Category: Uncategorized

Ramblings · Uncategorized

Happy Birthday Little Blog

Rebekah EckardLeave a comment

One year ago today, I started a challenge to cut back on my consumption, and spend at least fifteen minutes every day creating. There were no other parameters. I could knit. I could draw. I could write. Yes, I would write.  I didn’t know if I would  make it through a whole year, but I thought I could try. So I spent the last year establishing a habit of creativity.

And let me tell you friend, this is a habit I will cultivate the rest of my life.

In the beginning, there were days where sitting down to write seemed like the hardest thing I could ever to do. There were nights where I would come home, and I just wanted to fall asleep. But I didn’t do that. I pulled out my computer, and I forced my keyboard  to form pictures  out of words.

And it has changed the way I live each day.

Now, I know I’m prone to hyperboles, so some of you may not be believe me when I say this. However, my hope is that by the end of this blog/rant you may grasp the tremendous effect of a small habit. My hope is that you may be encouraged to do the same as I did. To pick up a paintbrush. To put your words down on a page. To do whatever it is your hands have been tingling to create.

So, you want proof, right? How did this silly little habit change my life? I took a long list of twelve, and narrowed it down to two things that this habit of creativity is teaching me. Neither one has anything to do with skill or craft mastery, because that is not what’s important. I’m not asking you to spend time creating so that you can be a better artist (although that will indeed happen), but because I know that along the way you will grow more in love with your Maker, his creation, and -dare I say it- yourself. So, without further ado…

2 things Creativity is teaching me.

1. There is still magic to be found in this broken world. 

I mentioned a few moments ago that when I first began this endeavor, I struggled with what to write about. It would take me an entire month to write a poem. I didn’t know how to generate ideas. My friends will tell you I’m a do-er.  Give me a task and I become a horse with blinders. The end is all I can see, and I’m going to run as fast as I can to get there. But that’s now how Creativity works. You can’t force it. It’s not something you can mark off your to do lists.

Creativity for me is a lot like Pokemon Go. (I bet you never saw that sentence coming.)  You can’t sit in your house on your computer and wait for cute little monsters to show up at your doorstep. You have to go out into the world and walk around a bit. Only instead of searching for Pokemon, you’re searching for beauty – for magic.  You’re searching for something that makes your heart sing. And when you find it, pull out that Poke Ball and capture it (which is easier said than done, I know). Stick  it in iPhone Notes App and let it grow. Collect more, and let them grow. They will evolve and become stronger and more beautiful. And then, that’s when you share them.  Because beauty is a lot like the little boy with two fish and five loaves. When you have something to offer, you may not think it’s enough, but offer it up anyways. And the next thing you know, it’s the hands of One who can take your small offering and feed a crowd of thousands. The more beauty is shared, the more it multiplies.

So when the shopkeeper down the street is laughing loudly with his brother like an unhindered child, catch it. When the sun makes the cobblestone streets glow a dull pink color just before sunset, catch it.

Because YES, in the midst of all the bombings and strife and wars and hate-filled speeches, there is still beauty to be found. I’ve seen it. I’ve experienced it. And I want to share it. I want to bring it out of the background of our photographs and into the forefront of ours minds. When we have long forgotten about our Maker and Savior, it is beauty that can bring us back. It is beauty that can give us hope, that just maybe, things won’t always be this way. Could it be that there’s more to this life than toil and pain?

Yes. And I’ve got Poke balls full of moments to prove it.

My iPhone Notes App is filled with lines of poems I have yet to finish. (It’s kind of a mess, really.) In between grocery lists and to do lists and all sorts of lists, I’ll find these little gems: two or three lines of a poem or a song, or an idea for a short story that I typed out while waiting in line or  walking home from work. I’m learning to channel a simple moment into verse. You don’t have to “catch em all”, but what if you just started just searching for one?

