Soap for Jesus

When people ask me what I am, among the first words I use to describe myself is "author" or "writer". "Oooh! What do you write?" "Well, historical fiction mostly, started a bit of fantasy and my own autobiography." (That last usually gets a lot of laughter!) "Are you published?" "Well, sort of, yes." "Are you going to write a book about BMG? (My workplace)" I have to laugh at that one. "Maybe," because all experiences can be used. Then they go off into detailed descriptions of how I could use certain people and feature them and hide names, etc. So why am I writing this? Because I was thinking about it the other day. As life has gone on, and my friends and I have grown up, I am technically no longer recognised as an author in writing circles. I have little time in the current scheme of live to do more than scribble a few lines here and there, a few story ideas to be worked on when I hit that wond...

Oh my gosh. I'm actually going. That was pretty much my reaction Wednesday night when Mom, oh so casually, directed George to also casually place an envelope containing the exact amount of money I needed to pay for my flight to America. Of course, it shouldn't have been any more than a little nice surprise, but it was. Because all the jigsaw pieces had to fall into the right place at exactly the right time. I think it started back at the beginning of this year/end of last year. Mom promised me that because of my helping out with some of the bills, she would gift me a trip to America when the money came through. I had two choices - the OYAN Winter Workshop, or Laura and Daniel's wedding. I chose the wedding. Which meant that when the date was set, the money would have to be through. I plotted out the trip, and asked Mom if I could take an extra trip - yes, all okay. Then the money didn't come through. Because the solicitors had to sort it out. Etc, etc. Poor Mom, ...

People have posted and I meant to the night after OYAN ended, but stuff happened. Y'know, like stuff does. And now I'm curled up for half an hour, trying to think exactly how to say the stuff in my heart. Friday night, June 21st, ended OYAN Summer Workshop 2013. I'd gone back to my dorm to put some stuff down before coming back, and missed the prayer over Mr S. As I wandered back around the outskirts of the group praying and singing, eyes closed and tears streaming, Jonny came over to me, pulled me close and wrapped his arms around me. I crumbled against him and started crying. When I finally looked up as the crush of bodies increased, the OYAN people were three deep around me. I was nose to nose with Marybeth, also weeping, with Kristin's expressive chocolate eyes fixed on me with a sad, trembly smile on her lips. This place isn't just any place. This place is our home because we are all there. No, not even that. We could all be there and have no bond...

For the third time, this year, God willing, I hope to set foot on American soil. A place where my kinsmen emigrated, my ancestors fought, and my friends live. Each time has been a miracle - the kindness shown me by friends who both gave and anonymously sent money and my boss Lisa who invented jobs to pay me so I could go in 2011, and by American friends who took me in and also paid for me as I went across the States. The gracious miracle when my wages were higher than expected last year, 2012, figuring just enough money to go to both Ireland and America and cover our rent while I was gone. Now I'd like to share with you the miracle of 2013. :) God. Is. Amazing. And He provides. Like, when you don't expect Him to. This year's trip to OYAN was a lot weirder than expected... My colleague Jess Phelps (we are starting to interact a lot outside of work - she and Stephen are my two best friends at work) and I started kidding around about me taking her with me to Ame...

As Time itself drew to a close in Earth's final days, the system of life seemed to have gone back several hundred years. Feuds, wars between kings and knights that fought on horseback...beheading as capital punishment had become ways of life once more. One could almost believe that old TV shows and films, like Doctor Who, were a reality, for there were upon the Earth many strange beings, the like of which had never been seen from the dawn of Time until now. There arose a great and powerful Dark Knight who rode through the land, calling all the people who dwelt there in apparently ordinary lives to arms. For a millennium, the world had lain quietly under the guidance of one King who reigned supreme in Jerusalem, capital of the much torn land of Israel. Yes...the problems of the world had centred around this one small city in one tiny country, as the book of ancient prophesy had foretold it to be a stumbling block. And once more, a King reigned in Jerusalem as had not been his l...

