One definition of the word “situation” is the way in which something is placed in relation to its surroundings. But often, when people talk about being in a situation, they usually mean that something important has gone bad in some way.
Not every day is a good day. We each have our personal situations. Some are social situations in which we don’t have enough confidence in ourselves. Maybe we are shy about conversing with others, afraid someone might be too critical of us.
Maybe our situation is that we’ve had a financial fall-out, and don’t know how to fix it.
Maybe there’s a person we love, who doesn’t seem to love us. Or maybe we have an addiction, such as drugs or alcohol.
For many, there’s the situation of betrayal by a friend, or spouse.
Or it could be that we’re lonely, or sick, or even dying.
Especially in the turbulence of today, we are confronting so many situations that can harm us! Some are self-imposed, because all of us have choices, and often we choose wrongly. Some are thrust upon us through no fault of our own, and we feel helpless for ourselves, our friends, our families, and our country.
So how do we handle these harmful situations? Can we do it on our own?
Well, the answer to that is that we don’t have to do it on our own. Not if we have God as our partner in life. Not if we turn to him in all those situations listed above and more. Even if they are situations we caused ourselves. God will help us through, if only we ask him.
Will our problems be solved every time in the way we want them to be solved? The answer is not always.
But if God is involved, if we give our situation to Him, if we let Him carry us, we can have peace, trusting that good will come from it in a way we may not anticipate.
I honestly do not know what I would do if I did not have God to turn to, and I’m sure many of you feel the same.
You’re my safe place, my hideaway You’re my anchor, my saving grace You’re my constant, my steadiness You’re my shelter, my oxygen
I don’t know who I’d be if I didn’t know You Thank God I do
I don’t know who I’d be if I didn’t know You I’d probably fall off the edge I don’t know where I’d go if You ever let go So keep me held in Your hands I don’t know who I’d be if I didn’t know You Thank God I do
Each of us have gifts, God-given talents. The gifts of some may seem more apparent than others. For example, in those who appear on our televisions, in our movie theatres, on our radios—the so-called “stars.” But the value to God of each individual’s gift is the same, because God does not discriminate.
Early on, when I lived in Birmingham, my neighbor and I shared a babysitter, an older woman we’d met at a nearby Garden Nursery. Her name was Mrs. Hays. Anything she put into the ground, grew. There wasn’t a plant or flower or tree she didn’t seem to completely understand. She knew what each needed to flourish. And she handled our young children the same way. Whenever she came, they did indeed flourish. The gift she gave our children, and my neighbor and I as mothers, cannot be measured. Mrs. Hays wasn’t on the big screen, or the radio, or newspaper, but she made a lasting imprint on four young children. She had a gift and quietly used it. No fanfare, just solid intention driven by a love for all things growing.
Sometimes those—not all, but some–in the spotlight seem to want only that—-the spotlight. Is this the purpose of their gift?
What would happen in our world if everyone had a common purpose for the use of their gifts? What if every singer used his/her voice to further the better instincts of a human being rather that the basest instincts? What if every actor, artist, writer, politician, or talk-show host used his/her talent to expose the true reason God made man?
Of course, it wouldn’t take away their, or our, fallen nature; we’d still have one. We’d still have our pet addictions, our meanness, our selfishness, our frequent disregard for others.
Still, a true and correct mindset behind use of our God-given gifts might remind each of us that we do have the ability to strive for higher things. And sometimes a reminder is all it takes to change.
None of us like controlling people. None of us like to be under the thumb of another, with their weighty opinions imposed upon us. None of us like to be ridiculed for what we believe, and forced to do what we don’t believe.
And we shouldn’t have to put up with it. We live in a country founded on our personal freedoms. We are not told what to do by some king and his council–are we?
Well. . .hmmmm. Let’s take a look at controlling people
Controlling people are self-centered and immature. They think they are bigger than they are. They don’t like your independence, only theirs, so they’re likely to make sure you don’t rule yourself.
How? They take away your choices, usually through manipulative propaganda, and if that doesn’t work as well as they would like, they enforce laws through some kingly, or executive, power they perceive they have been given.
But . . . . to take away a man’s freedom of choice, even his freedom to make the wrong choice, is to manipulate him as though he were a puppet and not a person.” — Madeleine L’Engle
We are not puppets in our personal relationships. Neither are we puppets to be used by those in control of our government. Yet, we are. And people are angry.