2. There is no such thing as failure. 

Before this year, I had never tried watercolor. I had always loved the feeling of brush stroke swishing across a page, but I was afraid I wouldn’t be good at it. Now is the time when I would very much like want to go off on a philosophical tangent about what “being good at” something even means, but I won’t do that. Because frankly, it doesn’t matter. You see, it doesn’t matter if your flowers look like mud puddles when you draw. Do you enjoy it? Wonderful, then draw. If it is moral and physically/financially possible for you, and you enjoy it -whatever “it” is- then do it. It doesn’t matter if you’re good at it. What matters is that it’s good for you.

That’s what I love about art really. It’s so gracious. Art by very definition is experimental. It molds over time and with each person who handles it. It doesn’t judge but simply submits itself to whatever the artist needs from it. Art doesn’t seek results, it seeks transformation. It seeks communication. Any criticism that we receive comes not from the our creation, but from ourselves. This year, I have learned to accept that I am human. In fact, I’ve learned to enjoy it. This life-long learning curve can be fun if you free yourself from this silly idea of perfection.

I’ve been wanting to write “A Fortress for Aeda” for years. I kept myself from it, because I knew I would never be as good as C.S. Lewis. I’m not kidding; that’s why I didn’t write. I was embarrassed that I would never be the writer that he is. And while I still treasure him as a writer, I’m learning to love myself as a writer as well. I like the way I see things. I like that I’m a cynic who writes fairy tales. And I believe that the stories I’m writing needs to be heard, just as I believe every child everyone should read the Chronicles of Narnia.

I’m going to tell my stories with all the beauty and charm and goodness that I can muster. And that is enough.

In short, this year I realized that being a dreamer was a good thing, because dreamers see the world as it will be. And I am learning how to take those dreams and slowly bring them into being. And yes, I’m probably not going to be the next Lewis. But when we stop defining success as a destination and more of journey, then we don’t have to be afraid of failure because it won’t exist. But if we simply strive to call beauty out from it’s hiding place, then every day we can work with joy knowing that what we have to offer matters.

Oh, and my big announcement?

A Fortress for Aeda is currently going through (and has been for several months) some very intensive rewriting and editing sessions. She’s getting new chapters and her old ones are getting reworked because, well, I’m going to publish her.

The goal is to have “A Fortress for Aeda” out by Thanksgiving. (Okay, Christmas at the very latest).

A year ago, I’d barely written anything. I just had this dream of one day writing a novel. Maybe. And I’ve still got so far to go. But I’m taking hold of my dream. I’m working towards it. And it started with 15 minutes.

So, please friend. Start today. Right now. Pull out those pencils, go buy that new watercolor pallet, start that story you’ve been writing in your head. Get your hands dirty with beauty.

You have the time. You have the creativity (I promise you). And you can not fail.

 

Expanding my Imagination for the Small
Uncategorized

Expanding my Imagination for the Small

Rebekah EckardLeave a comment

I’m trying to write an Epilogue to a short(ish) story I just finished recently, and I was having an extremely hard time picturing the room in which the scene took place. I’m just not a detailed person. I know the basic plot. I know where my characters are going and where they’ve come from. But don’t ask me what sits in the corner of Aeda’s room or what color her curtains were. I don’t know- but I should. There’s an exercise I’ve been trying to practice before I write a scene: I sit down and I try to imagine a 360 degree view of the room the scene is taking place in, down to every little detail. What sounds would my character hear? What would they smell? How would they feel? What colors were those curtains?  It’s a work in progress. But I sat down last week to immerse myself in what exactly the room would look like, I couldn’t picture it. Everything was fuzzy, even the basic structure of the the room eluded me. I sat for nearly half the morning, I even tried drawing it out on graph paper. Nothing worked.

But lucky for me, I now live within 30 miles of at least twelve Palaces, and so over the weekend I took a day trip to “do some research” for the scene. Boy, it did not disappoint. I was overwhelmed by how creative and ornate and unique every single room was. Every chandelier was different, every fireplace was carved from different stone, every floor design had different markings. And the details that went into each room were so precise. I couldn’t even imagine how many artists had spent countless hours working through the designs and carrying them out, or how many builders it had taken to complete the task.

