Dear Friends,

       Last night while watching the election results pour in, our family had many thoughtful and emotional discussions. We listened to the reports and we read the Sermon on the Mount from Matthew 5-7. We shared our hopes and concerns, our uncertainties and fears, and we came away with a plan for how to handle ourselves and our role as US citizens over the next four years.
      
       First, President Elect Barack Obama deserves our respect and support, and most of all our prayers. We do not reflect Christ or serve each other when we are angry or divisive to our neighbors, classmates, co-workers or community members. As a family, we agreed that we should not compromise on our morals or beliefs, and we should always stand for the truth as it is presented in the Bible. But we must also work together. As a people, we must seek to tear down walls between us and get back to one-anothering – the way Christ taught us.

       Last night, we listened to Obama’s acceptance speech and we were moved in many ways. If Obama helps to bring about the many noble and heartrending promises he made yesterday, we will all win. If we do, our nation’s character and strength truly could be revived. We could become a people who care more deeply for each other, and who strive to be strong as one nation, under God. We could learn the value of service and sacrifice, family and faith, spending less time on wasted hours of MTV, CNN, and SNL. Obama mentioned having no tolerance for people who strive to tear us down, and he talked about the importance of patriotism. At the end of his powerful speech, Obama asked God to bless the people of the U.S.
      
       When his time at the podium was up, our family talked about the next step, and we agreed that it is time to pray more diligently than before, and without ceasing – as the Bible says. We must be part of the solution, and we must exhibit the fruits of the spirit – Love, Joy, Peace, Patience, Goodness, Kindness, Gentleness, and Self Control. Only then can we be a light for Christ, the salt of the Earth – as God commands.

       We finished the night directing our minds and hearts to the true source of hope and peace for the United States and the world – our Savior, Jesus Christ. Our hope is not in the Republican party or the Democratic party. It is not in McCain or Obama, or any other elected official. Our hope is in Jesus Christ.

       And to that end, on this day, we rejoice.

In His love and light,
Karen Kingsbury

Karen and Donald Celebrate Twenty Years of Marriage

Dear Friends,

    Donald and I celebrated twenty years of marriage this past summer, twenty years that have flown by in what has felt like so many brilliant moments.
    For our anniversary, we took a few days and traveled back to Southern California, to many of the places where we hung out while we were dating.
    We stayed in Santa Monica and biked along the beach path from the pier north to Will Rogers State Beach and south to Marina Del Ray and back again, and we drove to the Valley and spent a day driving down memory lane.
    One of our first stops was at the house just south of Ventura Boulevard where we rented a small garage apartment when we were first married. Back then, the homeowner called the little place “the bunker” and rented it to us for just $100 a month – because it was more of a bomb shelter than a dwelling.
    The new homeowner was kind and trusting, she welcomed us into her backyard so we could take a picture standing in front of the bunker. We remembered the place being small – but not this small. Truly the bunker was barely large enough to open the used sofa bed where we shared a year of nights.
    Later that day we drove to Pierce College – where Donald first learned of me by reading my feature articles in the Pierce newspaper. During our dating days we went to Pierce often, so we could jog and walk the track. We took countless troubles and trials to God in the course of an hour-long workout at Pierce College – especially in the first few years after we married.
    We drove by the Los Angeles Daily news where I was a sports writer and later a front-page feature writer, and we passed slowly by the hospitals where Kelsey and then Tyler were born, and we took a trip past an apartment and another house where we lived at one time or another in those first ten years of marriage.
    We also went to the neighborhood where I grew up – in West Hills – and parked across the street for a time to look at the house where my parents and siblings and I lived from the time I was ten until I married Donald. I could still see my dad, sitting on the brick planter out front, waiting for us to stop by with the grandkids.
    For the trip, I wrote Donald a letter reminding him of all God had brought us through – the early years with Kelsey and Tyler, the move to Arizona, the journey to Washington State, Austin’s heart surgery, the adoption of our three boys from Haiti, and the adventure of all God is doing in our lives.
    We read the letter together, and then I presented him with a CD containing twenty songs that represented our twenty years of marriage. We played it while we drove around remembering, holding hands and – on occasion – fighting the tears because if twenty years could go so fast . . . well, the rest of the ride is bound to go even faster.
    But with all the laughter and love, with all the reflecting on days gone by, there was something about the bunker that stayed with us. God has brought us a great distance since the days of the bunker, but we were both struck by one profound thought. The joy we share, the romance and relationship between us has remained unchanged. The bigger house and higher income have not added to our love for God or each other.
    If life changed and we wound up back in the bunker, we would still have all we needed to be happy – our health, our hope in Christ, and our hearts – joined together these past twenty years.
    I pray that each of you might take this moment to reflect on the journey you’ve traveled, and to know that God, who is driving, will take us safely home through the highs and lows, the bunkers and better neighborhoods – regardless of what we’ve gone through or what we are going through.
    Our job is only to enjoy the ride.
And hey, Donald . . . I pray God gives us many more decades together.

Until next time,
Karen

Dear Friends,

      This is very important. Please take time on this day to join me in praying for the families of those lost in the terrorist attacks seven years ago. Several of you have written to me and said that you feel especially aware of the loss that took place on that day because you’ve read my 9-11 series books – Book 1- One Tuesday Morning and Book 2- Beyond Tuesday Morning and coming November 11th, 2008, Book 3- Every Now and Then. I feel the same way. I will never forget my days at Ground Zero, the looks on the faces of the people who worked or volunteered at St. Paul’s Chapel, or the letters from firefighters who read those books and afterward were led by God into a time of healing.
    Austin asked me a poignant question recently. “Mom,” he said, “have the terrorists attacked the United States since September 11?” I gave him a sad smile. “No, son. God has helped our military and our leadership keep America safe from terrorists since that time.” Afterward I had to remind myself that for all the negative press, our leadership must be doing something right.
Our nation is in the middle of a very heated political race, and I encourage you to research the candidates. In most cases, the press will not give you the whole or honest story. I know this because I spent several years as a journalist, and the mindset on the staffs of our nation’s newspapers and television news programs remains very one-sided.
      This country’s future, the freedoms we all enjoy, hang in the balance as we cast each precious vote. Whatever you do – make sure you vote. In fact, you can take a straw poll this very day. I found this link on AOL’s website, so that today – in honor of those who gave their lives on 9-11, and in honor of those who have given their lives in the fight for freedom since that time, you can express your opinion at a virtual straw poll. Click here to vote now, and remember you can vote once a week until the election to let your opinion be heard.
As you vote, I think you’ll find the results shocking. Not surprisingly, I’ve never seen the results from this poll – which has run on AOL for months now – reported in any news story.
Again, I am privileged to join with you in praying for and honoring those who have lost so much because of 9-11. Let us never, ever forget the sacrifice that has been made on our behalf, or the pain inflicted on so many that tragic day. May God continue to bless America, and may we who believe in His truth and providence, continue to say so.

Until next time,
Karen

Dear Friends,

    We are a community of readers, people who love to be moved by the power of story. Today I want to share with you the story of Shirley Luhring, one of my readers from Parkersburg, Iowa. Shirley and her daughter, Toni, and others in their family have loved reading my books, seeing the similarities between real life and fiction. Last week, on May 25, Parkersburg was struck by an F5 tornado. Shirley and her husband, Herman, sought refuge in their basement, in the shower stall of a bathroom – the safest possible place. But the tornado destroyed their home and filled the basement with debris. Herman was seriously injured and Shirley was taken home to be with our Lord.

    When rescue workers found them, they were still clinging to each other – but Shirley was dead. One person said Shirley went from the arms of her love to the arms of the Lord. The next day, someone asked Herman what was one thing people could pray for in his situation. He said simply this: “Thank God for all of the blessings He has given me in my life.” One regret Herman had – that Shirley didn’t get to read the final book in the Sunset Series. Shirley’s funeral is today. Herman’s hope is that one person might give their life to the Lord as a result of his story. Please keep Herman and the others that were affected in this tornado in your prayers.

Here is my letter to Herman...
Dear Herman,
I grieve with you in the loss of your precious Shirley. Your daughter, Joni, told me about your love, and the way you held onto each other until the end - the way God pictured marriage to be. I like to believe - based on biblical research about heaven - that Shirley will have a window, and that as Joni and the rest of the readers in the family settle in to enjoy the last segment of the Baxter Family, your precious Shirley will be smiling, enjoying the ending right along with them. Joni mentioned that it would be wonderful to see Shirley as a character in one of my books . . . but in many ways she represents so many of my characters. From the wonderful details Joni shared with me, Shirley loved her family like Elizabeth Baxter, and cared for others like Kari. She couldn't wait for the books, so she showed the spunk of Ashley and clearly she had a love for children the way Katy and Erin did. I'm sure, Herman, that when Shirley read about John Baxter, she felt she was reading about you - a loving, devoted man of God who would shelter her and care for her through every stage of life. No wonder she loved the Baxter series. She lived it out with all of you in all the very best ways. In everything good that happened to the Baxters, in all the ways they loved and leaned on each other, in their laughter and leftover nights . . . Shirley could see her own life.

I'm honored that a woman as precious and special as Shirley would've spent her time reading my novels. I'm amazed when I think that as I headed off to my writing room all those days, absorbed in this series that God was placing on my heart, God had the face of Shirley in mind, the face of those that Shirley lovethe readers in mind. He had the face of Shirley in mind, even as I wrote the Baxter Family series.

Tomorrow, as you celebrate Shirley's life, I will hold all of you in prayer. Please know that I read Joni's letter in tears, and I shared it with my family. Your story will stay with me always. Maybe tonight Shirley has found a friend in my dad, who went home to our Lord in September. My dad loved the Baxters. He called the series a Hope Opera. I'm sure they would have a lot in common.

I thank God for the love and faith of people like you, Herman. You and Shirley have created a legacy for all to learn from. I pray that many, many people will come to know the Lord because of the example you and Shirley have set, and the one you continue to set with your undefeatable faith.
Thank you for sharing a little of Shirley with me. I wish we had known each other here in this life, as I'm sure we would've been friends.

In His light and love,

Karen Kingsbury

Dear Friends,

    My novel Summer touched a very sensitive and tender nerve with many of you. By now many of you have read it, but still I will talk about it here in a way that doesn’t give enough details to ruin the story. One of the storylines in Summer is the diagnosis and eventual death of a baby due to anencephaly – a neural tube defect that is always fatal. Babies that live to their delivery date will only have a few days before going home to heaven. When I wrote Summer, I feared it might be too depressing – but God showed me a way to make that story full of hope and miracles – the kind we don’t always look for. In the process, God is using that book to touch the hearts of countless women and families who have lost babies – whether through miscarriage or a birth defect or an accident.

    The overriding message in Summer is that life is precious and valuable – that any amount of life is God-given. Life is God’s to give and His to take, and we, His creation, are not to set varying degrees of value on life merely because the number of a person’s days are shorter than we’d planned.

    With that message, hundreds of you wrote to say that in light of losing a child, you finally felt whole and healed after reading Summer. The letters streamed in and I cried as I read them. One reader wrote to say, “I lost my baby forty-two years ago, and as I read Summer, God allowed me to feel that baby boy in my arms once more. I could smell his sweet baby smell and feel his fingers against mine – something I haven’t been able to do since he died. It was as if God were reassuring me that one day . . . one day sooner than later, I will hold him again.”

    Another reader sent in her own story about a recent diagnosis of anencephaly for the baby she was currently carrying. Because of reading Summer, she and her husband understood that their time with this child is short. They rented a sonogram machine so they could listen to their baby’s heartbeat whenever they wanted.

    “Thank you for giving me a direction in facing the journey ahead,” she wrote. Attached at the bottom of her email was a sound clip.

    Her baby girl’s heartbeat.

    Women wrote to tell of feeling validated in their loss – after years or decades of holding onto their grief silently. Their babies might not have lived long, but they did live, and they did count for something special.

    I can only say I was overwhelmed by your response, and that I pray for you and grieve with you in the loss of your little ones. But I know – like so many of you told me - you will be with your children again one day. God has a purpose for them greater in heaven than on earth – as difficult as that is to understand. Somehow, in the flash of brilliance that marks the brief life of a baby who dies young, we are reminded more than ever the value of life itself. How much every day must count – for our faith, our families, and our eternity.

