Who Will Remember By T. L. Wiens

This is the first year I am free of having the school bus come to the yard. Until November, that was a fact I celebrated and missed nothing about being involved in the school system. But Remembrance Day always represented a special time in our house and the school Remembrance Day competitions were an opportunity to talk to my children and have them talk to the people who lived during the world wars.

 It’s been 70 years since WWII ended. The veterans who lived through that war are getting older and soon there will be no living person left to testify to the horrors of this war. All that will be left is the written accounts. 

It shows me  how important it is to get it in writing.

Here's my youngest daughter's last year Remembrance Day Poem.

Dust to Dust

By

Jenna Wiens

The wind blows

Dust into the soldier’s

Face.

His heart heavy

Thoughts of his family,

Home.

He walks on

His comrades

On either side.

The gun shots echo.

He falls

Blood stains the ground.

Images of his wife and children

Seep from his grasp.

His lips whisper a

Sweet, silent

Goodbye.

Honoured

At a grand church.

His family

Say their

Final goodbyes.

His body is returned

To the dust.

 

What is Politically Correct? By T. L. Wiens

It’s that time of year of ghosts and goblins. If I’m being honest, my idea of a “Happy Halloween” is no Halloween at all.

How come no one questions the whole commercialized money making monster that Halloween has become? Why is it okay to wish someone a “Happy Halloween” but “Merry Christmas” is wrong?

It bothers me. The same crowd that  unashamedly celebrates Halloween is a big part of the group that complains about my saying “Merry Christmas.”  Not that I want people to stop their Halloween celebrations. I just want the same respect I give them to be given in return. It begs the question, who is the real intolerant entity in this equation?

I don’t believe there is such a thing as being politically correct. You’ll offend someone no matter what you do. If we respect each other in our differences, we can all enjoy our holiday traditions.

You may be able to tell that political correctness isn’t a big concern of mine. I decided long ago to write as the Holy Spirit leads and let Him prepare the hearts of the readers. 

The Difference An Article Made By T. L. Wiens

For years, I suffered with debilitating depression as one of the symptoms of PMS. It got bad enough that I struggled with suicidal thoughts. I went to doctors but nothing was helping. Then I read an article in a magazine about another woman with very similar issues. She discovered eating flax seed made a big difference. What followed was the scientific end of the article. It seemed too simple but I started eating flax seed and the depression vanished.

I can’t tell you how thankful I am for that article. Sometimes we think what we are writing isn’t important to someone else or that something has been written already so there’s no point in one more story on the subject. We might have similar stories but we all have different audiences. And sometimes our way of telling it appeals in a way another article doesn’t.

God didn’t make a mistake giving you the gift of writing. Use it to His Glory.

Defining Beauty by T. L. Wiens

Can you spot the fake flowers?

How many of you have seen the articles that flash on your social media screen about this actress letting herself go or that actor no longer able to turn heads. If you click onto most of these, what you find are pictures of some famous person in their prime followed with a picture taken many years later.

I greatly dislike these “articles.”

A friend of mine told me a story about her visit to Toronto. She couldn’t get a cab to stop. One of these cabs was more than happy to stop just a few short feet away for a young blonde with fake boobs hanging out of her less than ample shirt. My friend is in her seventies and has many wonderful stories to tell.

Is this worship of youth silencing our elderly and making our society lose a precious commodity? The wisdom only that can be gained by living. And living ages people.

It hurts me as a writer to know the people behind these stories are called “journalists.” And I haven’t even started into the whole world of photoshopping. Even the people on the photos are complaining they can’t live up to their image.

It makes me wonder how much Hollywood has hurt our society. As a writer, can I do something to change it.

My Thoughts for Fort McMurray by T. L. Wiens

First of all, I know this has very little to do with writing but it has a lot to do with things we're reading and watching these days.

I’ve lost a house to a fire. Now that’s a small loss next to what I see happening at Fort McMurray but I want to share some of the things I experienced.