The creativity was inspiring, and I walked away with thousands of ideas of which I’ll probably steal two or three for my book. There were things I had never even thought of: hidden beds, flowered chandeliers, and rooms made entirely of glass. These are the master artists, who can take a grand idea and narrow it down piece by piece. It really opened my eyes to think smaller, and to really imagine every single detail just like they did. But I think the biggest lesson I learned is that yes, sometimes you gotta wall yourself in a room and get to work, but there are other times when you need to put down the pencil (or the paintbrush, or the keyboard, or whatever) and go out and see the beauty that someone else had made. “We were never meant to create alone.” And sometimes that means collaborating together with out community, and sometimes that means gaining inspiration from artists that lived hundreds of years ago.

I’ve attached some of the pictures I took below. *Warning: I’m no photographer, but I just couldn’t help myself.

Tea Room (1 of 1)
The Tea Room at the Chinese House (my personal favorite)
Windmill (1 of 1)
a Windmill & a Winery
Ball Room (1 of 1)
for the smaller parties of 100+
Ruin View (1 of 1)
Those are achient ruins in the distance imported from Rome. NBD
Rooftop (1 of 1)
Not quite sure what this is, but that rooftop… *swoon*
Chandaleer (1 of 1)
One of the Coolest Chandliers I’ve ever seen.
Castle Grounds (1 of 1)
The New Palace, Fryderik the II’s summer home.

 

 

Ramblings · Uncategorized

Find Your Inklings [Creating in Community]

Rebekah Eckard3 Comments

Today’s blog is in honor of Lewis & Tolkien’s Friendiversary. So go grab yourself a scone and a cup of tea, and your favorite book. And remind yourself of the beautiful things that can be created when we surround ourselves with people who help us dream.

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A few weeks ago, I found an amazon gift card I received -and promptly lost- as a Christmas present. This led to an impulsive splurge on Amazon with the first book I could find. Two days later (shout out to amazon prime), I found “a Hobbit, a Wardrobe, and a Great War” sitting on my doorstep. True to it’s title, the book considers how the first World War influenced the writings of Tolkien and Lewis, who spent time in the trenches as foot soldiers. I’ve never been detail oriented enough to sit through a history lesson well, but throw in a story and you’ll have me hanging off the edge of my seat. And that’s exactly what Loconte does, weaving in both Tolkien’s and Lewis’s personal experiences while also casting a broad scope of the War and it’s effects on England.

Almost inevitably I came across a section on the friendship between Lewis, Tolkien and the rest of the Inklings and I found myself gripping the page tightly and smiling like a fool. Most of us have probably heard of the famous group that met together at Oxford. However, it was upon reading this portion of the book that I began to understand the magnitude of their devotion to one another. For sixteen years, the group met every Tuesday morning and Thursday night to share their stories with one another. Even -perhaps especially- in the midst of the Second World War, they continued to meet. Even once their time together had ended, Lewis and Tolkien continued meeting and reading each other’s writings aloud to the other. Tolkien, said of Lewis in a letter,

“C.S. Lewis is a very old friend and colleague of mine, and indeed I owe to his encouragement the fact that in spite of every obstacle [including the 1939 war] I persevered and eventually finished The Lord of the Rings. He heard all of it, bit by bit, read aloud.”

Think about the countless hours Lewis and Tolkien must have spent reading through Lord of the Rings together.  Lewis, probably being the first to ever hear parts of the story, had a critical role in it’s completion. In a time when fantasy and heroes had been exchanged for skepticism and machinery, Lewis saw the NEED for Tolkien’s story to be told. He saw a need for the public of England, blinded with the Enlightenment, to experience and believe in myth, in hero, and in adventure once again. He saw the need for the simple country folk to understand what could become of a world that tears down the Shire to build factories upon it. And He saw the need for a generation of men to mourn those lost in the war.

“So much of your whole life,” said Lewis in a letter to Tolkien,” so much of our joint life, so much of the war, so much that seemed to be slipping away quite spurlos [without a trace] into the past, is now, in a sort made permanent.” While Tolkien had his head stuck in piles of paper and ink, Lewis was able to look upwards- toward the future- and see what would become of all of it. And when it came time for Lewis to publish his own tales, The Chronicles of Narnia, it was Tolkien who wrote to his publisher, imploring him to consider the books.