    Among the hundreds of letters that came in about Summer, a Youtube Video Clip came up. It is one you simply must see. The video details a family’s diagnosis and acceptance of anencephaly, and the brief life of their tiny son. Watching this video, I felt like a scene from Summer had come to life. You can’t watch it without tears, but somehow they are tears of joy – that God would allow even a very brief life to bring much joy and love, and to change the hearts of people toward Him. Please watch it . . . and come away with a deep gratitude for every day you have with your own families, your own children and grandchildren, nieces and nephews.

Thanks for listening.
In His light and love,

Karen Kingsbury

Dear Friends,

I thought I’d offer my insight on one of the new reality shows to hit this fall – Moment of Truth. In the weeks leading up to this show, I was horrified by the advertisements for this show.
   
“I can’t believe they’re really going to take that show on the air,” I would say when the commercial came on. “It’ll have people selling their souls to the devil.”

My kids tended to laugh lightly at my comments. “Come on, Mom, it isn’t that bad,” one of my boys said. And another said, “It actually looks kind of interesting.”

“Like watching a train wreck,” I said. The conversation was not too intense or too deep, but I suggested we all watch the debut so we could talk about it. When the first show came around, my family and I tuned in. What we saw that night made me shocked and saddened, and caused me to wonder where we are headed as a society.

If you haven’t heard about Moment of Truth, let me explain. A contestant must bring three very special people onto the show – typically a spouse, a boss, and a very close friend. Siblings and parents are also fair game.

Then the contestant is strapped to a lie detector machine and placed in a chair at the center of the stage. The game involves a dramatic host asking the contestant a series of painfully difficult and private questions. Each round involves a higher cash prize, and a host of progressively more probing and personal questions.

At any point, if the lie detector machine senses a lie, the contestant is immediately finished and takes home no money whatsoever.

The host knows what question is coming – so he can engage the contestant in what seems like harmless banter and then move in for the killer question. On the first episode, a handsome young physical trainer was the contestant. Seated in the circle with him were his beautiful wife, his boss, and a close friend. The banter leading up to one question went something like this:

“So you consider yourself a professional in your line of work as a physical trainer, right?”
The answer – not judged by a lie detector test, came easily off the contestant’s tongue. “Oh, yeah. Definitely. You have to be professional when you’re working with people in a physical setting.”

The host allowed a dramatic pause. “Okay, then . . . to continue your quest for a hundred thousand dollars, answer the following question truthfully: ‘In the course of your work, have you ever touched a client inappropriately?’” The host stares at the contestant. “Your answer?”

In the circle with the contestant, his wife sat a little straighter and blinked a few times. A nervous, tentative smile appeared on her lips. Next to her, the man’s boss raised one eyebrow. The entire studio audience seemed to hold its collective breath.

The contestant uttered a shaky sigh and squirmed in his seat. He gave a few dramatic head shakes, and glanced just for a moment at his wife. Then he turned his attention back to the host, gritted his teeth and said, “Yes.”

A shocking gasp came from the clearly coached studio audience, and after a few seconds a computerized voice announced. “The answer is correct.”

If the man’s wife could’ve crawled through a hole in the floor, it sure seemed like she would’ve. She looked down for a few seconds, and then squinted at her husband in what looked like deep hurt and betrayal. Her face seemed to say, How could you do that? And how could you talk about it on national television?

The questions got worse.
Over the next few minutes – in his quest to win more and more money – the man said yes to a question about whether he’d had detailed thoughts about other women, and yes to a question about whether the reason he was holding out on having children was because he truly didn’t think his wife was “the one” for him.

There were other questions about his work and his friendships.

It was like watching an emotional lynching. In the end, the man attempted to lie his way through one particularly difficult question, and the machine caught him. The contestant, his wife, his boss, and his friend were dismissed, faces pale and drawn. The man’s prize money? Zero.

When the show was over, Don and I talked to the kids about the Bible and how God is clear that people cannot serve both God and money. God asks us to love one another, to encourage and uplift one another, and to think of others as better than ourselves.

This new reality show asks people to do the exact opposite – all for the love of money. I’m not sure what will become of this trainer and his marriage, his job, or his personal life but I know this:
He was willing to sell it all for the sake of cold, hard cash.

As we talked about the show and the Bible, a light began to dawn in the eyes of each of our kids. “Wow . . . you’re right, Mom,” our oldest said. “This really is a terrible show.”
“Yeah,” our middle son said. “When you think about it, they’re coming on the show because they care more about money than the people closest to them.”

Exactly.

In our greedy, realty-crazed culture, it is difficult not to watch as someone takes the contestant’s chair and sets about selling out their family and friends. It’s so horrific, we can barely look away. But as a society, as believers in Jesus Christ, we must choose to look away, to not glorify a life that is in direct opposition to God’s calling for us to love.

For our family, the Moment of Truth was a great reminder that we are not to trample the people God has placed in our lives. We are to love them more than ourselves. Let’s agree to take a stand today against this type of ultimate greed. Let’s counter the message of the Moment of Truth with an extra bit of kindness and generosity, an effort at even more encouragement as we go through this week.

Because only when we understand God’s directive to love one another, will we really find ourselves in a moment of truth.

Dear Friends,

This week my friends at Tyndale Publishers granted me a gift. They extended my deadline for Sunset – the final book in the Sunrise Series - and moved the publication date from April 22, 2008, to September 23, 2008. The reason? They wanted to show compassion and understanding toward me because of the time I’ve spent grieving the loss of my dad. Let me explain.

Most of us think of a book based on its release date, but in the world of publishing we think in terms of a due date. Typically a book is released in bookstores six to twelve months after a manuscript is turned in. Time is needed to educate sales reps about the storyline, and more time is required to sell the book into major book chains. Time is necessary to market and publicize the book, and of course it takes time to run a manuscript through the cover design and printing process.

Originally, I planned to turn in my manuscript for Sunset in late summer, early fall of 2007. Instead, as most of you know, my dad had a major heart attack on July 10, while I was at the International Christian Retail Show in Atlanta, GA. Miraculously he survived the initial attack and was completely coherent over the next ten weeks while fighting for life in the intensive care unit. I spent that time split between home and the hospital, consoling my kids and family – each of whom were very close to their Papa – and holding a vigil at his hospital room. I brought my laptop each day, intending to write. But the real-life story playing out before me did not allow me the emotional energy to create fiction.

In addition, I had other books releasing, book tours and speaking events. All of that would’ve worked out to be a busy but manageable schedule had my dad not gotten sick. But this is the very thing that I write about – how people handle the unexpected, how Christians cling to their faith and their families when times get tough. My dad passed away September 14, and after that we had several weeks of close family time. Once October arrived, there were speaking engagements and book tours that took me through early December.

Sunset is nearly finished as I write this. My time of grieving my dad will never really end; I know that much better now. But the gaping hole left by his absence will lessen in time, the raw edges will heal as life takes on a new look and a new sense of normalcy. Already this is happening. I am just recently back to writing at the pace I’m accustomed to – a pace that is not something I can choose at will. Tyndale reached a point where they no longer wanted to push me toward a deadline that was unattainable, but rather they chose to grant me a slightly less intense pace to allow for the needs of my family. Again, you may know that my three full-time assistants are my mother, my sister, and my husband. So when my dad got sick and eventually died, we were all very affected.

I write this to thank you in advance for your kindness through the years, and for your gracious understanding about the change in publication date for Sunset. The time between book 3 and book 4 is not an inordinate amount. There were seven months between the release of Summer and Someday, and now there will be seven months between the release of Someday and Sunset. The original plan – just eight weeks between books 3 and 4 – really was too rushed, anyway.

In the meantime, Between Sundays will release this spring in paperback. Many of you have told me it’s your favorite book, so if you didn’t yet buy it in hardback or find it at your library, spring will be a great chance for you to have a novel between now and fall. Also, my newest children’s title – Let’s Go on a Mommy Date –will be in stores well before Mother’s Day. This picture book – much like my Let Me Hold You Longer – will create a fun and sentimental experience for you and your precious little ones. The message is simple. There are many things we could do on a mommy date, and someday we’ll do them. But for right now, it’s wonderful just to sit together sharing a book. “So that come some far off day . . . you’ll know how much I loved you ‘cause we took the time to play.”

Oh, and one more bit of news. My stand-alone novel This Side of Heaven will release in late July. That book will be a tribute to my brother, who passed away in his sleep two years ago. So while none of us want to wait longer for Sunset, there will be lots along the way to keep you busy reading. Again, please know that I pray for you daily. I am beyond grateful for your kindness and loyalty, and I truly consider you my friends. I know you will understand that this delay is the price we’ve had to pay to allow me and my family a time of mourning. Please feel free to share your feelings with me through my website’s contact link.

In His light and love,

Karen Kingsbury

This is the part of Christmas I like most of all. The house is decorated, presents are bought, and I’m able to settle down and truly take in the feeling and meaning of Christmas. The sameness of it, the eternal hope of it. Silent Night and White Christmas play softly in the background of our home while the twinkling lights and reds and greens warm the atmosphere. We talk of tradition and giving and the amazing gift of God Almighty wrapping Himself in flesh and coming to dwell among us. Only one thing is missing this Christmas.
My wonderful father.
Ted Kingsbury loved everything about Christmas – the traditions, the church services, the old traditional carols, the classic movies, and the reason for the season. My dad didn’t pass through Christmas; he embraced it. The way I do, because of him. The way I pray my kids will embrace Christmas when they have families of their own.
Part of taking in Christmas, is looking back over the past year and all it brought, all that happened and will never happen again. The laughter, the long seasons. The lasts.
Even back in January, we had a suspicion that my dad’s time here was short. He was on dialysis and getting weaker as the days passed. The idea of a grand family reunion in San Diego came to us just after last Christmas, and through the winter months we began making the plan a reality. Airfare and hotels were booked, and because my dad couldn’t travel by air, he and my Mom and Tricia and Lynne and their kids all made train reservations.
Amidst the planning, early in the New Year my dad passed out at the dialysis center and broke his lower leg. He was hospitalized for a week, and then moved to a convalescent facility where he spent the next seven weeks. During that time, I was busy writing books and attending my kids’ performances of Pocahontas. There were basketball games and soccer practices and deadlines, so the visits to see my dad came only a few times each week.
What struck me day after day, was my dad’s unbeatable spirit. He was flat on his back trapped in a place where people randomly cried out for help or shouted things about visitors who weren’t there, yet my dad never lost hope. Never. Truth is, I never even once saw him discouraged. We redecorated his temporary room, placed framed Scripture on the walls and covered the bare spots with hand-drawn pictures from the kids. At the end of the seven weeks, my dad’s leg was healed. For a man at the end stages of diabetes and kidney failure, having a complete healing of a broken bone was miraculous.
During his healing time, my dad and I had many, many precious hours together. I brought him my novels in large print, and he poured through them. Whereas he hadn’t really read one of my books in quite some time, this seven-week stay in bed allowed him to catch up. He loved reading my books. He would sit up in bed, eyes wide and full of enthusiasm, and he would hold my hand and we’d talk about the plot and characters. I never would’ve thought that my dad’s broken leg could be such a gift, but it was. I learned much about how a person can respond with joy and faith in a dire situation.
Spring came and with it more books and deadlines, more speaking events, and long days of baseball and practice for the next CYT play – Suessical. My dad was never more proud of his grandkids than he was down the stretch of his life. He attended Austin’s baseball game, cheering from his van, parked on the crest of the grassy hill overlooking the field. During the games, Dad would call me for updates on the score or for clarification on a play, or to make sure I knew that he’d seen Austin’s great hit.
In Suessical, Kelsey was a Bird Girl, and Tyler was cast as Cat in the Hat – the lead character. My dad and Tyler talked often about the development of the show and how it was coming together. When the show’s opening came, my dad had to go to dialysis that afternoon. Before the show started, my dad was having chest pains. Donald asked if he needed a ride to the hospital, but my dad wouldn’t hear of it. He would’ve sooner died there in the back row, than miss opening night of Tyler’s first lead role in a musical. Tears glistened on his cheeks that night as Tyler took the final bow. Many more times throughout the run of the show my dad was in attendance. One of the last videos I have is of my proud Dad congratulating Tyler after the closing night’s performance.
Summer came, and we set off for the much-anticipated Family Reunion. The Kingsburys, Barnes, Kasabas, and Parsons, and two generations of cousins were reunited. My dad simply beamed through every long sunny day while we were in San Diego. He parked his motorized chair poolside and watched his family play and laugh and dance and reconnect. Nights were fantastic, as we gathered in one room and told stories from the old days, stories that made us laugh until we cried.
We left San Diego full of gratitude for our time together. Just a few days later, I went to Atlanta for the Christian Bookseller’s Annual Convention. There, I attended an awards show where my book, Even Now, was named Book of the Year. It was the first time the award had gone to a novel. My dad was thrilled for me, and that night he and my Mom and Tricia sent a fruit basket to my room. The next day, my dad was entering reader e-mail addresses into my master list – a part-time job he had just started, when he suddenly appeared to have passed out again.
My nephew Andrew, who was 12 at the time, was home that day. He knew something was terribly wrong and he called 9-1-1. For the next twenty minutes, an operator walked Andrew through doing CPR on my dad, who was still in his recliner. There was no heartbeat, no breathing, no response whatsoever, even after the paramedics arrived and continued their life-saving efforts. Finally, a police officer pulled my mom aside and asked her if she believed in Jesus. She told him she did. “Okay then,” he looked intently, “we need to pray right now.” The officer proceeded to pray that the power that raised Lazarus from the dead would breathe life into my father once more.
The moment he said, “In Jesus’ name, amen,” from the other room one of the paramedics shouted, “We’ve got a heartbeat!” That was true by the end of the day and into the next, but doctors warned us that my dad would never come out of his coma, that his brain would most certainly be very damaged from a lack of oxygen.
But God granted us another miracle. My dad woke from his coma, and for nearly two months my dad was his happy, eternally positive, loving self. We gathered in his room at the ICU and held hands around him, praying for God’s healing. We sang hymns and friends stopped in to play the guitar and the violin. We showed him videos of the soccer and football and theater moments he was missing, and I made sure to say everything I could’ve ever wanted to say – that I love him, that I wouldn’t have continued as a writer without him, and that I’m grateful for every moment of being his daughter. Each day, each hour was a gift and we were grateful beyond words.
God took him home on September 14 – almost two years exactly after we lost my brother, Dave. Now they are together with my dad’s dad – Grandpa Kingsbury, and one day we will share in another reunion – the greatest one of all.
This year, Christmas makes me cry more – every day just about. Tears come with the singing of O Holy Night, and with the watching of our favorite Christmas movies. They come as I decorate the tree and as I drive home through streets decked out for the celebration. And most of all they come as my kids’ have their moments of sadness, missing their Papa. But the tears this Christmas also come with great joy and great anticipation, because here is what Christmas is really about. The hope of mankind, that this life is only the bus stop, the waiting room. The great party is on the other side.
That’s what Jesus in a manger means, more now than ever.
I pray this finds you anticipating Christmas with great joy and hope, knowing that our light and momentary troubles cannot compare with the great celebration awaiting us. My dad understands that better this Christmas. If he were here, he would tell us to mend broken relationships, make time for traditions, and marvel at the Christ child’s majesty.
When I count my blessings, I count you. May you find much love this Christmas and in the coming New Year,