That first day after it all sinks in is a hard day. Nothing about it is real. The true weight of the loss is not felt. You survived and that’s about as far as you can think.

Then the donations start to arrive. When you just have the clothes on your back and they are covered with black soot that smells of smoke—not just any smoke but dirty smoke, you welcome a change of clothes. But the donations keep coming and while you are very thankful, what are you supposed to do with all of it?

I remember doing laundry the first time after the fire. I didn’t have a clue who owned what. I felt like a failure as a mother not to recognize my own children’s clothes.

We were fortunate to get into a place of our own very quickly after the fire. The Fort McMurray residents won’t have that luxury. There are so many decisions to be made. And so much to do. I lost all of my I.D. cards. I had to replace them. It all takes time and effort in a period when you feel lost, not sure where to start.

It’s been ten years since our fire. This is the first year I’ve thought about doing some landscaping. I had beautiful flowerbeds and a pond in front of the house we lost. I’ve never had the desire to put the work into making my yard look nice again until now. It takes time to overcome the emotional aftershock.

I know when I lost my house, God had a plan. He did much more than just replace all we lost. He restored my faith in my community which at the time I needed. He also proved to me He had my back. I didn’t need to worry about stuff. I hope these people can also see God’s hand even in an event that seems like God has abandoned you. He hasn’t.

My prayers are with the people of Fort McMurray and will be for a long time in the future because I know this journey won’t be over— even ten years from now. And maybe then some will write about it and we can all hear the stories of courage and faith that I'm sure are a part of this tragic event.

What is a Christian Writer? by T. L. Wiens

Clouds building across Lake Diefenbaker.

I have no problem identifying myself as a writer. I completed Nanowrimo three times over in one year. I’m not claiming to be a good writer—just a prolific one and for that reason alone, I have no doubts about the writer side of the equation.

Christian is a much more daunting identification. in Acts 11:26, we are told the word Christian is first used in Antioch. For years, I’ve thought about it as simply a follower of Christ or a believer but this name says much more.

Galatians come from Galatia, Ephesians come from Ephesus. I haven’t gone back to the Greek on this one but in English, it’s hard to miss Christian follows the same form. Just as Galatia was the hometown of Galatians, the early Christians appeared to those around them as coming from Christ. What about the early followers of Christ inspired those around them to see them as having Christ as a homeland? Kind of goes against the Oliver Wendall Jones saying, “Some people are too heavenly minded to be any earthly good.”

I love Jesus—no doubt about that but do the people around me see me as a Christian? Or am I just a church attendee and in the world’s eyes that makes me a person who follows a restrictive lifestyle dictated by a God they don’t understand?

It’s a struggle that I think I’ll continue to fight, doing my best to live a life worthy of being identified as a Christian. I think my writing will reflect my heart, just like the overflow from my mouth as mentioned in Luke 6:45. I pray that overflow shows my love for Jesus in every word.

Frustrated Shepherd by T. L. Wiens

I spent three days doing everything in my power to help a lamb survive. In the end, all of my efforts didn’t help him pull through. People in the business of raising sheep have a saying: “A sheep doesn’t need a reason to die.” It’s very true and this little lamb was proof of that—it was his own lack of will that prevented him from surviving.

“And Jesus, when he came out, saw much people, and was moved with compassion toward them, because they were as sheep not having a shepherd: and he began to teach them many things.”  Matthew 6:34

The phrase “as sheep” occurs nine times in the Bible. Clearly, there are some similarities between sheep and people. I wonder how many times the death of one of God’s “lambs” occurs because they don’t need a reason to die and they give up. The Shepherd is there doing everything He can to reach them, love them and give them life but they reject it all.

One of the ways the Shepherd reaches out is with our writing. I don’t care what genre it is from fiction to nonfiction, from novels to business papers, if we honor Jesus Christ in what we do, He can use it to His glory.

I spent three days sleeping very little, doing my best to encourage a little lamb. Think about how much time Jesus Christ spends on His lambs. How heart broken He must be when they fail to reach out and take hold of life. I can’t save anyone or change them. But I can be a tool for Jesus to use if I, in obedience, use the gifts He’s given me. Writing is one of those gifts.