Not only at our president, but political parties. As controllers, they are also self-centered and immature, believing they are bigger than they are. Besides that, they may be too filled with avarice and pride to use typical common sense. Their words are used to tickle ears, to get the vote. But are they sincere? Or are they only using huge segments of the population to get what they want for themselves.
For the time will come when they will not endure sound doctrine; but wanting to have their ears tickled, they will accumulate for themselves teachers in accordance to their own desires.–2 Timothy 4:3
We need people, rich or poor, with guts and gumption enough to stand up for the sound doctrine on which our nation was built. Because the major issues we face today have not been soundly dealt with.
Now, it is our turn to decide. We can restore America. We can get rid of the pompous King Kongs already in our lives, and in our government who say one thing to secure a vote from others, but do something entirely different for themselves.
Nobody crowned them Kings, or Queens, of anything.
The idea for my latest novel Shooting at Heaven’s Gate published by Chrism Press, came from the third story in Birds of a Feather, my short story collection published by Wiseblood Books. Both books can be found on Amazon or from the publisher.
Do you think you’re at Heaven’s Gate? Do you think God wants you enough to allow you to climb the ladder? Well, you’ll never climb it unless you’re pure as fallen snow. Unless you leave room for God’s wrath, not your own. Repent! –The Old Preacher speaking to Edmund in the novel Shooting at Heaven’s Gate
Here’s a little behind the scenes info. Both the novel and the short story take place in a fictional town in Alabama called Bethel, which in the Bible refers to the Gate of Heaven and the site of Jacob’s Ladder. The name Bethel comes from the Hebrew beth, meaning house, and el, meaning God. Bethel means House of God. Numerous events of Bible History occurred there. For some time it was the place where the Ark of The Covenant, containing The Ten Commandments, was housed. Also, God’s appearance to Abraham, as well as Jacob’s Ladder – GENESIS 28:15-19
When Jacob awoke from his sleep, he thought, “Surely the LORD is in this place, and I was not aware of it.”
He was afraid and said, “How awesome is this place! This is none other than the house of God; this is the gate of heaven.”
Early the next morning Jacob took the stone he had placed under his head and set it up as a pillar and poured oil on top of it.
He called that place Bethel, though the city used to be called Luz.
Jacob’s ladder brings us closer to God by an often difficult climb upward and towards Him.
SHOOTING AT HEAVEN’S GATE
Satin is crouching at your door. You ain’t seen him coming, boy. Nobody seen him coming but the Lord Jesus Christ. Now, he’s after you. Don’t wait for his spear. Conquer him!
In the novel, Edmund is a young, married Sociology professor, haunted by his grandfather, a holiness preacher who, from the grave, constantly challenges to change his addictive ways. Except the young man ends up murdering his wife, and then, several other people, including a Dermatologist that Edmund has been led–by Dr. Mal Hawkins, head of the psychology department at their community college–to believe is having an affair with his wife. Mal is the real antagonist in the book, an atheist and true narcissistic sociopath, parading as Edmund’s friend even as he provides him with drugs.
To counterbalance all this evil with goodness, is Alma, a teenager who works the jewelry counter at Dillard’s, where she is surprisingly given by Edmund an expensive diamond necklace meant as a ‘gift of amends’ for his wife, who he does not realize he has killed.
Authors who take up the task writing fiction from a Christian perspective ultimately reveal whether they are theologians of glory or theologians of the cross. Kaye Park Hinckley is a theologian of the cross. Climbing Jacob’s ladder takes suffering. You will find the symbolism of ‘climbing up’ in several situations expressed in Shooting at Heaven’s Gate. You won’t find this kind of hard-core realism in the “Christian Fiction” section at Barnes and Noble where theologians of glory are cashing in big these days.
Here are dope fiend lunatics, adulterers, and drunks, along with hard working, sympathetic, normal folks – typically of the suffering spouse model. Theologians of glory take one look at these scenarios and quickly identify who gets the glory and who goes to hell. The problem with the standard Christian fiction fare is that the derelicts have a conversion experience and then things always get better. But in these pages, it’s not so simple.