In His light and love,

Karen, Donald, Kelsey, Tyler, Sean, Josh, EJ, and Austin

November 2, 2007

Dear Friends,

Ever plan one of those birthday gifts that winds up being everything you dreamed it might be?

That’s how it was this year with Tyler’s 15th birthday. He wanted only one thing – tickets to the Hannah Montana concert. My first look for tickets left me thinking I’d be crazy to even try to find seats for the show. But through a series of events, I got hold of eight tickets. Next, somehow, I was able to snag eight back-stage passes.

I presented this gift to Ty for his birthday and he was thrilled beyond words. So the concert comes around this past Tuesday and it was great fun. Hannah Montana – who is really Miley Cyrus – put on a super high energy, fantastic show replete with creative, colorful sets, costumes, and dance routines. Everyone in the packed Rose Garden left with smiles on their faces.

Now the time had come to meet the real Miley Cyrus.

Ty and I had agreed before the show that Miley was a young teenager, much the way he was, and that in some ways she was like any other kid. Except she’s Hannah Montana, which means she’s very visible and has a lot of extra pressure. I think his heart sort of went out to her as we made our way to the front of her meet-and-greet line. Also, I told Ty and the rest of our group we’d probably only have a few seconds to meet her. Didn’t matter. They were all beyond excited, and still bopping to the beat of the concert.

Finally it was our turn. I went first, since I brought her a copy of my novel, Ever After. I introduced myself and barely finished saying my last name when she gasped and slid her chair back. “What? Are you serious? I can’t believe it! You’re my favorite author!” She stood up, her eyes wide. “Can I hug you?”

Well.

My kids are behind me with their jaws on the ground. Hours earlier they’d seen me burn the pumpkin seeds for the fifth straight October, and to them I was, at best, a mom who meant well but couldn’t really seem to cook without setting off the smoke alarm. And here was Hannah Montana saying, “Someone get my mom . . . get my sister! They won’t believe it! Karen Kingsbury’s here!”

After she finished with her line, Miley and her mom and sister talked with us and explained that they loved my books. Miley’s mother, Tish, has read every one . . . same with her sister, Brandi, who plays in the band. We exchanged contact information, and agreed to get together soon – when Miley’s tour and my busy winter are behind us. In the end, before we parted ways, my husband Don suggested we all circle up and pray.

On the way home, we talked about how I was right – behind the scenes Miley Cyrus is just like any other kid. She has a great deal of fame today, something that carries with it a sense or responsibility and privilege. I can tell you that Miley is as sweet as they come. She loves God and her family, and she’s very unaffected by what’s happening around her. Miraculously unaffected. Her family is very solid and grounded in their faith.

Seeing her in person, realizing that our families have much in common, was not the “star” experience Tyler thought it was going to be. Instead it was something much more. It was a chance for our kids to meet someone they can pray for, someone who will pray for them in return. A chance to make a friend, in a way only God could bring about.

Talk about your unforgettable birthday gifts!

I can hardly wait to see what God does next.

October 12, 2007

Dear Friends,

When yesterday’s article about Naperville Central High School appeared in the Naperville Sun, I wanted to wait a day before commenting. As you know, Naperville Central’s librarian Lauren Peterson refused my gift of two copies of A Thousand Tomorrows. She said the book did not fit her library’s rigorous standards because – in part – it had a “predictable love story.” She also said she would not consider a review from a “Christian source.”

I’ve had time to think about Ms. Peterson, her words and her actions. I am not angry at her or at the school’s administration. It comes as no surprise that a bias exists against Christian literature. I believe without question that my books were rejected because I am a Christian writer. If we are to take our faith seriously – as I know we do – then we must show great compassion and grace toward Ms. Peterson.

But that does not mean we remain silent on the matter.

Two years ago when my brother Dave died in his sleep at age 39, he was in the middle of helping me with a project. “Some people can’t afford books,” he told me. “Why don’t you donate your novels to public high schools?” Our grandmother was a librarian, after all, and I agreed. The donation was a worthwhile idea.

Dave was in the process of gathering school names and addresses when he died. This fall, I have people helping me stamp the inside of 5,000 copies of A Thousand Tomorrows – my brother’s favorite book. The stamp reads, “In Memory of David Kingsbury, 1966 - 2005.” I had no motive in donating the books, other than to follow through with a project of giving, one that would honor God and my brother.

The Naperville Sun learned about Ms. Peterson’s actions because I told them. When Ms. Peterson’s letter came in, I was shocked and surprised. I was also finishing my next book in the Sunrise Series –Someday. It would’ve been easy for me to look the other way, to dismiss her along with the rare librarians who believe children should only read material that aligns with their personal political, social, and religious view points.

But I could not stand by without raising my voice. As Americans, we are entitled to our freedom of speech. It’s a right that drives our military sons and daughters, our husbands and neighbors to take a stand in defense of life here in the United States. If all school officials refused Christian literature, then our children would not be exposed to ideas other than those deemed politically correct, those sponsored by the government.

This cannot happen, friends. I realize that in rejecting my novel, Ms. Peterson is in the minority. In fact, yesterday I received a letter from the librarian at Naperville Public High School – North, across town – who told me she had received the donation of my books, and that she and her students were delighted.”

But if we allow people like Ms. Peterson to disregard Christian literature, if we sit back too busy or too willing to let someone else speak up . . . then we may lose the chance to speak at all. If Ms. Peterson’s seemingly blatant censorship is allowed to prevail, then our soldiers fight in vain. One day we won’t be talking about a library denying students the right to read books.

We’ll be talking about a government denying authors the chance to write them.

Please, let’s pray for Ms. Peterson and those like her, those who seem afraid of ideas that differ from their own. But let’s also fight for our right to free speech – today, while we still have the voice to do so.

Thank you for your outpouring of concern in this matter. I urge you to contact the Naperville Sun through the link on my website. You can also contact Naperville Central Principal Jim Caudill at 630-420-6420, or the Naperville Sun at 630-355-8010.

In His light and love,

Karen Kingsbury

September 24, 2007

Dear Friends,

As you know, I lost my dad this past week. We held a memorial service for him, where we were surrounded by precious friends, people who knew and loved my dad as a person who cared not only about life, but about the lives of everyone around him. Among the precious memories from that night was the arrival of our boys’ entire seventh-grade soccer team. They wore their uniforms and though they came with their parents, they sat together as a group. A final and fitting tribute for a man who never missed one of their games.
People stood and talked about the difference my dad had made in their lives. One of the soccer boys said he wished his grandpa could’ve been at his games, but at least he had Sean, Josh, and EJ’s grandpa. We wept and we laughed, and the next morning we somehow made it through his funeral. Again we were surrounded by loving friends who helped with a meal and filled our home and the church with beautiful flowers, the vibrant reds and oranges and violets a reminder of the fragrant memories we will always carry with us. My dad was a great man of faith, a family man, a man who taught me how to love. His legacy will live beyond my generation and that of our children.
At the funeral, my sisters and I shared a few thoughts about my dad. I thought I’d share mine with you. These were my words – spoken through tears – on Wednesday at the funeral.

My Dad was a believer of dreams, an encourager of the broken-hearted, a lover of wonder and magical moments and miracles. He never looked at a problem and said, “Why?” He pointed to the solution and said, “Why not?”
He prayed constantly, never turning in for the night without praying for everyone in his family, for everyone in his neighborhood, for every friend and acquaintance. For everyone he knew. Every day.
He loved the serenity prayer. “God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change; the courage to change the things I can; and the wisdom to know the difference.”
He was a father who would drive me to a high school football game – week after week – and take copious notes so that I – a novice sports writer – might succeed. When I wrote my first novel, I wrote it about him. Where Yesterday Lives is the story of a dad dying and the grieving family he left behind. About that novel, Dad used to grin and say, “Rumors of my demise are greatly exaggerated.” But in our quiet moments, he looked me deep in the eyes and said, “Honey, your book is wonderful. Someone will publish it and one day the whole world will know what an amazing writer you are.”
I will not let my dad go on this beautiful fall day.
I will carry him with me, allowing his memory to remind me of all he believed about friendship and family and faith. I will see him in the silhouette of majestic pines against a deep blue autumn sky, and hear him in the whisper of wind on a cool Christmas night. When the whistle blows at our boys’ soccer games or at a fourth-grade football contest, I will feel him beside me, his bellowing cheer of, “Go Blue!” and that smile . . . that smile always stretched across his face.
On opening night for our kids’ plays I will see him at the back, tears on his cheeks, beaming with pride. I will feel his hand in mine when I hold the hands of my children, and sense him with me when I sit for a quiet cup of tea early in the morning. I will see him in the depth of love and emotion in Kelsey’s eyes, and hear him in the passion of Tyler’s performance. I will remember him in Sean’s kindness and Josh’s fierce determination, in EJ’s sense of humor and Austin’s great concern for others.
When I die, I don’t want people to say, “She was an amazing writer.” I want them to say, “She was like her dad.”