It is so hard to express what this week has meant to me, that I'm going to post up a blog post from a note on Facebook, written by my brother Miguel, and a link to another written by my twin sister, Kiehl. I know...cop-out. ;) Please, please read them. And for what is in my heart regarding OYAN? And when the Spirit of God is in so many of us in one heart, one mind and one goal...then let there be LIGHT. And there will be dynamite. #OYAN I had to laugh tonight when someone told me that OYAN's focus on "religion" was "a big flaw", and "undermined OYAN's value." Oh. My. Days. How can people be so blind...? How can they not see that we would never be so bonded if it weren't for the love of Christ? How can I express the frustration I feel as I remember that 1 hr 45 mins prayer meeting on the last night, and how God moved in and through and united and calmed us and gave us that vision for the future? From Heaven to Earth by Miguel Flor...

(As most of you know, I'm in Overland Park, Kansas, staying with the Noe family for the One Year Adventure Novel - OYAN - Workshop 2012. Today, June 23, is the day after the workshop ended.) Sarah Noe is wearing a very cool t-shirt. It has on the back "Live, Move, Be", and a Scripture reference in Acts. I likey. I'm struggling to find words to say what's in my heart, so for right now, I'm just going to type out the little speech thingie I gave last night just before the final session ended. I was shaking, writing this. I wrote it and struggled with words, and re-read to find out that it said a lot that struck the chords inside of me, but nothing that really seemed to say my deepest emotions. I debated backing out of reading it...and the only reason I wrote it was so I'd stand less chance of crying on stage. I prayed God would bless it and that it would be used to bless, but it felt totally inadequate and I wasn't expecting Him to. I know this...

Not in chronological order. ;) _ On deciding to work on BfD, I found the second book and took it to work with me yesterday. I was chatting with Navpreet (my adopted daughter) about it casually during lunch break, and she asked to look at it. When she started to read it, she got so caught up she lost track of where she was. One - WHOOPS. Two - YAY! _ For the last two days, I've worn my OYAN t-shirt to work. It's amusing walking down the street and watching people read it. So were my colleagues at work - and liked it. (Yes, Mr. S., I'm attempting to infiltrate the whole of Britain with OYAN. Slowly. :P) This morning, carrying four heavy bags and hurrying towards work, I passed a guy who read it out loud as I walked past him. "My villain can beat up your villain?" And started laughing. I grinned. "Yep! And no arguing about it!" That was funny. _ After almost two years of waiting (cause I even got my close friends' names out of h...

No, it's not the Apostle. No, we haven't taken in anyone by the name of Peter, and yes, I'm still single and living under my mother's roof. Before y'all panic. For the past three years, I've undergone severe writer's block on "my novel", Born From Death. As some of you are aware, it was based on a conflict at my Squadron between a few cadets and myself, regarding Christianity, indecent talk on the Squadron, blasphemy, etc. In retaliation and the only method of revenge I could, I decided to write a book where my main antagonist was born again. Thus...Born From Death was born. Chapter 10 was written. Then sections from 2, 1, 11, 5, 12, 9 and 3. The plot was fitting together beautifully. I gave the book to Christ and asked Him to write and use it for His glory. Then the unthinkable happened. I fell in love with the guy my main character, Peter Westcott, was based off. And he left the Squadron one beautiful, painful month later. An...

I want to heal. Not because I want to be pain-free. Because I expect to feel pain in the future. If I don't, I'll be worried. No, I want to heal so I can minister to others without being focused on and blinded by pain. I want to use that pain - to USE it. Not to be lost in it. God can use everything - and that is why He has safely brought and is bringing me through. I want to use it to reach out to others - to know the pain in their broken hearts and not to guess at it. To give, love and live the love of Christ and be a vessel to bring healing to them. If you don't have any pain in your Christian life; be worried. If there is no pain, no matter how small or large - if you're just gliding along on a peaceful smooth trail - start praying. For whom the Lord loveth, He chasteneth. It doesn't have to be cyclonic. Just see if there's somewhere God is testing you or growing you. Even if it's trusting Him with school scores. ;) It's not because you haven...

