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I have a friend who smuggles Bibles and Bible-study material into China. The communist government frowns on this sort of activity. It is a dangerous thing my friend does. You can imagine my confusion then, a couple months ago, when I was wandering through The Dollar Tree, and discovered a bin of New Testaments. I flipped through one and discovered that it was…made in China. I was at the Dollar Tree again (to those who never go to such places–everything in the Dollar Tree is–you guessed it–one dollar). I was picking up candy for my grandkids’ Easter Baskets. Had filled my buggy with cute little candy rabbits, etc. Then it struck me. I wondered where all this stuff had been made. Started reading back labels. Made in China. Made in China. Made in China. Well what-do-you-know…..this one is made in America! I put the made in China candy back on the shelf and started foraging for made-in-America candy, and there was plenty. All I had to do was look. Same price. Wandered on down the aisle. I’ve been a little nose-out-of-joint lately because a card company I used to love working for, Hallmark, has begun to outsource their jobs to […]

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My third published novel came out yesterday and is doing really well. I’m especially grateful for this book to be read because in a small way, it is my own story. No–I never came out of the Swartzentruber Amish faith–but like many Christians, I had to trudge through a whole lot of legalism before I understood the power, the mercy, and the freedom of God’s grace. It became the difference between life and death to me. It became the difference between breathing freely–or barely breathing at all. A reader just sent me an e-mail saying that she saw two complicated love stories going on in An Uncommon Grace–the one between my Amish hero and military heroine, and the one between my hero and God. I hadn’t though of it in those terms, but she’s right. I have some very smart readers.  

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I’ve given two talks in the past 48 hours. One to a group of aspiring writers at my local library, another to a book discussion group a couple hours away. Both had dreamers there with stories in their soul who have always wanted to write. Nearly all were people who had put these dreams on hold while they raised families, tended to ill parents,and  worked demanding jobs. Most were at a point in their lives where they finally had the time to write–but assumed they were too old at 40, or 50, or 60 to try for publication. When I began seriously writing and submitting at age 50, I “knew” I was too old–but felt compelled to at least try. At my first writers conference where I shakily pitched my first book to a New York editor, I was astonished to find out that my age didn’t seem to be a consideration. The only thing that mattered to her was whether or not my writing was any good. She accepted a manuscript, read it, and turned it down with suggestions for improvement–not because of my age but because the novel’s structure was dicey. I was sixty years old when my […]

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