August 18, 2007

Dear friends,

    My dad is holding on to today. I spent the last hour talking to him, sharing with him and telling him things that some people never get a chance to say.
    Today the doctors have told us they don't hold out much hope for my dad to recover. Because of that, I asked God for time to talk about the important issues. And God gave it to me.
      My dad's eyes were open and he was alert when I took up the place beside him this evening. I held his hand and said, 'Dad . . . if God calls you home before you get out of here, does that scare you?' His eyes grew soft and he looked at me deeply and shook his head. I told him not to worry about Mom, and that us girls would take care of her always.
      Again his look penetrated my heart and soul, and slowly . . . very slowly he brought my hand to his lips and kissed it. Then I told him that we weren't afraid for him, either. And again he looked at me for a long time. The corners of his mouth lifted and he kissed my hand again.
    We listened to his favorite hymns and precious songs that have meant something to him over the years. And I read Scripture out loud to him, and portions of Randy Alcorn's book about Heaven.
    'Thanks so much Dad for all the years you've given us, the amazing memories and summer vacations and caroling at Christmas time. Thanks for showing us about love and about Jesus and about faith everlasting.' I told him about the miracle story of his life, and he listened - gripped by every detail.   
    I told him he was here because Jesus wanted us to spread the truth of Christ to the people at the ICU department here. He smiled and nodded, a tear in his eye.
    So that's us, today. Just wanted you to have a picture of the precious moments we are having here in ICU. Thank you for your prayers, and please continue to lift us to our God and Savior.

More later . . . Love, Karen

June 14, 2007   

       I was anchored in the Little League bleachers the other day, keeping the official scorebook and watching our youngest son, Austin, play his last baseball game of the season when something caught my attention. The boy up to hit for the other team had a strange grip on the bat.
One of the dads on our team said, “Yeah, that’s Tommy. He was born that way, missing all the fingers on his right hand.”
The dad went on to say that Tommy was, indeed, right-handed. “But he’s played baseball without fingers since he was old enough to swing a bat.”
Deep inside of me I had a sudden surge of hope and joy and possibility. I wanted to give that little boy and his parents a standing ovation because of one simple reason. At a time when expectations for today’s kids can be at an all-time low, here was a family who had dared to raise the bar. No excuses, no choosing the easy path – not for Tommy.
       Okay, so Tommy was born without fingers on his batting hand? So what? His parents lovingly and persistently handed Tommy a bat and treated him like any other able-bodied child. In the process, they raised a boy who confidently approaches the plate, a boy who learned to swing a bat virtually one-handed.
       I think what I love most is that Tommy’s parents dared to think outside a societal trend that often hands our kids crutches instead of teaching them to walk. If I were to write a book on raising kids, if my husband were to write it with me, we’d call it, “Raise the Bar.”
       Let me be clear - by no means have we been perfectly successful in seeing our kids reach the high bars we set for them. But the bar is raised, the expectations high. Our kids know that each day they set out with a series of names that only they can shape and hold up.
       First on the list is the name of Christ. As Christians, all of us go about our days as walking advertisements for our Lord. What we do or don’t do, what we say or don’t say reflects directly on the God we claim to follow and serve. Knowing this truth gives all of us a reason to set the bar high, to reach for that godly standard every day.
       Second, we bear and must uphold our last name, our family name. When our kids face the morning, they understand that people will look at us as a group, and they will know us by our last name. When one child does well, it reflects on our entire family. When that same child makes a choice against God or their faith, that decision also reflects on our entire group. Therefore, bearing that last name comes with a responsibility – another reason to aim for the highest standards in all areas of life.
       Finally, we alone will shape the way our given name is viewed. Each of us is a very distinct and separate individual, born with certain strengths and weaknesses, and each of us has the choice to follow God’s plan for our lives or live a life directed by our own desires. If the bar is set high, then we will make a name for ourselves that brings glory to God. Otherwise we risk shaming our name, and all that He has created us for.
         In some ways, we’re all a little like Tommy – born with a weakness that threatens to keep us on the sidelines. Watching Tommy stand at the plate, watching him strike out twice before finally – in the last inning – connecting with the ball and sending it into centerfield, I was reminded once more to keep the bar high not only for my children, but for myself. God asks us to live in His strength, and to live a life of excellence, to keep swinging for the fences, even if we can barely grip the bat.
         Thank you, God . . . for using a gutsy little boy to remind me once more of your best for my life. Help me and Donald to keep the standards high for ourselves and our children, so that we might be a light for all who see us – defending most of all the name we call ourselves, the name that matters most.
         The name of Christian.

Dear Friends,

The other day my husband asked me to check into airfare for a few of our kids, so they could travel with him to Nevada for a visit with his aging grandma. I was on deadline finishing my latest Sunrise book, and the task completely slipped my mind. Not until the day before the trip – when it was too late – did he ask me again about the airfare.
“Are the boys going with me?” He smiled, trusting me.
I let out a gasp. Then I rattled off a string of excuses starting with I wasn’t sure which kids, or if he wanted them there the whole time. Or if kids could really spend time in the retirement center. I threw in that I was on deadline, and I had radio interviews each morning. Blah, blah, blah, blah.
He paused for a moment, then he smiled. “It’s okay. I guess maybe I just need some alone time with my grandma.” He hugged me. “You have a lot on your plate. Don’t worry about it.”
Only then did it hit me. He forgave me for something I didn’t admit. I should’ve said, “Honey, I’m so sorry. I completely forgot.”
This incident stayed with me, and God brought it up again the other day at church. The truth is, I love going to church. I mean, I really just love it. Always God brings about some reason why I’m supposed to be there – something I can work into my life or my work writing fiction. Lately, the sermon series at church has been on spiritual exercises. Our pastor has done a fantastic job talking about forgiveness, confession, belief, how to pray, and faith.
He continually likens spiritual exercise to physical exercise. If we don’t work out, we’ll be flabby and out of shape. That’s true for our bodies as much as it’s true for our souls. At first I thought this would be a great chance at having a refresher course on the obvious tenets of being a Christian. A brush-up on what matters most.
But God has shown me otherwise.
I desperately needed to hear this series – especially the part about forgiveness. Over the course of my life, I’ve had countless occasions where I needed to be forgiven . . . and countless occasions where I’ve needed to forgive.
Especially lately.
When someone apologizes for something they admit they’ve done, it’s fairly easy to forgive. I’m sure this might not be true if the offense was a deadly one against someone you love. When a drunk driver kills someone, that person’s family will struggle with forgiveness no matter how genuinely sorry the drunk driver is.
But what if the person who’s harmed you isn’t sorry? What if they won’t even admit the harm they’ve caused you, but rather act as if it never happened? In some cases, someone causes harm, and then lies to everyone they know – even their families – so that no one will find out what they’ve done.
How are we supposed to forgive someone in that situation?
Herein lies the exercise.
God asks us to do more than forgive our enemies. He asks us to love them. The key is to forgive and to love ahead of time – in anticipation of the moment when their hearts might be changed by God, when they might step forward, admit their wrong, and truly seek forgiveness.
If we learn to forgive and love first – without any sign of change on their part – then we’ll live in that perfect state of peace – God’s peace. And we’ll have no regrets. The question I’ve been dealing with is how, exactly, do we learn to forgive and love that way. Especially if we have to deal over and over again with the person who has harmed us.
The answer is something God is teaching me.
The people who are most difficult to forgive, present us with the greatest opportunity to grow in our faith. We cannot gain physical strength without doing exercises that push us past what is comfortable, past what we are already able to do. The same is true for spiritual growth.
And so, I pray that God is patient with me while I learn this lesson, while I deal with the tears and frustration and awkward feelings associated with learning this type of forgiveness and love. I’m not very good at it, and God knows I have a long way to go. But I thank Him for placing me in a church that is helping me draw closer to His truth, His ways.
Also, practicing forgiveness and love will help me understand better what someone else has to go through when I’ve wronged them, and they forgive and love me. After our latest church service on forgiveness, I pulled my husband aside.
“About that trip to see your grandma . . .”
He looked confused. “I told you, honey, no big deal.”
“Wait.” I put my hands on his shoulders. “You need to know something.” I looked straight in his eyes. “I have no excuses whatsoever. I completely forgot to book airfare for the kids.” I felt the sorrow to the depths of my heart. “I’m so sorry. Will you forgive me?”
He wrapped his arms around me and loved me – the way he had from the beginning. Ahead of time. Before I asked for his forgiveness. And somewhere in the shadowy back alleys of my soul I felt a ray of sunlight.
Thank you, God . . . thank you for never giving up on me. Thank you for showing me that the forgiveness you want from me, is only the same forgiveness others have already extended toward me.
If you haven’t been to church in a while, maybe it’s time to go. You never know what you’ll learn.

February 6, 2007

Dear friends,

It’s been awhile since I’ve written a journal entry. But lots has been going on here at the home front. Donald is coaching his 17th season of basketball and the kids are involved in another musical. Sean, Josh, and EJ are at the beginning soccer playoffs and Austin is the high scorer most Friday nights at his basketball games. But amidst the fun and involvement, we took time for a family movie the other night. We invited a bunch of friends over and together we watched Facing the Giants.
I went into this movie knowing that it was made on an extremely limited budget – something that was evident from the opening scene. Clearly the editing, acting, cinematography, and directing were not at the standard usually seen at the movie theater. But within minutes our entire room was mesmerized by the storyline.
Facing the Giants is the story of a downtrodden football coach at a mediocre Christian high school. Apathy and injuries and inconsistency plague the team as it sets out for what seems like another losing season. In addition, the coach and his wife can’t have children. On a day when the coach finds out that he’s the reason for the infertility issues, he also overhears an impromptu parent meeting where the dads of his key football players are calling for a change in leadership. Also at the meeting – his assistant coach.
“You could do a better job,” one of the fathers tells the assistant. “We’re a weak football program because we’ve got a weak coach.”
Tears were already in my eyes and spilling onto my cheeks. Any woman who has ever been the wife of a coach knows this feeling – the deep betrayal that comes when players and their parents turn against the coach because of a loss or a starting lineup they don’t agree with.
This is where the movie gets good.
The coach – at his lowest possible point – goes home and tells his wife he can’t give her the children she wants, and what’s more, the parents have all turned against him. In a moment of heartbreak, both of them bow their heads and weep. The next morning, though, the coach takes his Bible and meets the Lord in a field behind his house. He breaks down before God and lays his life and career and dreams of being a father in the hands of his Creator.
From this point on, the movie plays out like a sermon, a parable of the story of David and Goliath. We sat around our family room in awe, amazed at the truth being portrayed in film, and the Scripture being used to back it. Tears came often, and the sense of victory built in our hearts with every few minutes. A victory that had nothing to do with football games and field goals. A victory that came with knowing that we’re on God’s team – on the side where nothing is impossible because of our Lord and Savior.
Watching Facing the Giants was an experience we’ll never forget. Any mediocrity caused by its budget was quickly swallowed by the bigness of the message, the deep abiding truth of it. Watch this film! Buy it and share it with your family and friends. Because we all need to be reminded that in the end life isn’t about winning or losing or getting the promotion. It isn’t about being debt-free or getting that college scholarship. The laundry and carpools and soccer games don’t make up the quality of life.
Rather meaning in our existence is found always and only in living for Christ. I can only pray that the movies being made on my books – Gideon’s Gift, Like Dandelion Dust, A Thousand Tomorrows, and Even Now/Ever After – will glorify God the way that Facing the Giants glorified Him. And we can all thank the Lord that movies are being made with a message of truth!
Have a great week! I’m finishing Summer tomorrow, and starting right in on Someday. This Sunrise Series will give you the final chapters with the Baxters, Dayne, Katy, the Flanigans and other characters you and I have come to love. But you never know! Somewhere down the road I might have the chance to bring these characters to life again so that I can share with you the next season in their lives.
I continue to pray for you . . . that you’ll feel God’s compassionate arms around you and that you’ll live and walk in truth. In His light and love,

Karen

Hi friends,

We had the chance to see The Nativity last night and here’s my recommendation for everyone thinking about seeing this movie – Go! The production of The Nativity is very well done, and literally places you in Jerusalem and Bethlehem back in the days of Christ’s birth.

The movie gives you a chilling look at King Herod’s madness and evil reign – and how threatened he was by the notion of a coming Messiah. It also shows you how special the relationship between Mary and Joseph must’ve been. Like most marriages of the day, this one was most likely arranged, allowing little room for starry-eyed romance. But when Mary showed up pregnant, the reality is that Joseph had the power to have her stoned. Instead he had the faith to believe God, and in doing so he became one of the only people who believed Mary’s story about the angel. His friendship and support would’ve meant the world to a young girl like Mary, pregnant in a society where shame over such a thing would’ve been thicker than the temple walls.