In “Shooting at Heaven’s Gate,” a spiraling out of control college professor is haunted by the voice of his Pentecostal preacher grandfather who warns a grief-stricken adolescent that he must repent or face God’s wrath. But he also remembers the words of a kind Priest who had told him that God would continue to love him despite his actions. His actions as an adult become front-page news in the same way regular readers of Southern grit lit are accustomed.
We have a serious sinner on our hands, but we also learn that he suffered horrible tragedy at a tender age and a brain injury to boot. As far as we know, he never properly repented, but his actions put the words of the Priest to the test in a big way, forcing us to ask whether the promise made by the Priest concerning God’s mercy was just cheap sentiment. But this Priest, who only gets a passing notice, is a theologian of the cross, and the bloody mess of the cross is the only thing that will resolve this mess.
I’ve come to appreciate how messy life is, and how wrong it is to ever produce a work of art that implies otherwise. — Jim Hale, reader.
Is this statement True or False? Childish behavior is the opposite of adult behavior.
Well … do we ever fully let go of our childhood experiences—joyful or sorrowful? Either we expose them for all to see and hear, or we hide them so no one sees or hears about them. Regardless, our personal childhood experiences color nearly everything we do as adults.
The older I become, the more I’m assured of this—that our childhood years have created a blueprint for the rest of our lives. Sometimes a good blueprint, sometimes not so good.
This is precisely why childhood itself is so important—how and where we spend it, who was there, and most especially, what were the attitudes of our parents? More than likely–unless there’s a conscious effort— we express those same attitudes with our own children.
We not only look like our parents, but we also tend to think like them—unless something causes us to rebel—and many do rebel, swearing not to be a clone of either of their parents..
Still, we may later find ourselves like them. We may corner the sheets on bed just like our mother used to do. Or we may have interest in a particular sports team as our father did. Interiorly, we may have learned to solve problems the same as one or the other of our parents.
Because of our parents, we learned empathy for others, or not. We learned selfishness, or not. We put great emphasis on money, or not. We give of ourselves, or not.
As we grow into adults, we often try to forget any sorrows we may have had as children involving our parents, and our peers as well. We may even put aside the joys, too; intending to be ourselves, our own man or woman. Some who have been badly parented have success in consciously doing the opposite with their own children. But it’s not often any of us get away from the old tapes in our heads as our childhood re-plays. For better or worse, they are there.
The realization that your parents were human, and therefore, imperfect, can be tough to accept. We have a natural tendency to want to protect our parents. We even unconsciously identify with their critical attitudes toward us and often take on their disparaging points of view as our own. This internalized parent is what we refer to as one’s “critical inner voice.” It can feel threatening to separate from the people who we once relied on for care and safety.–Lisa Firestone, Ph.D, Psychology Today
Not all of us have/had mature, loving parents — and no parent is perfect. But even if our earthly parents fail, our heavenly Father never fails. Isaiah assures us, “Can a mother forget her infant, or be without tenderness for the child of her womb? Even should she forget, I will never forget you.” (Isaiah 49:15)
The love of God, Our Father, is constant and unlimited. In the parable of the prodigal son, the father loves his children beyond anything they have earned–the same way He loves us.
So when the blueprint of our earthly parents fail us, and our critical inner voice is heavy to bear, we can turn to the very personal and perfect love of God to become who we were truly born to be.
Behind all your stories is always your mother’s story, because hers is where yours begins.
― Mitch Albom, For One More Day
Happy Mother’s Day to all mothers. You are experiencing a rare kind of love.
The love for your child is special because it has the capability of being a truly holy love, a love that sometimes calls for intense sacrifice, a love that puts your child ahead of yourself and your own desires. A love that mimics the love of Mary for Jesus.
A mother–every mother–is forever bound to her child. And at one time or another, she will experience sorrow.
Sorrow. Maybe because of what her child does.
Sorrow. Maybe because of what is done to her child.
Often what is done is betrayal. And sometimes betrayal by one’s own country when that betrayal is performed by leaders who are supposed to protect. We saw that in the debacle of the US defeat and chaotic retreat in Afghanistan.
