Finish the Sentence: One Cool Mama

     It's official! I'm on the Finish The Sentence Friday Blog Hop bandwagon! And guess what? I get to tell you about I time when I felt cool.

     Let me tell you, I spent a lot of this week not feeling cool. I woke up with laryngitis on Tuesday. I spent my 30th birthday unable to talk. I was so lethargic that by yesterday there was literally no room to walk in our small two-bedroom house. And my kids were going crazy having a only-slightly-above-comatose mama.

     And then this morning I felt slightly better. I still lounged quite a bit today, but at least I got the dishes cleaned and the floor vacuumed. And then (after a long nap in the reclining chair) I took the boys to the park. My oldest son Nate wore a black ninja suit, black Darth Vader cape, and homemade mask from one of his homeschool art classes. And as he ran around the playground (literally in circles) I realized, Hey! That's one cool kid!

     Yes, he looked a little silly. Yes, other kids on the playground might have found him strange if their minds were closed enough. But do you know what? He was having fun. It was a bright, gorgeous, sunny day, and we had a great time playing outside.

     And for the first time since I woke up sick this week, I felt like one cool mama.

Random Fact #8: My husband is 14 inches taller than I am.

Thanks to Finish the Sentence Friday Hosts: Kate of Can I Get Another Bottle of Whine…, Janine of Janine’s Confessions of a Mommyaholic, Stephanie of Mommy, for Real and Dawn of Dawn's Disaster! Next week's sentence to finish: "I am very passionate about..."

Inspiration: The Biggest Heroes

     The Thursday's Children blog hop, hosted by Rhiann Wynn-Nolet gives authors a chance to talk about what inspires them. Since my first kids' book, What, No Sushi? was published this week, I'd like to tell you about the inspiration behind it.

     I was in fourth grade or so when I first heard about the Japanese-American internment camps. After Pearl Harbor was bombed in WWII, Americans of Japanese ancestry were forced by government mandate to leave their homes and settle in relocation centers where their activity could be monitored.

     My grandma was a beautiful girl when the internment began. My grandpa was a handsome young man and was eventually drafted into the 442nd, the Japanese-American unit that just happens to be THE most decorated of all American units coming out of World War Two.

     My grandma and grandpa are heroes. But do you know what makes them heroes? It's not the fact that they were poor victims of an unfair law that forced them to leave their homes against their will. It's not the fact that my grandpa was wounded in the war and to this day still receives recognition from the US government for his acts of bravery in combat.

    My grandma and grandpa are heroes because they chose to forgive. "It's just what happens during war." They are not bitter. They are not victims.

     They are victorious.

     I am so proud of my legacy, and there's no way I'm leaving this earth without telling my own kids my grandparents' courageous story. And so I wrote in, in fictionalized form, in What, No Sushi? This isn't a book about my grandma and grandpa. It's a book about an entire generation of Japanese-American heroes that we should all stand up and applaud.

     I can only hope that my legacy shows even a fraction of the bravery, courage, and forgiveness that my grandparents -- and their entire generation -- exemplify, and I hope that others are encouraged by their fictionalized story as recounted in What, No Sushi?

***

Interested in What, No Sushi? Buy your own copy today! (Use this form for US orders. International readers can purchase a copy here.)

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Random Fact #8: Three years ago, I had a bout of laryngitis that lasted for six weeks - an experience I hope I never have to relive.

WIPpet Wednesday: From the Birthday Girl

     Well, first for the really important news: It's my birthday! And do you know what would make me really, really happy today as I turn 30? TONS of book sales!! (wink, wink...)

     As far as my 80-day writing goals are concerned, I've met all but two of them. The Beloved Daughter is now a Kindle ebook as well as a paperback. My second round of edits for book 2 in my time-travel/historical fiction series for kids are with my publisher right now. And my virtual book tour is coming along swimmingly! All I need to do now is find a few more homeschool blogs to review my newly-released What, No Sushi? (which arrived just yesterday) and keep up with Saving Natalie, which I'm doing right here for WIPpet Wednesday. Then it's on to my 80-day get-a-life goals. (Yeah, I'll let you know how that goes...)