But maybe what touched me most was the determination of the wise men to seek the coming King. These were learned men, comfortable and revered in their surroundings. But they packed up and set out by camel in search of the baby Messiah. Three things stuck out about the wise men in The Nativity movie. First, they sought the Scriptures diligently, and in doing so, they knew how when to look for Jesus. Second, they were willing to sacrifice for the search. They gave up a comfortable life to travel by dusty desert pathways in search of the new King. And third, they never gave up. They sought the Messiah until they found Him.

With tears streaming down my face I watched the dramatic scene when the wise men finally find the newborn baby Jesus. As the camels bowed low, and the kings fell to their knees it hit me that all of us are to seek our Lord that same way.
My dad’s been sick lately, struggling with kidney dialysis. Pray for him, and for us as he goes through this difficult time. But one beautiful memory God gave me last night was the sight of him and our entire extended family filling up a section of our local theater – my parents’ gift to us – so that we could all see The Nativity together.

In your busyness of this Christmas season, take the people you love to see this movie. It’ll put everything else about Christmas into perspective, and give you the chance to celebrate the very real meaning of December 25th. Matthew 6:33 says to seek first His kingdom and His righteousness and all these things will be added to you. Whatever issues you’re facing this Christmas, let’s take a lesson from the wise men. I think God wanted it that way, that the picture of the three wise kings would help us know exactly how to seek the King of Kings.

More soon, friends! Check out my new web pages – for military heroes. And look for my newsletter coming out this week! It’ll tell you about my new book, Ever After, and all the places where I’ll be speaking in the coming few months.
Keep your eyes on the star!

In His light and love,

Karen Kingsbury

I promised I’d tell you why I fell in love with Don all over again during my trip to California. The first two days were wonderful and productive, a time to catch up with old friends and new readers! Though I struggle with any time away from home, God met me at every turn in these two days of events.

Then . . . after the work was done . . . I moved to a hotel on the beach and on Sunday afternoon Don met me there. It felt like a clandestine rendezvous, something that Landon and Ashley might do in one of my Firstborn series books. Stealing a few days from the kids and the chaos to remember why we ever fell in love in the first place.

That first night, we shared dinner at a small table near an enormous window overlooking the Pacific Ocean where the suns slowly melted into the sea. We went outside after dinner and breathed the cool, damp air, watching the lights and looking as far out to the dusky horizon as possible.

Our hearts seemed to beat in unison to the rhythm of the crashing waves.

“I’m so glad I married you,” he whispered to me.

I pressed my head against his warm chest. “I can’t believe you’re here.”

While we slept that night, we left the door of our room open to the ocean below. It felt like we’d fallen into a dream world. The next day we woke early and took a two-mile walk along the beach. We talked about the kids and how we can be better parents, more consistent, more loving. We talked about raising the bar and providing them with challenges that will help them become the responsible young people God wants them to be. We sang praise songs to our God who has – for now – blessed us with them. And we stopped in ankle-deep surf and prayed.

During the day we talked about our lives and how quickly the past twenty years have flown by.

“Why did you marry me?” he asked me over breakfast one morning. “I mean, okay, I know you loved me. But why? And what made you think I’d be the one for you, the one to last a lifetime with?”

It wasn’t a question he’d ever asked before, but I had an answer. “Three reasons,” I told him. The soft crash of waves sounded below and a pair of seagulls flew by our open door. “First, you loved God more than life.”

I told him how that love for God challenged me and made me question my own stagnant beliefs. “I figured if you loved God that much,” I smiled, “then you would always love me.”

He reached across the table and took my fingers in his. “What else?”

“You’re gift in working with children.” It’s always been true. When I met Don he was a PE teacher at a private school, working his way through college enroute to his bachelor’s degree in education and his teaching credential. His patience and humor and innate ability to teach were striking. Sometimes now I watch him with our six kids and I’m amazed. That same ability is why our family is what it is today. God has given him a gift and it continues to play out.

He dismissed the compliment. “Anyone’s good with kids.”

“Not like you.”

“All right, so what else?”

The last one was easy. His view on divorce was perfectly in line with mine. “People don’t just fall out of love,” he would tell me back then. “You have to work on marriage, nurture it, breathe new life into it. Every day, every season, every year you have together.”

Indeed.

I thank God for a time of holding hands and watching sunsets, of quiet conversation to the backdrop of everything belonging to God alone. I thank Him for giving us time to remember why and when and where. And maybe most importantly how. Because in the end, and now that we’re back in our routine, Donald was right about what he said.

You have to work on marriage. Nurture it, breathe new life into it. Every day, every season, every year you have together.

Thank You, God, for my Prince Charming.

Dear Friends,

Last week I remembered all over again why I fell in love with my husband. I’ll get to that, but first I had two days full of wonderful events in Southern California. I met Lighthouse Bookstore owners Mark and Ruth Bingle and their daughter, Rachel, and came away from our time together feeling like old friends. Ruth held a fancy tea at her house on Friday afternoon and raised a significant amount of money for Bethany Christian Services Adoption Agency.

During that time we sipped tea and dabbled in Ruth’s hospitality and creativity. She and a team of her friends worked to make it an afternoon we’ll never forget. A plus? After two hours, I walked away with ten friends I didn’t have before, including one woman who over the years has been the foster mom for 72 babies! Seventy-Two!!!!

I think I felt a character forming in my heart.

That night I spoke at a local church, and met hundreds of wonderful people. Some of the kids who’ve been part of our family over the years, kids my husband taught at our local high school, have moved on to the Orange County area. They all came to the event, and one of them took pictures for me for nearly three hours while I met with my new friends! I met a very special new friend that night – one whose youngest son shares much in common with my kids. Truly, I felt like it was more of a reunion than a first-time meeting in so many ways.

I also connected with Tami and Kermit Alexander. Kermit played football for the San Francisco 49ers and was a Pro Bowler NFL defensive back in the late 1960s. He and his wife share my books, and they share something else – a passion for the children of Haiti. They are in the process of adopting, and brought me a football signed by Kermit to all our boys. What a treasured time!

The next day was the big signing at the Long Beach Lighthouse Bookstore. This store is celebrating sixty years in business. That’s a long time, especially in today’s market where Christian bookstores struggle just to stay open. I was impressed with the history and heritage of the Lighthouse stores – four in all – because they were started by a couple without two dimes to scratch together. Now – with those two long gone – their daughter and her family carry on the tradition: Bringing the good news of Jesus to the people in their area through products of every kind – even Life-Changing Fiction ™.

At the signing I met two very special new friends who actually boarded an airplane in the Bay Area and flew down to Orange County just for the event. I remain honored and touched and convinced beyond words that all credit for the power of this fiction goes to God Almighty. I had the chance to pray with one of these women, and I believe she left feeling closer to God – which is all that matters, anyway.

On Saturday night I met up with my two of my moms sisters, my aunt Peggy and Uncle Ed, and my Aunt Sue and Uncle Tom. They talked about their recent trip to Italy and France – and even provided comical accents and Italian phrases so I’d get the full flavor of the trip. Also my cousin Pattie joined us with her husband Ben, and their three amazing little children – Alex, 8; Kiersten, 5; and Ryan, 3. We had a blast together, and my conversation with Alex on the ride home from the booksigning is one that will most certainly appear in a book somewhere.

Check in with my next journal entry to see why this trip – more than anything in a long time – made me fall in love with my husband all over again!

In His Light and Love,

Karen

October 11, 2006
Alex Smith Photos
Hi friends!

    Just wanted to update you on a little whirlwind trip my family took this past weekend, and the powerful illustrations it produced. Through a series of common friends, our family was invited to be the guest of Alex Smith at last Sunday’s San Francisco 49ers game against the Raiders. Alex Smith is the team’s quarterback, the first-round pick in the NFL draft last year. If you don’t follow football, that means Alex is a very, very talented player. The 49ers are banking the farm that this young man will return them to the glory years of old.

    Don and I took our oldest and our youngest kids along. Kelsey – who is doing a marketing internship for me – and Austin, who is playing his first season of football.

    I was fascinated about the opportunity on a number of levels. First, I’m in the planning stages for my novel, Between Sundays, which will release in November, 07. It’s the story of two professional football players, a lonely foster child, and one amazing season where they learn that real victories happen between Sundays.

    So, we flew into the Bay Area early Sunday morning and met up with Alex’s family for a tailgating party in the stadium parking lot. It was like spending time with old friends, people so much like us and even like my characters, that we felt comfortable from the beginning. Alex’s family is very special. He is one of four kids, all of whom have played sports and learned life lessons in the process. Maybe the best and biggest lesson is that family is the greatest team of all. Alex’s parents – Pam and Doug – have instilled in their kids love and respect and dedication. But above all, they understand the sense of protection and belonging that family brings.

    Alex is the kind of star football player who is driven to give back to his community. One way he’s doing that is with his newly formed Alex Smith Foundation, which helps foster kids transition into adulthood. My novel Between Sundays shines a flashlight not only on the life of a pro football player, but also on kids trapped in the foster care system.
So, that meant I had a lot of questions for Alex and his family.

    The Smiths invited us back to their house after the game, where we ate quesadillas and tri-tip cooked by various uncles and aunts. While we ate, we talked about Alex’s foundation. His sister, Abbey, works on marketing for the foundation, and his parents spend countless hours every week creating awareness, and finding avenues of advocacy for foster children.
Alex is a kind, easygoing sort of guy, who reminded me of one of my husband’s former players. He’s just 22 years old, but he’s handling the pressure of playing in the NFL because of the support he receives from the people who matter most – his family. It made me think of my character Dayne Matthews, and how differently the early years of his career would’ve been if he’d had the support of the Baxter Family.

    One of my favorite moments Sunday evening was when we were sitting on Alex’s couch talking, and Austin plopped down between Alex and me. He had brought his favorite football, the one he sleeps with. “How do you hold the laces when you throw?” he asked Alex. And for the next ten minutes, Alex gave Austin a clinic on just exactly how he holds the laces, and how other quarterbacks hold them. Alex signed his football and they talked about Austin’s season. A couple of kids – one big, one small – talking about the love of the game.

    I’m hoping Alex will write a forward for Between Sundays, and tell the world a little bit about his foundation. Currently, more than a third of all foster kids wind up homeless. Another large percentage end up in prison. These kids need our help. Alex Smith understands that being in the limelight isn’t all about the applause and fame. It’s about finding love and safety in the surroundings of family, and helping someone else with all you’ve been blessed with. We’re hoping to meet with the Smiths again in the off-season.

    Check out pictures of our San Francisco trip and Alex Smith by Clicking Here. Oh, by the way, Alex isn’t only a winner off the field. His three touchdown passes led the 49ers in a 34-20 win over the Raiders.

    Join me in praying that Alex and his foundation will be mightily successful in touching hearts and changing the lives of foster kids.

    In the meantime, Go 49ers!

    In His Light and Love,

    Karen

I Grieve with You . . .

To my Amish reader friends, and all my reader friends in Lancaster County, PA -

Last April, the kind people at Hackman’s Bookstore brought me to Pennyslvania’s Amish Country for several booksignings and speaking events. More than five hundred people turned out at a booksigning at Provident Bookstore just a few miles from the West Nickel Mines Amish School. At that signing, I met many of my kind
and gentle Amish readers, and I cherished my time with you.

This week’s devastating deadly shooting at your school has left me heartsick, barely able to write without imagining the grief in your community. Please know that my prayers are with you, daily . . . hourly. My arms ache for the empty arms among you. Today I held my little ones tighter, longer. At a time like this we most
desperately need and must cling to our hope in Jesus Christ.

May the world see your response and your unearthly forgiveness, and may they turn to Jesus Christ.

Brothers, we do not want you to be ignorant about those who fall asleep, or to grieve like the rest of men, who have no hope. We believe that Jesus died and rose again and so we believe that God will bring with Jesus those who have fallen asleep in him. . . . And so we will be with the Lord forever. Therefore encourage each other with
these words.   (1 Thes. 4: 13-18 - NIV)

Hi Friends,

Well, we had another birthday this past weekend. Austin turned 9. Always, every year as the kids have a birthday, I take about a week to really hold tight to the year they’re leaving behind. For Austin, eight was a great year. He became an excellent reader, and he showed great desire at the sort of student he wants to be. In many ways, he left behind some of the little boy habits that had marked him as a seven-year-old.

