. prawns - shelled & deveined 1⁄4 c. olive oil
1 T. shallots – chopped
1 T. garlic – minced

1/3 lb. scallops
1 c. ripe Roma tomatoes – finely chopped 1 c. chicken broth or clam broth
2 T. parsley – finely chopped
1⁄2 tsp. oregano
1⁄2 tsp. cayenne
10 small fresh basil leaves
3 T. Brandy
8 steamer clams
1⁄4 lb. calamari cut into rounds
8 mussels – well scrubbed
1⁄2 lb. Dungeness crabmeat
1 lb. fettuccini

            •   Cut the shrimp lengthwise in half. Set aside. Heat the oil in a skillet and add the shallots and garlic. Cook, stirring about one minute. Add the shrimp and scallops and cook, stirring about one minute. Add the tomatoes and broth and bring to a boil. Let simmer about one minute and add the parsley, basil, oregano, cayenne and brandy. 


            •   Add the clams, calamari and mussels and cover tightly. Cook until the clams and mussels open, about one and a half minutes. Add the crabmeat, stir gently and remove from the heat. 


           •   Bring 4 quarts of water to a boil and add fettuccini. Boil for 10-12 minutes until al dente. 


           •    To serve, divide the fettuccini and add equal portions of the clams and mussels to the top and then pour over the remaining fish and sauce. Serves 4.

About the novel . . .
She dreams a murder before it happens. A young woman is strangled while her killer sings the words from the lullaby, “Hush, Little Baby.”

Lacey Campbell’s life is full, but not idyllic. As head chef for a chic restaurant and primary caregiver to a mother with Alzheimer’s, she doesn’t have time for the nightmare and at first she tries to deny it. But the next day, she discovers it's a disturbing reality. When she dreams the second heinous murder she knows it’s time to tell the police.

Detective Ford Jamison is called back to the little coastal town to help with the case and soon notices an alarming trend: the killer is using the lullaby as a “blueprint” to target women who resemble Lacey. This doesn’t slow the killings and now Lacey is afraid to fall asleep at night because the next face she sees in her dream might be her own.

As a hurricane churns ever closer to the little coastal town, danger and suspicion spin out of control. Time is running out. Can they stop the killer before the last verse of the lullaby?

About the Author . . . 
Leanna Sain, earned her BA from the University of South Carolina before moving back to the NC mountains. She calls Miracle Hill Farm home, but she lives mostly in her imagination. Her Southern suspense or “GRIT-lit,” showcases her plot-driven method that successfully rolls elements of best-selling authors Mary Kay Andrews, Nicholas Sparks, and Jan Karon all together, making it her own. She loves leading discussion groups and book clubs. For more information or to contact her visit: www.LeannaSain.com

**Note from Leanna: I wrote Hush while my mother was in the final stages of Alzheimer’s. To honor her, I’m donating a portion of book sales to Alzheimer’s research. Please help by getting a copy, spreading the word, and writing a book review.

Where you can find Leanna:
Amazon
Facebook
Twitter
Website and blog
Goodreads