As I sit here, in a coffee shop some eighty years later, I can’t help but draw parallels to my own hardships as a writer. I’ve had a story of my own stuck in my head for four years now, though I haven’t had the courage to start writing it until recently. As I set about putting it in print, I realized I had some major plot holes in the story. I tried to come up with a creative solution, but I just could not get past them. I kept telling myself, “No, that’s stupid, that won’t work” over and over again. (Let me tell you right now that there’s nothing that kills creativity more than a good dose of self doubt.) But one day, as I found myself without internet access and sitting on my best friend’s couch, I began talking through my story with her. For the better part of an hour, she sat there and just listened. And then, something miraculous happened: she told me I wasn’t stupid and told me to keep talking. She told me my idea wasn’t as horrible as I thought, that it might actually be beautiful. I felt like a paralytic who had just been healed- ever stagnant but now could get up and walk -maybe even run- wherever I chose. One week later, I had written through one plot hole, finding hope and confidence that I could overcome the others that I would face. So, when reading of the consistent support that Lewis and Tolkien had for one another, I wondered if maybe this is the secret to creativity. And I’d like to submit to you that it just might be. That in order for us to thrive as artists, we need a friend to come along side us and say “Your idea isn’t ridiculous, it’s beautiful. You have to do this.” When we are stuck in the moment and all we can see is that obstacle we don’t think we can get past- when all we can hear are the no’s and cannot’s, we need someone to walk up and speak loudly, “Yes, you can. And if you can’t, then we’ll do it together. Because what you have to say is beautiful and what you have to say is needed. This broken world needs the light that you’re bringing into being.” There’s a reason almost every book or CD on the shelf has an acknowledgements section. It doesn’t matter whose name is on the cover, we all know it wasn’t a singular endeavor. We all have someone to thank for helping us finish the work that was started.

Even our Maker did not do His work alone. In the beginning, when God created the heavens, He chose to do it in community with himself. Our trinitarian Lord- the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit- collaborated for the making of his masterpiece. “Come, let us make man in our image.” Minds in one accord with one another planned and plotted together, speaking affirmation after each creation, “Yes, indeed, it is good.” The Almighty created in community, and that should serve a strong lesson for those of us, who are only makers mirroring Him in whose image we were formed. We can never be too good at our craft to walk this journey alone. Community is an essential part of our Creator, and it’s an essential part of us who are made in His image.

So, friend, whatever your obstacle or “plot hole” is at the moment, find someone who’s willing to spend an hour just listening to you. Find someone who sees the beauty is what you’re doing, and who can speak that over you when you’ve lost your sight. Find someone who will let you return the favor. Creativity isn’t meant to be done in solitude; it’s meant to be borrowed and shared and built upon.

So go out and find your Inklings, for we were never meant to create alone. 

 

 

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The Inklings

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Ramblings · Uncategorized · Watercolor

Clive & I

Rebekah EckardLeave a comment

Lewis was the first writer I ever fell in love with. He’s the one who taught me to love theology. He’s the one who showed me the power of a story. And so when I came across this quote in a Hobbit, a Wardrobe, and a Great War, I knew I had to do something with it. There truly is nothing better in the world than sitting around a fire with close friends. Add in s’mores and and twinkling lights, and you’ve found my happy place.

Look for a blog post coming soon on my takeaway from the book, called “Creating in Community” and the second part of my story “A Fortress for Aeda” coming on Saturday! (If you missed the first part, you can read it here).

Lewis Fire.jpgFeel free to download and print Lewis Fire Quote and share it with your friends.