     You might remember that last week Jake was waiting to meet his newborn daughter for the first time. Here are the next 17 sentences in the opening pages of Saving Natalie.

***


It was Jessica’s mom. Rhonda fidgeted with her smartphone and walked straight past Jake. Jessica’s father paused long enough to extend his hand. “Congratulations.” Rhonda stopped several feet in front of her husband, tapping her screen with flamingo-pink fingernails.

Jake wondered what to say. “How is she?”

“She’s doing fine.” Jessica’s father only came up to Jake’s shoulder. Both men shuffled their weight from one foot to the other. “Tired, of course, but the doctor said she should have a pretty easy recovery.”

Jake had actually been asking about the baby.

Rhonda cleared her throat and swept her brown hair over her shoulder like some middle-aged runway model. “Mark, we’d better get on the road. It’s pretty ugly out there. If we leave now you still might make the meeting tonight.”

“I better go,” Mark mumbled and scurried to keep up with his wife.

***

Click to Tweet: Congrats @aboynamedsilas, Women of Faith writing contest winner.

Random Fact #7: I assisted with my first autopsy when I was only 16 years old.

Go WIPpets! If you want to join the WIPpet fun, just give us an excerpt from your current Work In Progress that has something to do with today's date (like 17 sentences on April 17). Then link up below or at myrandommuse.wordpress.com.

A Boy Named Silas: A Bigger Blog

This boy shines!

     In case you didn't know, Lightly Salted is actually my second blog. My blogging adventure really began years ago when I started chronicling the story of my son Silas' traumatic birth experience. As a baby, Silas required constant throat-suctioning and was on an eight-times-a-day feeding tube schedule. He had four or five medical appointments a week. Needless to say, I didn't have time to be anything else except for a special-needs mama back then.

     Now Silas is a hilarious, engaging five year-old. He still has some remnant swallowing issues but now gets nearly half of his calories by mouth. Some people have asked us if that means he's about to outgrow his feeding tube. I'm too scared to put that in print yet. Let's just say I now have more hope than ever before in that possibility.

     A few months ago, Silas found the mesh feeding bag we used to put bites of food in. (This was before Silas was allowed to eat anything by mouth at all.) He hasn't used it in about half a year. Silas picked it up out of the drawer and said, "I don't need this anymore." And with that, he threw it in the trash.

     It doesn't take a psych student to recognize the symbolism in Silas' actions.

     So here's another symbol for those of you with a literary or psychological bent. Over the next few weeks, I plan to slowly transition away from my exclusive blog just for Silas. I'll still post about him, and still connect with my special-needs blogging friends, but I'll be doing most of that from right here, at Lightly Salted, from now on.

     When Silas threw out his feeding tube, he was making a statement. He was telling me that he's no longer a little boy who needs a mesh bag to "eat" like the rest of the world. I guess I'm now making a statement of my own. I'm not just a special-needs mama anymore. I need a blog big enough to fit all of my other interests as well. If you want to join me on my journey, I'd love your company. If you're on Twitter let's hook up there too! I'll be keeping the same handle, @aboynamedsilas, to remember that it was my son's amazing story that first ushered me into the world of blogging and helped me connect with so many amazing friends out there in virtual reality.

Want to read Silas' full story? Get the Boy Named Silas ebook, or feel free to browse around the Boy Named Silas blog.

Random Fact #6: Silas isn't even an official kindergartner, but he knows at 50 states and capitals!

Gently Humorous: I'm So Embarrassed

This post appears in Christian Home Magazine. Check it out!

     It's pretty embarrassing the things my kids have learned from me.

     I never thought I was overly conscious of my weight until I saw my four year old stand sideways in front of the mirror, pick up his shirt, and stare at his tummy for a full minute and a half.

What's up with this picture?