At the same time, he was Christopher Robin, too. He spent probably half his hours out back looking for tadpoles and catching snakes and frogs. He picked wild blackberries with his brothers until he was purple from his fingertips to his elbows, until we had seven oversized overflowing bowls of berries covering the kitchen counters. We also learned that he was part fish. He spent that much time in the water. His hair got so white over the summer he sometimes looked like a short version of a little-old-man. At least until he let out one of his full-bodied giggles.

Anyway, you all know what I mean. If you’ve been a kid or you have ever been blessed with children in your life, you know what I’m talking about. The years march subtly by, as if we might not notice. And sometimes we don’t. We get excited about nine, and we forget about saying goodbye to eight. So this year, like many others, the day before Austin’s birthday I worked my way up to his room after he was asleep. I sat on the edge of his bed and patted his back and I looked at the clock – wishing it would stop moving forward. Even for an hour. It was my way of saying goodbye to eight.

The next morning, bright and early – as I always do at the start of any birthday – I woke Austin up with the video camera and sang him Happy Birthday! We celebrated and welcomed in Nine with all the proper balloons and cake and streamers and friends. But still . . . he’ll never be eight again. And that’s the part that stays with me this week. I hope this finds you enjoying your Monday.

In His light and love,

Karen

Hi friends,

    Well, summer has reached its peak and we’re heading fast for fall. At least it feels that way around here. We had a great time with some special friends this summer, and our goodbyes were said through tears and laughter.

    But now the friends are gone home, the trips to see Grandma and Grandpa are over and I’m well into writing the last book in the Firstborn Series. Forever will definitely give you the next piece of the Baxters’ story, the next segment of life between Katy and Dayne. But it won’t be the end. That’s the only reason I’m enjoying writing it so much, because this series will springboard into the Sunrise Series. When that ends, well ... I’m not sure what I’ll do. I just can’t picture it ending.

    I’m not sure how it is where you live, but around here the kids’ sports have kicked – literally – into full swing. Sean, Josh, and EJ are playing soccer and loving it; and this year Austin, 8, is playing football.

    If you’re cringing, so am I. Eight? Football? I know, I know, it’s a struggle for us, but it’s also the way of life for kids today. Austin has wanted to play football since the word came out of his mouth when he was a year old. For weeks on end it’s been the same thing, a blonde little boy hanging from my right elbow performing a constant begging act.

    “Please, Mommy . . . please can I play football.”

    “You’re too young, honey,” I tell him.

    “I’m in 3rd grade, and my division is 2nd and 3rd, so that means I already sat out a season. And I like football more than all the other kids, so please, Mommy.”

    “Maybe next year. It’s probably too late to sign up.”

    “It isn’t.”

    “It isn’t?” I reach for my iced tea with Austin hanging from my arm.

    “No, it isn’t. You can sign me up online, that’s what Carter told me. And Skyler. And Ben. And they’re all in the neighborhood, so that’s where my friends will be.”

    I’m wary. I look at him, my little boy who had heart surgery as an infant, my miracle child. “But I’m not sure you know how to tackle without getting hurt.”

    “I do, Mommy. Watch.”

    “Yrggle,” I say as he clamps his arms around me, head high, in a perfect dad’s-a-coach-technique. He works his feet, pushing me backwards until I fall against the kitchen counter.

    “See, Mommy? I can even tackle you and I can do it safe cause Dad taught me.”

    I find my balance and fix my hair. “I see.”

    “So please, Mommy. Daddy says it’s up to you. He says it’s okay. It’s safer than soccer cause in soccer everyone’s crashing into each other and using their heads to hit the ball and there’s not even a helmet or pads for the players.”

    I picture Austin’s three soccer-playing brothers on the field the weekend before. I wince. “True,” I say.

    “So, can I play. Please Mommy.” He pulls on my elbow and leads me toward the computer. “You can sign me up online.”

    Well.

    Needless to say, Austin had his first football practice Wednesday night. Skyler’s mom assured me that it really is safer than soccer and that since Austin’s a foot taller than all the other boys and one of the oldest kids in the division, there’s really nothing to worry about.

    “I can’t believe you even considered not letting him play,” she smiles at me. “Austin’s loved this game for years. He’s more exited than any kid I know.”

    I nod slowly and watch him jog out to join the other boys, mouth guard in place where it’s been since we bought it three hours earlier. She’s right. He’s taller and bigger than the other kids, an athlete through and through.

    But all I can see is that little baby in the hospital crib at Children’s Hospital after the surgery, tubes weaving in and out of him, breathing slowly, recovering from a heart defect that could’ve killed him. The scene switches and I can hear the doctor’s voice from a few months ago telling me, “Yes, he can play sports. I’ve never seen such a healthy heart patient. He’s absolutely fine.”

    “Even football?” I ask, since Austin will if I don’t.

    “Yes,” the doctor says. “Even football.”

    The memories lift. I narrow my eyes and look up at the sky, far above the football field where my little boy is celebrating a first he’s waited forever for. And I hold my breath. God . . . put your angels around him. He’s only eight.

    I exhale and look back at the field and Austin is standing next to the coach, facing the other guys. “All right, boys, listen up,” the coach says. “This player understands high knees better than everyone. Watch him.”

    Austin smiles and does the drill my husband taught him when he was two.

    “See,” Skyler’s mom pats me on the back. “Everything’s going to be okay. This is where he’s supposed to be.”

    A slow sigh escapes. “I know.”

    And like that another journey has begun, another bridge crossed. I’ll keep you updated about the season, but I have my priorities in place. My husband agrees. If a conflict comes up – a day at the lake verses football practice – we’ll still pick the day at the lake. Every time. He is, after all, just eight. But he’s a football player. No mistake about that.

    Me? I’ll be the mom praying on the sidelines every Saturday – football or soccer. I bet there are lots of you out there who can relate, and that’s okay. I’ll be praying for you and yours, too. For now, back to my writing.

    Enjoy your August. I’ll be in touch again next week.

In His light and love,

Karen

Hi friends!

It’s been far too long since I’ve posted here, but I’ve been on the road. A lot! We took a trip to NYC with a bunch of theater kids – kids who are like family to me. Actually it was a research trip, since I’ll be having a big NY trip in one of my Sunrise books coming up in the next year or so. Believe me, much of what you’ll read will be from firsthand experience!

         One of my favorite moments was when the kids decided – after a pillow fight – to go dancing in Times Square at 3 a.m. Swing dancing, to be precise. We were just steps outside our hotel door, so it didn’t feel too scary. Anyway, so there we were – 12 kids with more spirit and enthusiasm than the rest of Times Square combined – and here comes a scary-looking street guy. He stops, narrows his eyes and watches our group for a minute. Then he shakes his head and says. “Whatever drug you people are on, I want some.” Later on the kids said, “You don’t need a drug to have this much fun. You need Jesus.”

And that’s the truth!

With Jesus as the tour guide, we then traveled as a family to Missouri and Oklahoma, where I had the privilege of meeting with hundreds of reader friends in both places. My mother-in-law, Phyllis, helped pull together the event in Bartlesville, and many of you drove as far as 6 hours to attend. One sad note – the pastor of the church in Bartlesville died suddenly four days before the event, and his funeral service was immediately after my Saturday talk. It was a reminder of the very thing I speak about – the importance of getting as much as you can out of every day, every moment God has given you with your family and loved ones. We never know when the people we love might be called home.

On the writing front, I finished Ever After – the sequel to Even Now. I wept through the whole thing, prompting my kids to really think I’m off my rocker. At one point Kelsey walked into my writing room and asked if I wanted Iced Tea, or anything else. I turned and looked at her and she nearly jumped back. I had tears streaming down my face, a tissue in my hand, and swollen eyes. “Hi,” I muttered.

“Uh, are you okay?” She seriously looked concerned for me.

“Yes.” I sniffed. I looked at my keyboard and computer screen. “I’m fine.”

“Okay, then . . . can I get you anything.”

“Yes,” I looked at her again. “Counseling.”

She laughed and so did I, but the truth is I was very, very drawn in by the story of Ever After. It is the story of a soldier’s sacrifice. I learned again that there is no sacrifice without love, and no love without sacrifice. That story wrote itself in just five days. I felt so close to God, that writing felt like breathing. I would finish for the day, dry my eyes and tell my husband, Donald, “I love writing! I love it so much. This book made me remember how passionate I am about writing for the Lord.”

One more thing – my daughter, Kelsey, is on the cover of Ever After. I’ll attach it here so you can see it. We’re so excited about how it turned out. I’d love to you’re your feedback.

So…that’s coming. Also, Found will be out in just a few weeks. The third book in the Firstborn Series is one of my favorites. I can’t wait to hear what you think.

         I hope this finds you enjoying summer. I’ll be updating this much more frequently after today. Keep checking back.

Love in His light,

Karen

Okay, I’m back.

Sorry about the long break! I traveled and toured much of the last part of April, and just last night I finished writing Family – the fourth book in the Firstborn Series. But the whole time I was anxious to get back to my journal, anxious to share some of the things I saw on the road.

Maybe one of the most special moments I’ve ever had at a booksigning happened in late March while I was at a Blessings store in Windsor, Ontario. I meant to tell you about this earlier, but it’s been on my heart and I think there’s a good lesson in it. So here goes.

There were several hundred people at the booksigning that evening, and about two-and-a-half hours into it, a woman stepped up and introduced herself as Sue. Clearly she’d been crying.

“Hi,” she managed to say.

“Hi.” My heart went out to her. She was small and shy-looking, but something in her eyes told me her tears weren’t merely sad tears. I hugged her. “Are you okay?”

Sue held up her hand and nodded. Struggling to find the words, she said, “I love your books, you’re my favorite author.” She wiped at her tears. “But I wasn’t going to come today.”
I wasn’t sure where she was going with her story. I nodded. “Okay.”

“I wasn’t going to come because . . .” Sue’s voice cracked. “I didn’t have a friend to bring with me.”

She went on to explain that she’d been ill for the past few years, and during that time her friends had fallen away, one at a time. Now that she was well enough to spend an evening out at a book event, she had not one friend she could call, no one who would she felt would be interested in an evening with her.
“Anyway,” her eyes danced a little. “I came anyway.” She shrugged. “My husband told me I should. And you won’t believe what happened!”

She went on to tell me that she was at the back of the line, when she saw my mom and cousin talking with people ahead of her. My mother is from Windsor, so she connected with several family members and friends during our short visit. Anyway, my mom and cousin were talking with people in line, trying to make the wait seem a little shorter.

Finally they moved far enough back that they began talking with the most fun-loving, raucous book club I’ve ever seen in one of my book lines. There were a dozen or more of these women – who call themselves the Yada-Yada Reader Club.
Sue happened to be right behind them.

At some point during the conversation between my mom and my cousin and this gregarious group, my cousin spoke to Sue and said, “So . . . you’re a part of this group, too?”

Sue shook her head, and tears began to fall from her eyes. That’s when the story came out – about her illness and how she’d lost all her friends and didn’t have a single one left. Not one friend she could call.

Well.

This wonderful group of reader friends embraced Sue and got to know her. By the time Sue reached the front of the line, her tears were no longer out of sadness and self-doubt. Rather they were because she had found people who cared. These women exchanged names and phone numbers with Sue, and made plans to get together.

Sue came for a book event, and went home with a dozen new friends. How’s that for God at work? It gets better. I held a drawing at that event. I picked three names from a bowl, three people who could bring a friend and join me for breakfast in the morning.

The first name I picked was Sue’s.

The third was Heather, one of the most outgoing and warm people in the Yada Yada Reader Club. Naturally, Sue picked a friend from among her new dozen, and Heather also chose from her group. The next morning we all met for breakfast, and those four sat at their own table.

Sue looked like a different person. Her eyes sparkled and she was dressed like someone who believed in herself. She smiled and gave me another hug. “Can you believe how good the Lord is?”

I couldn’t stop smiling. “Only because I’ve seen Him work so many times before,” I told her.

I’ll bring you more later – but I had to tell you about Sue and her dozen new friends. Because my guess is God’s working just as powerfully in your life and mine even this very day!

Dear friends,

Back from Arizona, and I had a wonderful time. My booksigning at the Jesus Chapel was amazing, the people at the store as warm and welcoming as old friends. All of us were there, and even my shy kids stood with me during the Q&A time. The weather wasn't all it could be, but that's okay. I've never needed sunshine to feel the brilliant rays of God at work on a given day.