He looked fine but it didn't last.

Two of these things belong together by T.L. Wiens

Before I get into my sheep experience, I want to send a shout out to Connie Inglis for her midweek moments. I’m not one to comment much but I do appreciate these uplifting tidbits. After reading about the humming, I realized I’d lost my hum. Working at getting that back. Thank-you Connie and to anyone who hasn’t checked them out, you’re missing a treasure.

My family raises sheep. It was never my plan to get into this but I am so glad we did. Recently, my husband and I attended a sheep conference. I’m not sure if it helped more for raising sheep or for writing. One of the first things that struck me as similar was the concept of culling the herd.

Last year, we had issues with our lamb crop. It was a big job to keep the lambs alive those first few days. We discovered it had to do with the grain we were feeding. We ended up with a few bottle fed lambs. It’s always a temptation to get attached and keep the ewe lambs of this bunch. But at the conference, we were warned not to do it. These sheep started weak and would most likely have weak offspring. They needed to be sold.

It reminded me of a writer friend of mine. He loves little tidbits of knowledge thrown into his manuscripts that he thinks are gems. Often they have nothing to do with the plot. Like the bottle fed lambs, he keeps them because of his own attachment. The strength of the manuscript suffers.

As a writer, it’s important to recognize the things that need to be culled no matter how near and dear to your heart they may be. This can be something as small as a repetitive word or phrase or as big as chapters or characters.

I’m not quite as ready to apply this knowledge to my sheep as my writing. It’s hard to let go of things that mean so much to you. However, I’ve come to understand sometimes to build a strong manuscript, you have to be able to hit the delete button.

My Miracle Lamb

The Tree - T.L. Wiens

Merry Christmas Everyone!

This will be a record breaking length of blog entry for me. I hope you enjoy this story, my gift to you. God bless you all and may this season be filled with thanksgiving and love for Jesus Christ.

 

The Tree

By

T. L. Wiens    

There was once a town that existed like all the other towns around it.  People went about their days doing their tasks without much thought about why they existed.  Then a man came to town.  He was a very wise man who taught the townspeople many things.  Suddenly they understood their existence.

            Once the man was sure they understood, he told the people to remember his words.  He gave them a book so they could always remember what he’d taught them.

            “I must leave you now,” he told them.  “It is up to all of you to carry on the work I have started.”

            With that, he left.

            The townspeople considered how they would keep the words of the man in their memories.  They decided to plant a tree in the center of town as a symbol of remembrance.  They all took turns watering and nurturing the tree.

The years went by and the tree became strong and tall.  Around it, many young saplings sprung out of the ground.  The townspeople faithfully cared for the trees.

            A family moved into the town around the time the townspeople had a public meeting as to who would take the job of caring for the tree grove that was very important to the town but people’s lives were too busy to spend their days caring for it.  A young boy from the new family stood.

            “I would like to know why this tree is so important.”

            No one seemed to know but assured him this tree and those around it were very important and must be cared for.  The boy was confused but felt he was up to the task of caring for these trees in hopes that somehow doing this job would reveal the tree’s secrets.

            He was faithful in his work.  He worked up the soil near the base of the trees, removing all the weeds and in his desire to do a good job, unearthed the book the man had left so many years earlier.  He read it, amazed by the wisdom of it.  He knew the reason for the tree and hurried to tell the townspeople but they were too busy to hear this small child.

            The boy began praying the man who had imparted the wisdom found in the book would come back—maybe the townspeople would listen to him.

            One day, an old man appeared at the edge of the tree grove.  He was dressed in rags and looked hungry and tired.  The boy spotted him and felt compassion for him.

            “Would you like to share my lunch?” he asked.

            The man gratefully accepted.  After they ate, they sat back to admire the tree grove.

            “So tell me, young man, why is this tree grove here in this place where so few trees grow?”          