And I still remember the 2016 tragedy of Benghazi when on the first day of the Republican Convention in Ohio, revelations by the mother of Sean Smith, one of four Americans killed in Benghazi, brought me to tears. American Ambassador Chris Stevens, Sean Smith, Tyrone Woods, and Glen Doherty pled for help from the U.S. government to no avail. “All security had been pulled from the embassy, Patricia Smith said. “Nobody seemed to listen, nobody seemed to care. . . .The last time I talked to Sean, the night before the terrorist attack, he told me, ‘Mom, I am going to die.’ ”
What a tragic betrayal! A current story, one of many, where the life of a child is snatched from his/her mother; and yet, the mother courageously goes on to make sure that her child did not live in vain.
My heart aches for all mothers who have lost beloved sons and daughters, precious gifts from God.
What can a mother do with her sorrow? What good can come from suffering?
We might remind ourselves that it was the betrayal and sufferings of Jesus Christ on the Cross that opened for us the gates of Heaven.
We might picture Mary there, at the scourging at the pillow, at the crowning of thrones, and remember how she followed her son as he carried his cross. How did she feel as she knelt beneath the cross, watching the unbearable crucifixion and death of her beautiful son?
Her mother’s love, her sacrificial love, was a perfect love.
THE SORROWFUL MYSTERIES OF THE ROSARY
1.The Agony in the Garden. Fruit of the Mystery: Sorrow for Sin, Uniformity with the will of God
2.The Scourging at the Pillar. Fruit of the Mystery: Mortification, Purity
3.The Crowning with Thorns. Fruit of the Mystery: Contempt of the world, Courage
4.The Carrying of the Cross. Fruit of the Mystery: Patience
5.The Crucifixion and Death of our Lord. Fruit of the Mystery: Salvation, Forgiveness
When The Ghosts of Faithful won First-Runner-up for Poets & Writers Magazine’s Maureen Egen Award, it was a novel in progress. Here’s what Victor La Valle, author, Professor at Columbia, and Judge of the contest had to say about it:
Faithful suggests a broad canvas–a well-rendered local; a promising war of equals in the characters, a clear desire to address/tackle the issues larger than the back and forth, and a clear understanding on the author’s part about pacing and clarity. Also, I thought the father’s chapter was really funny!
IN 2019, THE GHOSTS OF FAITHFUL was Runner-Up for the American Fiction Award, and also won the Independent Press Award for Religion Fiction. ‘Ghosts’ was the second novel of mine to win this prestigious award. The first, The Wind That Shakes the Corn: Memoirs of a Scots Irish Woman, won the same Independent Press Award in 2018.
My novels are labeled Religion Fiction, but they are really about everyday people, flawed people just like you and I. Flawed people who are presented within the context of being very valuable. Why? Because they are human beings created by God, and no matter what they are doing or have done, their actions are known by God who loves them. Do the characters change their ways? Some of them do, and some don’t. That’s life.
I WRITE FICTION AS I DO BECAUSE OF MY CATHOLIC FAITH.
WHAT’S DIFFERENT ABOUT THAT?
I.
First of all, the soul of Catholic Fiction is that God exists and works in the lives of sinful, fallen in people who have totally rejected Him–and that He does this out of love, regardless of how forcefully a character tries try to shut Him out. And we need to know that.
2.
Secondly, because Catholic Fiction points to our true identity as human beings, which is that we are not just happenstance entities placed on Earth. We are God’s children, created by Him and made in His image and likeness, and that we have a greater purpose here. And hopefully, Catholic Fiction does this through stories in which we can see ourselves, and with language and imagery that points to the divine in each one of us.
3.
And then, thirdly, Catholic Fiction attracts us to what we lack on Earth, something larger and more beautiful than what this material world can give. And honestly I think in their hearts most people know this. It may not be the underpinning of a lot of fiction as much as other subjects are, but the yearning is definitely in every person, though they may have crusted it over with ‘stuff’ that our culture says we ought to have. And this is an innate yearning that only the divine can satisfy. People are seeking the beauty of God, whether they classify it as such or not.
WHAT IS THE KEY CHARACTERISTIC OF CATHOLIC FICTION?
The Sacramental aspect of the Catholic Church. We are bound by the Sacraments of the church and believe that they are instruments of grace. Think of our definition of grace—an outward sign instituted by God to give grace. Then go to this Flannery O’Connor quote:
From the Sign to the thing Signified From the Visible to the Invisible From the Sacrament to the Mystery
The Catholic sacramental view of life is one that sustains, and supports at every turn, the vision that the storyteller must have if he is going to write fiction of any depth.