Okay, let's talk about the wedding.

We went to Arizona for a couple reasons. Research, first and foremost. There will be weddings and travel for my future characters and storylines, so its always crucial to take a trip with my family. I watch and listen and discuss and learn and come away with material that will certainly make my books richer. But in this case, the wedding was a highlight, for sure.

Our dear Cottonwood, AZ., friends were marrying off their oldest daughter, a precious girl we had known and loved since she was nine years old. Now, at 22, she'd been dating the same guy for six years. Together they are the sort of couple that would make excellent characters for one of my novels. Brittney was a cheerleader and homecoming queen; David, the quarterback of the football team, and homecoming king. The local newspaper ran the photo of them riding in the back of a convertible, matching crowns and eyes aglow.

Seriously, they are just too cute.

Anyway, our friends are strong Christians. They've raised their kids with high morals and amazing standards. In many ways, we've always looked up to them and appreciated them, even these past eight years since we moved away from Cottonwood. Still, when a couple is 22 years old, and when they've been dating exclusively for six years, it's possible that the dream of purity might've been compromised. It wasn't something I was going to ask about.

That's why it was my favorite moment was late Saturday night. The reception was nearing an end, and there was discussion about Brittney and David getting into their car and heading off for their hotel in Phoenix. One night there, and they'd fly out in the morning for their honeymoon.

I was talking to Brittney's mother when Brittney walked up. She looked absolutely stunning, but in that brief moment her eyes shone with a sort of sweet nervousness. "Mom," she met her mother's eyes. "I'm so nervous about tonight."

Not thinking, I popped in with, "Phoenix, you mean? Is something wrong with the hotel reservation?"

Both mother and daughter gave me a knowing look. "No,"? my friend told me. "She's nervous about . . . tonight."

In a rush of understanding I held out my arms and hugged that precious Brittney. "Oh, Brit, I'm so glad . . . I'm so glad you're nervous about tonight." My heart soared with joy for this girl who had done what she set out to do, a girl who had done what so many girls feel is impossible. She had remained pure until her wedding day.

"God gave us the strength," she smiled at me. "You can use me as an example to other girls. It's definitely possible to stay pure, to stay far away from anything that might've put me at risk."

It reminded me of a story.

There once was a princess, the fairest one in all the land. Every eligible young knight was interested in marrying the princess, and finally the King agreed to stage a competition. Various tests and challenges were given, and the list of potential husbands for the princess was narrowed down to three.

One sunny afternoon, with all the townspeople watching, the King ordered the three knights to line up on their stallions, a hundred yards from a cliff.

"Okay,"? he said. "This last competition is for horsemanship. You will pretend that the princess is riding horseback with you."? He pointed to the cliff. "You will race your horse as fast and hard as you can, straight for the drop off, so that I can see which of you would take the princess closest to the cliff without going over the edge."

The men straightened in their saddles. The first gave a nod to the king. "I could get the princess within a foot of the edge of that cliff."

"Very well,"? the king raised his hand. "Begin!"

With the wind in his face, the knight tore across the field and sure enough, he stopped his horse exactly a foot from the edge of the cliff. The townspeople marveled at the feat, and clapped for the knight. "Surely," one of them said, "this will be the man awarded the hand of the princess!"

But then the second knight pointed at the drop-off. "I can do better!" He stared at the king, confidence written in his eyes. "I can take the princess six inches from the cliff without going over."

A hush fell over the crowd. "Very well," the king gave the command. "Away you go!"

The stallion pounded out a furious rhythm across the field, the knight pushing him faster, faster, until suddenly the horse and rider came to a grinding halt. "Six inches!" The knight shouted. Measurements were taken, and indeed, the knight had brought his steed to within six inches of the cliff.

This time the crowd roared for the knight. No one could possibly do better. There was no doubt in anyone's mind that this was the winner of the contest, the man who would marry the princess.

As the townspeople settled down, the king turned to the third knight. "The first competitor brought his horse a foot from the cliff," the king's voice boomed across the field. "The second brought his six inches from the edge. So tell me, young knight . . . exactly how close to the cliff can you bring the princess?"

"Your majesty,"? the knight lowered his reigns. "I love the princess. She is more precious to me than anything in the kingdom."? He shook his head. "I wouldn't take her anywhere near that cliff."

"That," the king smiled, "is the right answer. And you, the third knight, shall have the hand of my daughter."

Tell your daughters that story, okay? And tell them about Brittney, a beautiful bride who picked a prince that would understand the importance of keeping her away from the edge of the cliff.

All right . . . enough fairy tales.

Oh, one more thing. I saw the first copy of Divine at my booksigning in Scottsdale. I get chills when I think of that story, and how God's going to use it to bring hearts around for Him. It's a love story about the sort of love this world knows very little about. A truly divine love. It should be in your stores by now, too. I'd love to hear your thoughts on it.

Okay, it's back to writing Family. It's so exciting at this point, I can't get enough of it, I hope you love reading it as much as I'm loving writing it.

Keep your eyes on the cross!

In His light and love,

Karen

Hi friends . . .

Glorious day here in the Northwest! I finished writing Found late last night, tears streaming down my face. I absolutely loved writing Found, loved spending time with these people - because that's how they feel to me. Like real people.

For a long while, I've been aching to get back to my friends in Bloomington. I could hardly believe I'd left Dayne with a Bible and a hundred questions about God, or John Baxter with the phone number of a PI, and little else in the quest to find his son.

I feel much better now.

Isn't there something wonderful about the word found? It implies that something was lost, something or someone. But now, everything's okay. That's the beauty of being found. While I took Dayne down the journey of finding Christ, of allowing God to find him, I thought about my own life, the lives of the people I love. What would my life be like if someone hadn't prayed for me, if my husband hadn't taken the time to show me God's word? I might be writing books, I might even be selling a lot of copies. But I would be completely and utterly lost without Jesus.

We are all lost until we meet Christ, aren't we?

In a discussion with our kids the other day, one of them said something sort of blunt. "All roads lead to hell except Jesus."? The sound of that sentence set us back for a minute. It had a harsh sound to it. The room fell silent as we all pondered that thought. But just as quickly we came to realize the truth in it.

There are many, many good people in this world. Many roads that seem fruitful and successful. People on those roads may have found their motivation in great works or charity, in helping people or succeeding at something wonderful. There are athletes and lawyers and businessmen and mothers, artists and singers and teachers and students, all out there going about their business in a way that seems pleasant enough.

It's not often that we take another look and realize that for every one of them, for every one of us, the life that has us getting up each morning, smiling and succeeding and making it back to our beds at night, is a road that leads nowhere without Jesus.

That was something Dayne had to figure out.

He thought maybe his emptiness came from his loneliness, from wild relationships and the loss of his first child. He wondered if maybe Katy Hart or the Baxters would somehow make him feel whole. And while those were wonderful possibilities, the truth for Dayne is the same truth for us. Wholeness, completeness, is always and only found in finding that relationship with Jesus.

I guess the thing that stayed with me as I wrote Found was this, we need to pray for the people in our lives who haven't yet found their hope in Christ. Dayne had people praying for him. There is power in prayer, power enough to move mountains.

So be encouraged. If you or someone you love hasn't found the one Person who will make life whole and complete, don't give up. Keep praying. God wants all of us to come to a saving knowledge of Him, and until we do, He wants us to pray. Please know that I'm praying for you, also. As it was with Dayne, so it is with all of us. God is waiting . . . there's no time like now to make this decision.

Deep breath. You won't believe what I'm off to do.

Between hugs and kisses and time spent with my kids and my husband, I'm starting work on Family tomorrow morning! I'll be in Arizona for the wedding of a dear friend's daughter. I promised I'd bring you this series in quick installments, and this one was hardly quick. But the next one will be released this fall if all goes well. I can't wait. Only God will be able to get the Baxters and Dayne and Katy Hart through the challenges of the coming two books.

A side note. Donald's been teaching the kids "critical thinking."? It's sort of been a theme around the house. So it was very classic this morning when Donald was outdoors building a fenced kennel for our dogs and the kids gathered in the kitchen to watch. EJ came up, looked out the window and scratched his head. "So . . . will the dogs just jump over the fence anytime they need to get in?"

"Hmmm." I gave him a few seconds. "Critical thinking, EJ. How effective would the kennel be if the dogs could jump over the fence?"

He giggled and a lightbulb went off in his smile. On his way out the door he shouted, "I'll see if Dad needs help with the gate."

Here's to a day of "critical thinking" for all of us!

In His light and love,

Karen

Hi friends,

Well, life around here has been lots of writing, but only as parenting will allow. Yes, I can't mention names because of our ongoing witness protection program here at the homestead, but the kids are causing us some speed bumps. It's okay. They're just speed bumps, and Donald and I have noticed that every speed bump brings with it a fresh chance to talk about Jesus. So in the end, we still went to sleep last night praising God for the day, for everything about it.

This isn't the sort of trouble that involves doctors or policemen or firefighters or contractors or lawyers. An assistant principal, yes. But really, we'll all be fine. Still . . .sigh. It keeps your eyes on what really matters, God, and then God. And when it's all said and done, God.

One of the things we talked about yesterday was what motivates you, what drives you? Is it us as parents (no, in this case), is it God (sadly not again in this case) is it yourself (no, not even that this time). Instead it was the pressure of friends. We talked about how the only motivating source that will lead you to a life of abundant joy and strength and hope and eternity is just one alone: The motivation of God.

That, of course, led to a discussion of the cross. Jesus asks us to pick up our cross and follow Him. It's an easy detail to overlook because if you've read it enough times it sort of rolls off the tongue pretty painlessly. Take up your cross. But we asked the kids to picture Jesus, with his beaten and battered body, heaving the cross onto his back and suffering under the weight of it as he walked to his death.

Wow, the imagery is pretty strong.

The child most guilty yesterday had tears thinking about this. Because the Bible never said it would be easy. I think Donald and I realized that we are not being the parents we want to be, if we're not careful to balance our picture of the Christian life. Yes, you'll have peace that passes understanding. Yes, you'll have abundant joy, deep within you. And yes you'll have the Holy Spirit beside you, guiding you, protecting you on your journey through life and into eternity.

But . . . you will also have pain and suffering and temptation and trial. You will need to go against the grain, die to self and live for Christ. You will on occasion need to make decisions to go against your friends, even if leaving geometry for the chance to help your friend decorate her boyfriend's car in the school parking lot seems like a good idea at the time.

Part of our discussion with the young perpetrator child was to say that we believe with all our hearts God has made that child to be a leader. How amazing then for that same child to head off to youth group last night and be asked by the adult in charge if there would be a possibility this child would consider being a leader in the youth group.

Coincidence?

Hardly! God tells us in James 1 that the testing of our faith develops perseverance. Trials will certainly come, and they are much like working out our muscles. There's a breaking down period before the strengthening can occur. That child went to bed eyes glowing, heart full, even with a 2-week grounding period laying just ahead.

That's how good our God is. Hope you're finding the same thing to be true today, if not, read James 1. It'll help you find the balance, help you realize that for every person desiring a relationship with Christ, there's a rugged cross standing in the corner, waiting to be heaved onto a pair of weary shoulders. And there's God, even bigger, waiting next to it, ready to help you carry the load, ready to cheer you on as you go. Ah . . . the lessons of being a parent!

Have a great day in Christ!

Love, Karen

Hi friends,

I have to tell you about my amazing Sunday and Monday of this past week! I mentioned earlier that I'm writing songs in my spare time. Well . . .on Sunday afternoon we welcomed a few special guests to our home, Richie McDonald, lead singer of the hit country group Lonestar, and Ron Harbin, one of country music's brilliant songwriters.

The trip came as a result of my writing with Richie and Grammy-Award winning songwriter Gary Baker while in Nasvhille a few weeks ago. Back then we worked on the song I wrote for my brother, "Heaven Never Felt so Far Away."? While we were together, I told Richie about another song I was working on, "Dandelion Dust."

I told him once in a while I'll see a swingset overgrown with weeds and I'll feel sad for a minute. When it comes to our kids, nothing shows the passing of time more than that picture. I said I could imagine a song about a swingset overgrown with weeds, a tricycle turned to rust, and the days that disappeared, like dandelion dust.

Well.