            “I don’t exactly know,” the boy replied.  “The townspeople all say this is a very important tree to this town but no one seems to know why.  Then I found this book at the base of the tree and read its words but do not fully understand them.”

            “Could you show me this book?”

            The boy nodded. He soon came back holding the weathered old book. It was in great disrepair, the binding letting go and the words smudged from the time spent under the ground.

            The old man took the book and held it in his hand, his eyes filling with tears to see the condition it was in.  He shook his head at the truth of it.

            The boy stared at the old man and knew—this was the author of the book.

            “I have been waiting and praying for you,” the boy declared.  “You must tell them the meaning of the tree.  They will listen to you.”

            The old man shook his head again.  “No son, they won’t see.  They are more interested in the symbol than its true meaning.”

            With those words, the old man stood and headed down the street out of town.  The boy cried.

           

            Shortly after the encounter with the old man, the boy noticed one of the saplings was sick.  He consulted many books and discovered the disease of this sapling could destroy the whole grove. He hurried to tell the townspeople.

            “What do you think we should do?” one of the elders of the town asked him.

            “We have to destroy this sapling before the disease spreads.”

            The townspeople thought that was too drastic.  They ordered the boy to do whatever he could but not to destroy the sick sapling.

            Soon other saplings were getting sick.  Their once vibrant branches were empty sticks hanging in the air.  The boy went to the elders again, pleading with them to allow him to remove the sick trees.  The elders would not hear of it. They had raised this grove of trees up out of nothing and weren’t about to let anyone remove anything from it.

            The boy watched as all the trees in the grove became sick until all that was left was the great tree and the dead saplings surrounding it.  The boy made one more plea to the elders but again they refused to listen.  Soon the leaves of the great tree also began to turn brown as the life of the tree was eaten away by the disease.  Soon all that stood in the grove were dead trees, stripped of the majesty they once displayed.

            The townspeople called a meeting.  They all blamed the boy for the trees’ demise.  He hadn’t done enough to care for their important tree.  The boy and his family fled the town for fear of his life.

            Some years later, he returned to the town. He saw the townspeople gathered around the dead trees.  It appeared they were worshiping them.  The boy hung his head in sadness as he slipped away.

On his way out of town, he was joined by the old man.

            “Why do they stand and worship this dead thing?” the boy asked.

            The old man put his arm around him.  “They have mistaken the symbol for what it stands for.  They think the power is in the tree.”

            The boy nodded.  “How can I prevent from falling into this trap?”

            “Have you still got the book?”

            “Yes.”

            “Read it.  Live it and believe in me.”

            The old man vanished as suddenly as he appeared.  The boy smiled.  The old man was so much more than what he appeared to be and the words of the book were the truth he represented.  The tree was not the source of the life—only a symbol of it.  The boy opened the book and began to read finding the words had new depth and meaning—he now understood.

Wild Weekend by T. L. Wiens

I think this will be a Thanksgiving I’ll remember for awhile. First came the news that my mom had diabetes. Then she and my step dad were in a car accident. Thankfully, they weren’t badly injured. Mom suffered some whiplash. Then came the storm. Winds howled at sixty kilometers an hour plus. At some points, wind speeds of 125 km/hr were recorded. This caused accidents, property damage and power outages. We were among the lucky ones to get our turkey roasted. I finished the sides on my barbecue. As I review, I realize this is about the story of my life for the last year.

I know the purpose of a writer’s conference is to encourage writing. I guess I knew going in, my heart wasn’t there. I enjoyed meeting the people whose names I see on the listserv and Facebook. It was nice to put real people to the computer generated images. But my enthusiasm waned during the workshops. Then I attended Melanie Fischer’s session. I know what I got out of it wasn’t on her agenda but it was on God’s. I needed a break from writing.

For months, I’ve pushed myself to the computer and struggled to get things written. When I reread these efforts, I can see the lack of cohesiveness in the words. When I brought up the subject of taking a break with fellow writers, I got the standard advice to get to the computer and it will happen. I was miserable.