ABOUT THE GHOSTS OF FAITHFUL
Izzy Collier runs the Food Bank in a town called Faithful, on the banks of the Suwannee River. She is the least amicable of two daughters in a frustrating family; all, keeping secrets of betrayal. Her parents are at odds with both daughters, and with each other. Her sister, always Izzy’s competition, is an unstable former beauty queen, the wife of a philanderer, and the mother of four. Now, their ninety-four year-old grandmother sees her dead husband’s ghost, accompanied by a strange little girl. At the same time, Izzy’s husband, a defense lawyer, is being forced by his boss to effect the acquittal of a teenager accused of the rape and murder of a child. When Izzy starts to see her deceased grandfather and the little girl, too, she questions her sanity. What if the little girl ghost is the murdered child? But then, why would she be with Izzy’s grandfather? Are the ghosts after revenge, justice, or something greater?
Given the recent heartbreaking violence in America, produced by intense hatred and the lack of consequences attitude of the current administration, I offer a book I worked on intermittently for nearly twenty-five years, a book with a theme of vengeance that leads up to the First American Revolution after which Americans began to build a country above all others.
THE WIND THAT SHAKES THE CORN: Memoirs of a Scots Irish Woman
A Brief Background
Throughout the ages, human history has been dominated by the selfish desire to control and subjugate. Whatever the reason for the conflict–territorial, economic, political, or religious—nations, races, and individuals, have resorted to violence and warfare to resolve disputes, rather than compromise. Whether the reasons are just or unjust, the conflict drastically diminishes, and even snuffs out, the lives of both guilty and innocent human beings. We certainly see this today in high-crime cities where there are no consequences for even the most heinous acts.
Most nations and individuals espouse convictions that call for charity toward neighbor, but avarice and malice can overwhelm those convictions and lead to violence. When violence is perpetrated, it regularly breeds vengeance. Vengeance leads to more conflict and the whole circumstance becomes an endlessly spinning wheel. Numerous powerful nations have activated such a wheel. Is twenty-first century America on its way to doing so as well?
In the eighteenth century, England was one of its greatest executors, and the people of Ireland, its casualty.
England feared the old faith, Catholicism, which the nation as a whole had cherished for over a thousand years, and sought to annihilate it. The Crown enacted the Penal Code, the price an Irish Catholic had to pay for refusal to conform to the new religion of the Church of England. From 1558 until 1769, the English Protestant government imposed the Penal Code on a country that was 97 percent Catholic. Naturally, feelings of vengeance abounded in those Catholics. And later, when the Penal Code was extended to Presbyterians, vengeance and hatred for the Crown intensified.
The Wind That Shakes the Corn is a story of those long-held hatreds. It is also a love story, about one woman’s difficult journey toward letting go of past grievances–the only way to allow for genuine love.
The Wind That Shakes the Corn, a memoir of fact and fiction, is based on the life of Eleanor Dugan Parke, my eighth great-grandmother who for ninety-nine years lived through it all. Nell Dugan has a history that has given her a fanatic heart–capable of great love, but also great hatred. Her story has been passed down in my Scots Irish family. Of course, much of this novel is imagined, though England’s cruel control of Ireland’s people, the American Revolution, and some of the real players are factually told.
The Story
In 1723 Ireland, Nell, an unruly Catholic girl, falls in love with the grandson of a Protestant Scottish lord. On their wedding night she is snatched from his arms. As he lies bloodied on the ground, she is thrown on a British ship headed for a sugar plantation in the West Indies, where she is sold into slavery. But Nell is a person of learned strategies, never to be underestimated. Beautiful and cunning, she seduces the plantation owner’s infatuated son who sneaks her away to pre-revolutionary Philadelphia. There she agrees to marry him, eventually falling in love with him, but keeping her first marriage secret as she becomes a loyal wife and mother–and a tireless rebel against the English rule.