He loved the idea, and he took time between Lonestar concert appearances on the East Coast to fly here with Ron and finish it up. We worked Sunday night and most of Monday before we were all beyond excited over this song. You will definitely need your tissues for this one. I'll just give you one line from the bridge.

"If dandelion wishes really worked she'd be . . . still in that swing, still here at home, still four . . ."

I promise you are going to love this song. I can't wait for you to hear it. I'm hoping to get a little bit of it on my website in the next week or so. Maybe with a few pictures of Richie, Ron, and me writing the song in my living room.

Here was the fun part. Sunday night my honey, Don, made barbecued hamburgers and I asked Richie if he felt up to singing a few of their songs. He was more than willing. Now here, I can't say enough about this guy. He's at the top of his game in singing and songwriting, winner of last year's Songwriter of the Year award, but he blended in like part of the family as he sang one hit after another. Now this was amazing, he sounds JUST like the radio. "Mr. Mom," "Already There," "Front Porch Looking in,"? "What about Now," "Walking in Memphis."? Seriously, the song list for Lonestar is made up of one hit after another. You need to check them out on www.Lonestar.mu if you aren't up to speed on their music.

As for my kids, I thought Kelsey was going to float to the ceiling.

She loves country music, has since she was two, memorizing the lyrics, and singing as she goes through life. At the end of the night we sang a rousing chorus of "Lean on Me" and Kelsey and Tyler capped off the evening by doing a few of their dance routines. Richie and Ron loved it, and later Richie told me he could have sang and played and been a part of that time all night long.

Without a doubt I believe God has brought me into this world, into the lives of some very humble, very talented people so that I can explore this other writing passion. Pray that the end product will become part of the life-changing work He has for me to do.

Otherwise, still writing Found. I ache for all these characters will go through in this book, and I know you will, too. I can't wait to have it out in August. I saw the first cover specs for Family, and they're breathtaking. Ashley Baxter is featured at the top, with Dayne and Katy in the middle. The copy line talks about a sister's love . . . sigh.

On another note, last night I saw a commercial for the upcoming movie, "The DaVinci Code." It looks compelling of course, but I found myself getting scary chills at what the build-up is really about. It's about questioning and doubting the greatest truth of all, the divinity of Christ. We need to pray that all this talk about the Lord will cause people to seek the truth, and not give way to manufactured doubts. That said, I'm honored that my next release is called, "Divine." Read about it on my website! Mary Madison, my main character, could only have been rescued by one who was truly Divine.

The kids are doing great. Austin got a goose-egg on his forehead the other day, bending down to tie his shoes a little too close to the kitchen counter. Ouch. But the news from that morning made up for it, he was drafted into the Little League Pac Coast league, a division usually reserved for 9- and 10-year-olds. At the ripe old age of 8, Austin has big plans for the spring. Hitting more homeruns than last year!

Hope your February is going well, and that you're taking time to follow your dreams.

In His light and love, Karen

Hi friends,

Well, we got through another Valentine's Day. In our early married years, I would anticipate Valentine's Day like a lovers' version of Christmas. From morning to night I'd hold my breath wondering when the surprises might arrive. Flowers . . . cards . . . thoughtful gifts??? Alas, I spent many February 14ths disappointed because of my expectations.

See, gift-giving is not one of my husband's love languages. When we're having a get-together and Donald's in the kitchen doing dishes, that's him telling me he loves me. When he brings his guitar wherever I am and softly sings me his feelings, that's him telling me he loves me. When he wakes up at 5 in the morning and walks around our property, praying for me and the kids, well, yes, that's him telling me he loves me.

Okay, so Valentine's Day? Not really his thing. But because we've both learned over the years how to love each other in the language we hear best, he is willing to meet the challenge of the day. And because I've learned to hear him tell me he loves me in his language, I am happy to let him off the hook. For instance, a few days ago he came to me with a nervous look. "Honey," he swallowed a lumpy swallow. "Do you want to go to a nice restaurant this year, or are you hoping for anything special?"

I smiled and pointed the kitchen counter. We had an event here last Friday and the hostess brought me a dozen long-stemmed red roses. Gorgeous flowers. They are still stunning even today. "I already have flowers," I told him. "And dinner's more fun when the restaurants aren't so crowded." He exhaled and a look of relief filled his face. "You're sure?" I hugged him and told him yes. Definitely.

All that to say that when I woke up yesterday and found a hand-made card lying near my pillow, nothing could've made my day brighter. His cute drawings of the two of us each in a heart, and a bigger heart surrounding us (representing God, he told me) and the letter he wrote me inside were better than any commercialized gift he might've bought me. Sigh. I'm so in love with the guy!

As the sole member of the Homeschool PTA around this house, I used my gift-giving love language and threw a party for my school boys, complete with decorations, contests, crafts, and pink milk. I'm not sure they needed pink milk, but they appreciated it all the same. Austin, our 8-year-old, had the most to say as the boys weighed in about love. "Mom, I hope when I fall in love it's not with a girly girl like Kelsey."? He cocked his head, thinking some. "I want a girl who can play sports with me and ride bikes and not have to worry if her makeup falls off."

Okay then.

Kelsey, meanwhile, went on her first actual date last night. The boy she's seeing is a strong Christian, and last night he arranged for the two of them to have dinner at a nice restaurant by themselves. The night was magical, and the debriefing between Kelsey and myself lasted late into the night. She still has more stars in her eyes than the sky ever hoped to have.

Dinner for us? Take out, while Donald and the boys and I watched the old Tom Hanks movie, "Big"?. We purchased it at Cleanfilms.com, so it was edited for any language or "stupid stuff"? as the boys call it. The edits on that movie were amazing! Very professional. If you're showing movies to kids, I highly recommend taking a look at that site. You can rent or purchase nearly any movie, and get what is basically a completely cleaned up movie.

Well, back to writing. I'm headlong into Found, and loving every paragraph. Wow, the things Dayne will have to go through in this book. And Ashley, too. Yikes. I can't wait to get it to you.

Here's hoping your Valentine's Day had lots of love!
Keep your eyes on Jesus.

In His Light, Karen

The sunshine is out and everything about life feels wonderful!

I'm working on Found, the next book in my Firstborn Series, and I'm loving it. Just one problem. I can see the light at the end of the tunnel, and it makes me sad every time I look at it.
I don't want to finish with the Baxters; they feel like real friends to me. Sigh. I realize I have three more books in the Firstborn Series, and another four in the Sunrise Series before I have to say goodbye, but I see the light. That's all. Yesterday I outlined Found and you are going to LOVE it! I can't wait!

Anyway, Kelsey is getting ready for another dance and she and Tyler are excited about earning parts in a big community production! That's the big news of the week around here.

Our trip to California was wonderful! The people who greeted me at Covina's Book Cellar were amazing! One group came five hours from Fresno just for the chance to have a small moment of getting to know each other! Another wonderful reader friend brought me a gift certificate to In-and-Out Burger! We used it for lunch before seeing Sound of Music. And the play was wonderful, too.

Ironically, it was mostly cloudy in So Cal this past weekend, but the sunshine here is all that matters. Yes, I write better in the rain, but maybe I think better in the sun? Not sure.

Some sad news. We had a photo shoot at my house some months back to develop illustrations for my gift-books coming out in May. Lots of moms and dads and kids showed up. One of the moms was a wonderful woman named Jody. Not long after the shoot, Jody became sick with cancer and this past week she went home to be with the Lord.

She leaves a husband and four young children. I am doing what I can to reach out to this sweet family, but please, pray for them. The photo shoot did not net a photo of Jody in the final product, but those of us who met her here certainly will always remember that precious time.

By the way, the books are called, "Stay Close Little Girl, Words of Love for Dads."? And "Be Safe Little Boy, Words of Love for Moms." Pictures of me and my boys, me and my dad, and Kelsey and Donald will appear in the two books. They are precious and will most certainly make you cry.
When you have a chance to see them, think of Jody's family.

Well . . . I'm enjoying the tinkering sounds of my boys practicing piano in the background, and the happy vibrations of lawn mowers starting up around the neighborhood. Hope you're all doing well.

More later. Love, Karen

I'm writing this quickly between trips. Lots going on, and I can definitely feel your prayers!

I had the great privilege of being keynote speaker at Christian Booksellers Association annual convention last week in Nashville. It was a powerful and tender time, convincing small Christian bookstore owners that they should fight to stay in business, that they certainly have a place in our society's landscape. In my opinion, Christian bookstores ought to be the malt shops of today's generation, the place where people meet for conversation and friendship and a personal bit of direction about what book to purchase.

While in Nashville I had the chance to write a few songs with two powerful songwriters - Gary Baker, and Richie McDonald, lead singer of the top country group, Lonestar. I wrote the lyrics to Heaven Never Felt so Far Away because of my thoughts on missing my brother. The song is beautiful, and might be something you'll hear on the radio one day soon. I'll keep you posted! When I came home I shared it with my husband and kids - they loved it. Kelsey cried, said it really reminded her of Uncle Dave.

So....this trip, the one I leave on in a few hours, is to California. I'll be taking in a few performances of Azusa Pacific University's Sound of Music (starring the son of a friend of ours), also doing a booksigning at the Book Cellar in Covina on Saturday, 11 a.m. to 1 p.m. I'm sure we'll also have time for a run to In-and-Out Burger - Kelsey and Tyler's favorite.

Still raining here! Next week I'll be writing Found, the next book in the Firstborn Series. I love those people. Pray for me that I'll find a way to include everything stirring in my heart!

More soon . . . . love you! Karen

Good morning!

We're on our twenty-seventh straight day of rain here in the Northwest. That's wonderful news for me, because I'm finishing up my novel, Like Dandelion Dust, and I love writing to the sound of rain. The kids aren't as excited. Yesterday I pushed past the halfway mark on this novel, and I've reached the place where it feels like I'm reading, not writing. That's my favorite part of writing a book, when it starts to literally write itself. Proof that any sort of professional writing is always and only a gift from God Almighty.

I want to share a favorite Scripture that's been on my heart lately. Hebrews 12:1-3. Therefore since we are surrounded by so great a cloud of witnesses, let us throw off everything that hinders and the sin that so easily entangles and let us run with perseverance the race marked out before us. Let us fix our eyes on Jesus, the author and perfector of our faith, who for the joy set before Him, endured the cross, scorning its shame, and is seated at the right hand of the Father.

The part I love best is that Jesus is called the Author of our faith.

I live a surreal sort of life, especially when I'm on business trips. People think because you write a book that touches their hearts, then you must be famous or special. I appreciate that, and I love the kind way my readers make me feel special. But the truth is we are all very special to God and to His plan for our lives.

When I'm signing books, there are times when hundreds of people show up and the line is 3-4 hours long. During that time I stay on my feet, the same way my readers are, and I make it my goal to become personal friends with each and every person I meet. We hug, we laugh, and sometimes we cry. Once in a while I'll pull someone a few feet away and we'll pray together. Whatever God leads in those few minutes of friendship, that's what we do.

There will be no autograph lines in heaven. That's why it's so important that people in my position realize that it is an amazing place of grace, a place God alone has given for His purposes. It is not about me, not in any way. It is about Him and what He wants to accomplish.

When a reader is touched by one of my books, when they write to me and tell me their lives were changed by one of my stories, immediately I give all glory and credit to God Almighty. He knew exactly what that reader would need, what storyline would touch and change that reader's heart. And He gave me the story in the first place.

Just thought I'd share that.

Well, it's pushing one o'clock. I better get back to writing.

Kelsey is getting ready for a formal winter dance, so today I had her call the florist to order her date's boutonniere. She was so precious, willing to do the job, but nervous at the same time. When the florist answered, she said, "Yes . . . I'd like to . . . reserve a boutonniere?" Then she held up her hands to me as if to say, "Is that right?"? I snickered a little and told her the word was "order"?. You'd like to order a boutonniere.

Ah, the joys of raising kids. I love it. More later . . . and thanks for stopping by my new website! I hope you get a chance to make yourself at home here. Leave prayer requests, or comments in my guestbook, make friends in the message area or find out about new books and places where we can meet.

My friends at Zondervan Publishing have worked very hard to bring this new website to you. They've brought in the greatest artists and designers, who have trained my assistant Katie so we can keep this website very current. They all have my greatest appreciation and thanks! We'd love your feedback.

Until next time, keep your eyes on Jesus, He's the greatest Author of all.

Love, Karen