In Melanie’s workshop, we were asked to figure out the “cubby hole” where God wants us. The heaviness lifted as I accepted God had a different place for me than behind the computer for a time.

I came home rejuvenated. The guilt of not sitting at my computer was gone and still is. Funny, I’ve resisted this for so long and now that I just let go, things are happening. A lady read my book and loved it. She’s not a believer. She then gave her friend the book. I haven’t had encouragement like that in ages.

I will write again. I can feel the Nanowrimo urge building. But I won’t fight the rest and will remain a stranger to my computer until the Holy Spirit shows me the time has come to let Him speak through my fingers once again.

Rambling Thoughts—Talents and Gifts by T. L. Wiens

I’ve never found a list of talents and gifts in the Bible that includes writing. It is clear, some people have a unique ability to get words to paper just like some musicians make notes flow together. But is it a gift? Or a talent? Maybe it’s the medium God uses to enhance the gifts and talents bestowed upon us.

A talent is something you have that you develop over time. Athletes are talented in the area of sports. Many of us tend to lean towards jobs in areas where we have talent. Writing would very much fit under this heading. I recently met a young writer very resistant to seeking out any assistance—her writing was her gift. Sadly, I see a rocky path because of this stubbornness to realize it’s okay to develop a talent. There’s a lot more to writing than being able to put together 50,000 words to make a story and few of us have a handle on all the ins and outs involved in the process without some outside advice.

A gift is a bit different because you receive this from God. It’s the result of the Holy Spirit imposing something on you to enhance your spiritual life to bring glory to God. While writing itself doesn’t seem to qualify as a gift, for myself, much of the content within is reliant upon God’s guidance. My spiritual walk will influence this more than anything but I wouldn’t call this a gift.

Is writing a ministry? I struggle with this one. Many will disagree with me but I don’t believe pastors for the most part serve in ministry. Their need to eat dictates they work for their paycheque. If they were honest, most pastors would tell us that this holds them back in their ability to let God use their mouths as He wants. They are in many ways, hirelings. What makes something a ministry? I haven’t done a complete study but something I’ve noticed is the driving force behind the person. For some, that is serving God and spreading the gospel of Jesus Christ. For others, it’s fame and having a long list of friends with common household names. And for some, it’s money. While writing can be a ministry, I don’t believe it is for many writers.

So I find myself evaluating my writing and realizing that means evaluating my life; especially my spiritual life. I need to make sure it all points to the glory of God whether it be a talent, gift, ministry or my job.

The Simplicity of the Christmas Story By T. L Wiens

I love the Christmas account in the Bible. It’s simple and yet so filled with details—important details. But there are many details that a modern writer would be demanded to include— like detailed descriptions of characters and setting.

I will be the first to admit that I don’t like books with too much description. Recently, I was reading a story and enjoyed it until the author included a very detailed description of a character. It ruined the story for me; destroyed the image I’d built in my mind.

That makes me question how to straddle that line of adding details to a story without fracturing the imagination of the reader? I don’t have the answer but I do know when I’ve worked with publishers, it’s been something that I’ve found intrudes on my reading pleasure and writing voice.

How do we as writers bring the detail equation into a nice balance?

My Email Dilemma by T.L. Wiens

How many emails do you get a day? I’m swamped with them.

I have several email accounts that serve different purposes. Each one has enough emails in the day to take up all my email reading time.

It was wonderful when I figured out how to stop getting sites like Facebook sending me updates. That really cleaned up my personal email. But I still can’t keep up. Some of the emails to tell me about updates from another site are handy. But when you belong to a few groups here and there, the numbers become staggering. I seldom have a day with less than a hundred emails. I usually have at least 1500 a week.

I love belonging to groups like Inscribe but I have to say, the emails drive me crazy. It seems there are many threads which could be sent directly to the person. I’m glad we like to congratulate each other and let people know we’re reacting to their emails but could this be done on a private level rather than on the listserv?