Tensions rise between the Patriots and Loyalists. Nell sees opportunities to pay back the English–blood for blood with no remorse–not only for her own kidnapping but also for her Irish mother’s hanging two decades earlier. When her first husband shows up in Philadelphia, very much alive and married, too, emotions between them run high, but Nell’s Scot remains stoic and the two families actually bond in their desire to leave the turmoil around them and take advantage of land offers in the Carolinas. Except the American Revolution follows in full flow to Carolinas. Nell experiences a tragic crescendo for her family after the Battle of Kings Mountain that only increases her desire for vengeance.
And then, a child is born. The dangerous circumstances of his birth cause a final migration into the wilderness of the Mississippi Territory to a cave of miracles, where Nell’s eyes are opened at last to what it will take to truly love.
The Wind That Shakes the Corn is not only Nell’s story, it is the saga of the feisty Scots Irish immigrants in a burgeoning America, and their heart-held faith and courage that led the struggle toward freedom. The novel spotlights both Catholic and Protestants immigrants to America who brought with them age-old grudges against the English Crown.
Love and hate, life and death, trust, betrayal, and the ‘always hovering’ choice to forgive, are prominent themes in this novel. In fact, they are themes that every person on earth struggles with, aren’t they?
And yet, in the end Nell confesses: “I am struck by the craving common in every man–white, red, or black–for more than he has, for more than his share; that prideful warring to complete himself, and only himself, despite consequences to another. I have come to this conclusion: genuine completion is not meant to be found on this earth, at all.” — Eleanor Dugan Parke, c.1799
The Wind That Shakes The Corn won the Religion Fiction category in the 2018 Independent Press Awards. It was also Runner-up for the Josiah Bancroft Award for Novel sponsored by Florida First Coast Writers, and a Finalist in the New Orleans Pirate’s Alley Society William Faulkner/William Wisdom Writing Competition.
Several years back, I held a Stories of Faith workshop in my parish. The purpose was to consider a particular time that God had been present in the participant’s life, and for him or her to write about it.
At the beginning of the workshop, each person was to write down a single word that might express his or her own faith experience. There were 18 participants, and there were 17 different words expressed. Only two people picked the same word!
I was amazed at how varied the responses were. But aren’t we all so different? God touches us very uniquely in our particular situations. How vast, how great, how infinite He must be!
Some of the words were: relief, patience, love, thankful, surrender, acceptance, frustration, tears, lost, joy, and many others that escape me at the moment. But there was one word expressed that really touched me because I have felt it personally. That word was Fear.
I happen to know that the lady at workshop who chose the word, Fear, had transported herself and her family to Dothan after surviving the terror of Hurricane Katrina that practically wiped out her small town. I cannot imagine what she lost. I can, however, imagine her fear. For most of my life, I’ve had to work to overcome this emotion–in small things, as well as in larger ones.
At the workshop, this lady didn’t read aloud what she’d written as some others did. So I can’t speak for her, only myself.
As I’ve said before on this blog: God loves us madly, even though we are sinners. If we don’t accept that God loves us, we will be fearful. If we don’t accept that His mercy has redeemed us, we will be fearful. If we don’t trust Him to always be with us, we will be fearful.
But when we accept that God loves us, that love of His often calls us to do what is uncomfortable. It calls us to actions that may well strike fear in us. It may be something as seemingly simple as reaching out to a person we don’t like very much. Or it may be as complicated as giving up something, or someone, we’ve become excessively attached to.
So is this the cat biting its tail? We look to God to keep us from fear and what does He do? He allows fearful people and situations in our lives? He gives us a task, a calling, that frightens us to death?
The difference is that He is beside us in this task, whatever it might be.
I am certain that God is in every person’s life whether the person acknowledges Him or not, believes in Him or not. From the moment of conception, God is in everyone’s life, almost like a divine flashlight we carry with us that brings darkness into light. Even if our life is a disaster. Even if it is destroyed by vices, drugs or anything else—God is the life of every person. Even in a life full of thorns and weeds, God can shine out a space in which a good seed can grow, prosper, and ultimately change us.
This is exactly why we don’t have to fear. We only have to accept that God is present and with us in everything. We are never alone.
This is, of course, key in Catholic fiction—it’s what we authors strive to infuse into our novels and short stories– God’s divine presence like a flashlight within us.
Again Jesus spoke to them, saying, “I am the light of the world. Whoever follows me will not walk in darkness, but will have the light of life. John 8 :12
Translating a World on the Edge 