Once upon a time, there were two men. They were born together, lived together, ate together, worked together, slept together. They were Siamese twins, perfect reproductions of each other in every mannerism. Except two things were strange. They looked the same as one man. Each had exactly half of that one body that they shared. The one had been born years before the other, corrupted from what it was meant to be. The soul that they shared was rotten through, but there remained within a touch of the original design, a thread of what it was meant to running through its core. One day, the breath of the original Designer, the One Who made the whole man with the perfect soul before the Corruption fell upon it, stirred the dust and bit through the grit on that soul. He brought it to life, once again, and the original Soul, faced with the choice between the Old Familiar, that is and never should have been, and the New Unknown, which is ageless and timeless, chose the New Unknown and reached out...

So. I wrote this random little skit today in between calls. (Yes, I was dialling! Just scribbling at the points when the phone was ringing.) This is taken from the perspective of a snobbish receptionist (ie, briskly efficient that disposes of researchers as wastes of precious time) and an interviewer driven mad/crazy by no surveys, non-stop calling and rude refusals. R: Receptionist I: Interviewer M: Manager (Interviewer stops banging head off the desk, assumes a calm air, picks up the phone and dials.) R: (pleasantly) Hello, this is Denise Arrington-Smith, secretary to Lord Harry Poncenby of the Willoughy Estates Learning and Support School. Can I help you? I: Hello! My name is Emily Willis and I'm calling on behalf of the Sunday Times. Can I speak to Lord Poncenby please? R: (suspiciously) Oh, I'm sorry...what did you say your name was again? I: (politely cheerful) Emily Willis. R: And your company name? I: I'm calling on behalf on the Sunday Times. R: Is that where you...

This is a big topic of small importance... I attended the OYAN Summer Workshop 2011 last year (well, obviously last year). And loved it and everything to pieces. (I think you were still intact when I got home though... *glances at her trident*) I spent two months in the States. 2 weeks in Kansas, 2 weeks in Oklahoma, 1 week in Oregon, 1 week in Texas and 2 more weeks in Kansas. June 15 - August 16. I am not a millionaire and family circumstances were such last year that it is a total miracle that I even got there, much less to travel that extensively. My families took care of me and loved me and God bless them very, very much. Thank you. I fell in love with America while I was there. I'm a passionate British patriot, but I feel two totally different ways about both countries. America and Britain are not perfect - but America is a new land. A beautiful land. A new life. A fresh start. And chock full of my friends and people I love. Long and short of this being, due to my family'...

Facebook and Twitter post: In demand in Kentucky, Tennessee, Ohio, Oregon, North Carolina, and Oregon. O.o Goodness... Matthew L: And Washington, though close enough to Oregon it might as well be the same. :P Arielle B: And Virginia! Miguel F: You forgot Florida *gasp* Mrs. Beals: What happened to Oklahoma?! Gracie G: Heck, just tour the whole USA. XDXDXD!

Darkness filled the street even as she gazed, crawling on and over everything in its path. It struck her, eliminating her shadow, filling her with chilled air. Goosebumps rose on her skin, and she gasped, feeling as though evil pervaded the night. Why was it this night felt so different to any other? She raised her gaze to the castle window once more...and the light flickered, and died. Had it died? Or had another, more evil hand dealt a blow to the King? She scrambled to her feet and ran towards the castle. Fleet of foot, swift as an arrow shot from a bow, but not hasty enough to escape six coal horses that galloped after her, hidden by the wings of the night. They surrounded her, visors unclosed, dark armour glistening by the light of a lantern that one held above his head. “One step too far, young Critak,” a creaky voice said. She looked up, eyes black and unreadable, standing out in her white face. “Not a moment too soon, Ahkrid” she answered. His horse sank on its knees with a str...