Then there are the private emails that shouldn’t be on the listserv. If I want to talk to a specific person about a specific matter, I do it privately. It’s not only that it isn’t the right place for such a request, you never know when this request put out for all to see comes across as rude to another reader. I’ve had it happen when I’ve offered something to someone, they’ve ignored my offer and asked another person on the listserv for the very same favour.

Many people say (especially my husband) but you don’t need to read every message. That’s true but how do I know which ones do contain important information? Sometimes the subject of one thread is carried into a second thread.

With so many social media outlets these days and writers being told they must participate in these to be successful, we need to be aware of how we’re impacting our audience. I know for me, there are certain books I won’t read because my email has been flooded by an author.

We need to communicate with each other and our audience. I try to be respectful, aware where I’m sending my emails and how that social media will remind their readers about that message. I weigh the message of my emails and select the address accordingly.

I long for the day when I open my inbox and don't see a four digit number.

Catching the Details By T. L. Wiens

Last week, I discovered the bandages I’d bought made my lips numb when I used my mouth to remove the packaging. Over the weekend, I spent time with my husband’s family observing how people react to similar situations. It’s a habit I developed long before I ever thought about writing.

Writers need to be very observant. Life around you will provide the meat for the bones of the story. Those details will bring your story to life. I find it helpful to jot down these observations and store them in a file just in case my memory fails me. Other times I jot them down at the beginning of the manuscript where I think they’ll fit in so I have them to refer to when the time comes to use them.

We have an abundance of material all around us—make sure your watching and listening even when the keyboard is far from your fingers. Writers don’t get ever get a day off—those days away from the office need to be devoted to research.

House Moving by T. L. Wiens

This might sound an odd title for a post on writing. However, having spent days moving a house, I see a lot of similarities between writing a novel and moving and renovating a house. (And when I say moving a house, I mean my husband, myself, our children and a family friend moved the house—no professional movers involved.)

1. Mapping out the plot

• Moving a house requires a lot of planning. There are many factors to consider, some that just aren’t run of the mill every day things. Every tree, power line, the width of the road, the material used to build the house, the competency of the builder comes under scrutiny. The list is endless.
   
• A novel requires very much the same amount of planning. You have to keep characters realistic, situations plausible. There are many obstacles to the author as they manoeuvre their way from start to finish.

2. Be ready for adjustments

• No matter how well you lay out a plan, it doesn’t take much to thwart the efforts. With house moving, there are things like weather, surprises when you lift the house like joists not running where they should. A power line may be lower than thought or the house higher once loaded on the beams.

• Plots are very similar. As the author, you may feel you have the right to manipulate events but sometimes, characters just won’t co-operate. or as you write, the flow takes on a life of its own.

3. This is a marathon, not a dash

• You don’t want to rush a house move. That’s when bad things happen.

• Novels take time. You need to get to know the characters intimately and no relationship is built overnight.

4. End result lies in your attention to detail from foundation to decoration

• There is no step in taking a house from one location and making it a home in another that can be ignored. If you don’t take the time to prepare a proper foundation, the house will collapse. If you take no thought into the way you’ll be using rooms and what you’ll need where, it won’t be a pleasant home.

• A story is the same way. You have to do the legwork to start with a strong foundation. Setting, characters, conflict—they need to be carefully considered. But that isn’t enough. You’ll have to decorate your story with details that paint the picture for the audience.

In the end, I’ve enjoyed the process involved with moving a house. It’s been a good reminder of the steps I need to take to produce good writing. And an even better reminder that hard work pays off in the end whether it’s a book or a home you get to enjoy in the end.

Summer Writing By T. L. Wiens

I love summer but must admit it’s not a very productive writing time for me. This year I took on some projects that have proved to be more of a struggle than usual—personal stories.

I don’t know why I would take this on in the summer when it’s hard to find a moment alone to blubber as I struggle to find words to describe past life events. But sometimes it doesn’t have to make sense—just be what you’re directed by the Holy Spirit to be doing.