 

 

Aedaliegh of Arceldör · Short Stories · Uncategorized

A Fortress for Aeda

Rebekah Eckard8 Comments

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This is the beginning of a story that’s been forming (consciously) in my heart for over four  years, but I like to think it’s been writing itself for much longer. I didn’t intend to start Aeda’s story at this point in my life. This story deserves a better writer- a kinder one-  a more clever one than myself. So, my plan was to obviously wait until I was older and wiser (so, like 27?) but I can’t really keep it quietly sitting in my heart any longer. But instead of giving you the ever growing 17 page document that currently saved to my desktop, I’ve decided to edit and “publish” it a few pages at a time. For the next 6 (ish) Saturdays, I’ll be posting the next installments of Aeda’s story.

So, today, with much anticipation and excitement in my heart, I bring you…

A Fortress for Aeda, Part 1.

Update: A Fortress for Aeda is currently under construction, but you may find an exert from the story below.

She was sitting on the floor lacing her boots when she heard it: the crack of a tree limb. Her hands stilled as she listened to surrounding forest. Leaves crunched beneath footsteps like war drums growing louder with each new beat. Careful not to make a sound, she stood up and slipped silently across the dirt floor.

Someone was in the forest.

She was found.

She peered out the window and waited for the noisemaker to appear, squatting down low so that only her eyes peered out through the small slits in the wooden shutters. Her fingers brushed against the smooth wood of her bow as she loaded it with an arrow. She took a deep breath in through her nose and exhaled through her mouth.

“Animals know when there is danger around,” he father had told  her the first time he took her hunting. “But if you can control your breathing, they won’t sense anything is wrong.”

A tree branch filled with bright yellow leaves pulled back and a man emerged from the thicket. His deep brown cloak and hunter green tunic made it seem as if he were one with the forest, a small tree who had just decided it would rather stand in the clearing. He crossed his arms and studied the dilapidated cottage, as if considering what might be inside.

This was not the first traveler who had passed by her cottage in the last three years she had lived there. Perhaps if she had met him earlier, she would have thought twice about the signet ring he wore on his right hand or the golden crest pinned on his cloak. But now she only concerned herself with details she thought were necessary: Was he armed? And how could she overcome him? Nothing else mattered.

He wasn’t a particular well built man, rather average. His soft brown beard was well trimmed, and his hair, though well combed, contained spots of grey. This knowledge brought the smallest grin to Aeda’s face. A well groomed beard meant that this man was no woodsman or farmer, but rather a comfortable gentleman. She had defended her cottage against men far bigger and rougher than this man.

He took a step towards her, and she snarled. He could not have come at a more inconvenient time. She had made a rather fine plan to go hunting and chop wood today. She didn’t have the time to be bothered with this stranger. She would scare him off quickly and then she could resume her plans.

“You’ll find no hospitality here,” she called out. “It’d be best if you kept walking to the next village. If you hurry, you can make it there before dark and I won’t have to waste an arrow on you.”

The man halted in the middle of his step and held his hands up in the air.

“You must be Aeda.”

guest posts · Uncategorized

Guest Post #2: Emilee Rogers

Rebekah EckardLeave a comment

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I’ve known Emilee for almost two years now. I met her at an after school program I worked for my first year in Birmingham. I always knew I liked her. She just radiates cool, but in that non-threatening, “I could be friends with her” way. We share a passion for telling kids about Jesus, and as we recently discovered, a passion for writing. Her vulnerability when she writes in truly heartbreaking, but in the best kind of way. When she writes, I feel what she feels. I see the picture she is painting with her words as if I had experienced it myself. And when I read this poem of hers, I knew I had to post it on my blog. While reading it, there were numerous times when I said, “YES! that’s exactly how I felt. that’s exactly what I would do.”And I’m challenged to be just as vulnerable in my writings as she is in hers.

Thanks for being my friend, Em, and for reminding me of the beauty found in opening our hearts and minds to others.