Posted blogs or video blogs? Both have something going for them. For video blogs, you see a person. You hear their voice, watch their mannerisms, observe their surroundings, recognise emotion, faint at accents, recall memories. It puts pressure on for instant thought, creative speech and expressive body language. In short, it contains a lot more of the physical person in a small confined space of time and image. Written blogs, however, can be long - as long as you like. They require extensive and interesting patterns of thought, creative writing and usage of words to carry the reader through to the end. Painting pictures with words and imagery is completely necessary to carry an idea or a thought that you wish to share. You use eyes and ears and heart to read into what a person is saying through their words. You use fingers to type it out. People feel much freer to express themselves when they aren't visually exposed. In short, writing blogs is supported by the mastery of conversan...

I'm nineteen years old with a fairly unusual past. I have two names and two personalities (no, I'm not schizo). I'm British (half Welsh, 3/8 English and 1/8 Irish with a dash of Scots), redheaded and passionately love my country to being willing to die for her. I love America and Americans dearly to wanting emigrate there. America is "the Promised Land" in spite of its failures, as Britain is "the Land of Hope and Glory" to Americans. I'm independent and very dependent. I'm silent and talkative. I love CCM rock and choral orchestral pieces. I'm crazy about the Royal Air Force, a member/cadet of the Air Training Corps and planning to join later as an officer, but I want to marry and have loads of kids. (As an ex-feminist to a degree, God's done really well on that one!!) I adore military drill, both narrowly watching it done, learning it in depth and performing it with precision. My soul overflows into music and song, both listening to, si...

Well, I was going to do one blog post. :P Then I decided to do the excited squeaky one first and the more serious thoughtful one (as such as my flimsy butterfly brain does in thoughtful areas) in a second post. :D Here are some of my tweets from Twitter. Strange how I can't spend a week outside the ER. >.> Gashed my foot open on a metal door and fainted today. #coolstuff Yep, I appear to LOVE the Emergency Room! I was in there last Sunday in Texas, and back there today! During the lunch break, I went to go back inside the building, opened the door - onto my toe. I was instantly aware of the pain, but toughed it out as usual. I thought it was a graze as I walked across the lobby, then the blood started to well, and it was dark red - and kept coming. I stopped and called for Carolyn and Grace. Another woman, Jennifer, stepped forward and asked if I needed help. I said, yes please, and they looked at my foot and sent to fetch the nurse who was there - Becky. Next ...

Sitting in front of the lectern the final day, watching Mr. S. stand there and thank us all for being part of OYAN, for being who we were, for wanting to change the world through our writing and being willing to let God use it, the word I'd been looking to describe him struck me. Humble. Most of us would describe Mr. and Mrs. S. as totally awesome, epic, amazing, pirate-ninja people, and lovers of writing - and writers. All of which is totally true. But there's something different about the Schwabauers that has impacted all of our lives in a way that most authors fail to. Sure, one part of it is that they created the most phenomenal writing curriculum out, because, not being content with creating his own people and world, Mr. S. had the passion and creativity and calling to share his gifting with others. Something that most authors wouldn't do, but would just be content to sit back and collect their laurels. Another part of it is that they have the most epic writing Worksho...

Tonight, as you all know, OYANers convene in Olathe, Kansas. I'VE MET SOME!!!!!! *screech* We have, staying at the Garners, Wayfarer - Lindsey, Hakuna Matata - Erynn, Narniahannah - Hannah. Downstairs in the basement, silence and peace surrounds the sleeping forms of Rachel (Nairam), Grace (Grace), Carolyn, Erynn and Hannah. Um. Not in the corner of the next room on Jane's bed where Lindsey and I are curled up with my computer exploring Google Earth. At nearly 2 am. Lindsey moves over because of cramp in her foot and nearly sits on my eyelash curler. Me: Watch it! Lindsey: Oh, it's an eyelash curler. Me: Yes! It goes squeeze, umph and the eyelashes curl up. Lindsey: I know, I have one! Mine's Mary Kay. It's less sophisticated. Me: What's Mary Kay? Lindsey: You don't know who Mary Kay is...? Me:...nooooo? Lindsey: She's like this big make-up and skin care entrepreneur and she's really famous. Did you know Mary Kay even has her own copyrighted colour o...