So, to the rest of you, I wish you a wonderful summer. If you’re not writing, I hope you’re at least collecting thoughts to be put on paper later—like winter.

My Editing Journey by T.L. Wiens

When I started writing, I didn’t like editing at all. I didn’t know how to receive criticism. It felt like a personal attack. But times have changed.

During my last meeting with my local writer’s group, I got praise. In fact, for twenty minutes or so, I listened to compliments on my writing. I’ve never been more uncomfortable. A part of me doesn’t want to hear praise. Praise is like reaching the top of Mount Everest—there’s no higher peak to attain to.

I’ve learned not to take criticism personally and have come to realize most editors really want you to improve. And some praise is good although for me I still prefer not to get it.

Writing seems like a solitary journey between author and page but in reality, we writers need the help of editors and critiques to reach our mountaintop. When’s the last time you heard of a solitary mountain climber reaching the top of Mount Everest?

My Cheerleader by T. L. Wiens

It’s important to have someone in your life that believes in you. I’m lucky to have such person in my life—my mother. She’s always been someone I can go to for support.

My mom isn’t just one of those parents who offer blind encouragement. She’s honest. I let her read my rough manuscripts and they come back to me covered in comments. If one of my stories doesn’t appeal to her, she tells me. She’s my first line of help in the long journey of writing a book.

I’ve watched shows on television where parents are standing behind their child, telling them they’re a star when in reality, it’s an unattainable dream. The child doesn’t have the talent. I often think it would be better for the parent to be honest so that the child could pursue true talents. I would be upset with my mom if she lied to me.

I’m blessed with a mother who gives me a true edit, not just in my writing but with many life decisions. But she’s not one to force her opinions on me. She’s watched me make mistakes and been there to help pick up the pieces. Since I was a teenager, my mom has told me that she taught me right from wrong and that I knew the right decision in most situations. It was up to me to take the right path. And she’s shown me a path of integrity and love that I try to follow so I too won’t be a blind cheerleader for those around me but an honest editor as well.

Time By T. L. Wiens

I wish I could say I have something amazing to share with you—some insight about writing that would touch your heart. I don’t.

Instead I am exhausted and my mind is on my maternity ward in my barn. We’re lambing on one end and calving on the other.

I’ve spent the last couple of months assisting in the planning of His Imprint Writer’s Conference. There’s been exciting times updating the website, creating brochures and posters, answering questions that come in…whatever comes my way.

When I’m not doing that, I’m helping my daughter with her tea company, Jenna’s Steapin Party. Did you know every tea has a story? I’ve finally finished putting together the tea half of the catalogue.

There is still the trucking company we run and the editing I do to take up any spare time. And of course, my granddaughter. She can override the needs of all the above.

Time—it’s always my enemy when it comes to my writing.

Merry Christmas! Or is it? -- by T.L. Wiens

Merry Christmas!

How can two words create such controversy? Quite by accident, I sent out a Christmas greeting to a large group when I hit “reply all” instead of “reply to sender.” It was a Christian group so I shrugged and thought it would be fine. I was so wrong!

The letters started to come in—nasty letters condemning my wishing of blessing as the world stops to celebrate. I want to be clear—my original note was in praise of Jesus Christ and my thankfulness for His gift to us of His life.

The Bible doesn’t in any way command us to celebrate the birth of Jesus Christ. I accept if others don’t want to but what I don’t understand is why they hinder those of us who do want to set apart a time to remember Jesus’ coming to earth. I think it’s kind of sad when the people who talk to me about being upset about Christ being taken out of Christmas are not followers of Christ. I think it’s sad that we as believers aren’t out there sharing salvation at a time when the world stops to consider a baby in a manger who became the man Jesus Christ, Savior of the world. I fear it will be Christians who stop the world from these considerations.

So, I wish all you in the Inscribe family a Merry Christmas! I pray it will be a time to remember a gift that yes, we should remember with joy every day we live and take the time during the Christmas season to stop and just praise God for His goodness and mercy while the world is watching.