The Big, Tan Couch 

In a small room there’s a big, tan couch
threaded together by people’s secrets
cleaned week after week with their tears.
Painted on the walls are my thoughts.
Why do I think this way?
Why did they hurt me?
Why do I care?
All the why’s and why not’s
woven together week after week
woven in one big, tan couch.
In the pillows are my sobbed confessions.
How many times I’ve thought of ending it all myself.
How many barriers I know I have up.
How many people I wish would just stay.
How much I want it to all just go away.
I always grasp the blanket drape it over my legs and arms.
I subconsciously think it hides me hides me from vulnerability.
I want the thoughts to leave.
I want the questions to stop.
I want the curiosity to end
for peace and quiet to replace it.
I avoid eye contact
at least when I’m crying
I never thought I could cry this much.
My voice croaks and she can’t understand me.
I fight the urge to look at the clock.
I don’t want her to know that I just really want to leave
that sharing this is unbearable and uncomfortable.
I spill my heart week after week, minute by minute.
tick tick tock tock tock tick…still broken.
I seep into that big, tan couch. and blow into the tissues each week.
the couch is where my secrets lay and if it’s up to me,
its where they’ll stay.

Emilee Rogers is a wearer of beanies in the summer, a paper airplane maker, and a recent graduate of Samford University. For more of her writings, visit her blog where she posts way more frequently than I do.

Spoken Word · Uncategorized

Ashes and Dust

Rebekah EckardLeave a comment

Mark Stanley

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I walk towards your altar and stand with my brothers in a line.
Each step bringing us deeper into the chorus.
“Miserere mei, Deus, secundus magnum misericordia tuam“.
Have mercy upon me, O God, after thy great goodness.
In turn, I kneel down before the altar,
bowing my head and mouthing the words along with the Father
“You are but dust and to dust you shall return.”
He takes his thumb and marks my head with ashes
a visual reminder of the truth I now understand.
I have not loved. I have not been patient. I have not spoken truth.
I am but dust, and to dust I shall return.
At this altar, I have been forced to confront my own reflection
and to face the ashes and dirt I have tried too long to hide.

And as I resign myself to a prison of isolation,
I am invited to feast on your own flesh.
But I have seen who I am and the glory that You are.
And I am hesitant to approach you-
to be near one so Holy- so fully other than who I know myself to be
Still like a magnet attracted to it’s opposite,
I am compelled forward towards the altar once again.
Stepping between the ranks of your saints pouring water into my thirsty soul.
“The Lord is full of compassion and mercy: long-suffering and of great goodness.”
Their words are slow to seep in, so they repeat them over and over again.
“The Lord is full of compassion and mercy: long suffering and of great goodness.
“The Lord is full of compassion and mercy: long suffering and of great goodness.
Yes! “The Lord is full of compassion and mercy: long suffering and of great goodness.”
And as they reach their final forte, I fall to my knees
and the mercy I have been withstanding washes into me.
Head bowed and hands open, I can do nothing but receive.
If you are willing Lord, you can make me clean.

Bread is placed in my hands but I dare not look up.
I simply raise what is offered to my starved lips.
“This is the body of Christ broken for you.”
And I eat of it.
The cup is raised to my mouth and I taste of the wine.
“The blood of Christ spilled for you.”
I taste the bittersweet mercy of your broken body
miraculously making me whole.
I feel the blood you shed wash over my ashes
replacing them with new life.
And I stand knowing that I am yours and yours alone.
This wretched sinner whom you have called your own-
No longer made of ashes but an eternal soul.

 

Ramblings · Uncategorized · Watercolor

Valentines!

Rebekah EckardLeave a comment

When I was in fifth grade, I tried to make all my valentine cards by hand. No bueno. This was before the color copies (wether it was or not I have no actual idea, but I know for sure that 10 year old Bekah had never heard of one). 40 Valentine Cards by hand is asking too much.

But I’m happy announce that roughly 15 years later, I finally did it. I made my only Valentines Cards (shout out to Office Max for your overpriced color copies). I’m a Pre-K teacher, so yes, I still celebrate Valentines Day (and Groundhog day, and any Holiday that I can decorate for).

I drew and watercolored this little guy originally, then scanned him into my computer for some more editing. I’m really happy with the whole process. Card-making might just become my next venture. Who knows?

Ramblings · Uncategorized

Reading New Adventures

Rebekah EckardLeave a comment

The Holidays are a magical time for reading. There’s nothing like pulling away from all the parties and curling up with a good book. I usually reread a favorite, maybe one (or five) of the Harry Potter or Narnia books. I still get a little weepy when Harry first sees Hagrid tap on the brick wall and Diagon Alley opens up before him. My heart will always soar when Narnia thinks all is lost in the Battle against the White Witch, but then Aslan comes up over the Hill and descends upon the Valley with thousands of warriors in tow.

However, I challenged myself this summer to find new books to read. Books just as full of all the magic and adventure, and I found several I would like to recommend to you now. Put simply, they’re amazing. And I’d be honored if you would read them this Holiday season. These are in order of my favorites, and all of them and wonderfully appropriate for children (with the exception of the Shiloh series which I would say is geared for teenagers/young adults). Go on a new adventure this year. It’s worth it, I promise.

1.The Wingfeather Saga by Andrew Peterson There are four books total.

The Monster in the Hollows

Start with the first one: On the Edge of the Dark Sea of Darkness. But make me a promise, you’ll read through the first two books before you stop. This series is the one I recommend the friends the most, but they always stop after the first book. And truthfully, the first book reads rather slowly. But somewhere in the second book, Peterson finds his rhythm and it’s become my favorite series. You read that right. The girl with Aslan tattooed on her ankle has a new favorite series.

Without giving too much away, this is the story of 3 siblings who embark upon the adventure of a lifetime to discover who they truly are. It’s truthful, hilarious, and heart-wrenchingly beautiful.

2. The Green Ember by S.D. Smith

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You can find a copy of on Amazon, or at the Author’s blog, the Story Warren

This book is hands down the most charming book I have ever had the pleasure of reading. It follows two small rabbits on the brink of a war as they are forced to choose between the destruction their family helped bring into being or following the True Heir to healing and restoration.

3. Tales of the Kingdom by David and Karen Mains 

Start with the Tales of the Kingdom, the first book in the trilogy. These books are quite different from any other books I’ve read. Each chapter reads like a short story, all of them eventually being woven together to form a complete story line. It’s unapologetically allegorical, the main character’s name being… wait for it… Hero. But the Mains have found a way to retell the Gospel story as a fairytale, and they will not disappoint you.

4. The Shiloh Series by Helena Sorenson 

***Shiloh is actually available for free right now at Amazon if you sue you Kindle Reading App.

Helena Sorenson might be one of my new favorite writers. I discovered her about 10 days ago, and read through her entire series since then. She truly has a way with words. Her creation narrative alone (found in the prologue of Shiloh)  is the most beautiful piece I’ve read in quite some time. Her entire world is based off the Light and Dark imagery, where a Shadow looms over an entire world and the sun hasn’t been seen in so long it is believed to be a myth. The Heroes are unexpected, and the story reminded me that Hope can and must shine in the darkest of moments of my life.

5. The Black Star of Kingston by S.D. Smith

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Black Star is actually a prequel to Smith’s first book The Green Ember that I mentioned earlier. It’s shorter and can be easily read in 3-4 hours. It’s full of pirates and refugees, builders and armies. It’s a 7 year old boys dream (and maybe a 24 year old’s as well). Smith is once again, extremely charming while creating dynamic characters that you will mourn and rejoice alongside. “My place beside you. My blood for yours. Till the Green Ember rises or the end of the World. “

What I’ll be reading this Holiday Season

These books come highly recommended by Helena Sorenson, whose books I just finished reading, and I am so incredibly excited to delve into them as soon as I finish the post.

The Queen’s Thief Series by Megan Walen Turner 

Publishers Weekly describes says of the first book in the Series, The Thief, “I can steal anything.” So declares Gen, the hero of the Newbery Honor Book The Thief—an exciting adventure fantasy set in a mythical land rich with intrigue. Gen’s bragging lands him in prison . . . but then the king’s magus needs the thief’s skill for a near-impossible task: to steal a priceless magical jewel from a faraway land. “In addition to its charismatic hero, this story possesses one of the most valuable treasures of all—a twinkling jewel of a surprise ending.”