     I never realized how often I pick my toddler's nose until Thomas picked my nose one day. Even worse, Thomas then wiped some imaginary buggers off onto my shoulder.

     I think kids are bred to pick up on some of our most embarrassing traits. I also think children are born with an inherited embarrass-their-parents gene. This gene definitely acted up the day we passed the intimates aisle in Walmart and my two year old started shouting, "Breasts!" This is the same boy who was recently sitting on my friend's lap and asked her (with perfect diction), "Where are your nipples?"

     Sometimes my boys embarrass me without doing anything at all. In fact, the embarrassment comes from something I forgot to do to them. Like the time one of my babies had a leak at church and I realized I never put a diaper on him that morning. Or the time I took my son Silas to one of his therapy appointments and his therapist found a lolipop stuck in his hair. (He hadn't had a lolipop since his last therapy appointment three days earlier.) In my defense, Silas had a full head full of curly hair at the time, but still... three days?

     Thankfully, I've never been so embarrassed by something one of my boys has done that I want to disassociate from him completely. I'm sure the time may come when crazy hair-styles, wild behavior, or simply teenaged angst may visit our home and make me wish I didn't have to be known as my boys' mother. But hopefully those moments will be few and far between, and covered with an extra-large helping of grace and humor.
  
     Unfortunately, there have been times in my life when I've been embarrassed of my faith, so much so that I wished people didn't know I was a Christian. There was that time when a girl in my high school chewed me out in front of our entire math class for leaving a note in her locker telling her about Jesus. There was that time when my son really wanted to tell one of Silas' medical care providers about salvation, and I hemmed and hawed and turned beet red when he told her that going to church doesn't make somebody a Christian. There was that time when I tried out a new mom's group and listened to two ladies talk about the stupid and insensitive behavior of Christians without voicing a single counter argument.

     I've been known to be vocal about my faith at times. And I've been ashamed at how shy I've become at others. I hate to think my actions show that I'm actually embarrassed of my Savior.

     I just hope He never becomes embarrassed by me.

What about you? Do you have any funny embarrassing stories to share? Or maybe a serious account of how you are or aren't embarrassed to share your faith?

Random Fact #5: I'm about to turn 30 years old, and next weekend I'll be going to my first prom. (I'll be one of the chaperones, but I do have a hot date!)



    

WIPpet Wednesday and ROW80: "First Time"

     Before my WIP, a quick update on my ROW80 writing goals: I've already gotten my editor's comments back from book 2 in My Solar-Powered History series. (Book 1, What, No Sushi? is the time-travel/historical fiction book set in a Japanese-American internment camp you may remember from previous WIPs.) And I'm making headway in planning my blog tour for The Beloved Daughter, although I've been writing answers to so many interviews I've actually been typing answers to questions in my sleep!

See my Amazon page!

     Another goal is to work some on my next novel, Saving Natalie. I figure at the very least I can touch up a few paragraphs for WIPpet Wednesday, so in honor of April 10, I give you the first ten sentences of Saving Natalie, as they currently stand. (Funny bit of trivia: I wrote the first draft of Saving Natalie five years ago, before I even knew what Facebook or iPhones were. Needless to say, I've had to modernize the opening paragraphs.)

***

     Jake sat alone in the lobby, thumbing a pregnancy magazine filled with pictures of bronze athletic mamas-to-be. Once he got to the last glossy page, Jake pulled out his iPhone and scrolled through his contacts. There wasn’t anybody to text. His mother would see the Facebook pictures soon enough. If they ever late Jake into the delivery room, that is.

     Jake tried to imagine what it would be like to meet Natalie for the first time. How much longer were Jessica’s parents going to take?

     Jake watched the snow fall outside the lobby window and wondered if his own father had been this anxious when he was born. If his father had even showed up at the hospital.
          Nervouseness might have turned to bitterness if Jake had more time, but his thoughts were interrupted by high heels clicking on bleached linoleum. It was Jessica's mom.

***

Random Fact #4: I'm short. Shorter than any other adult woman I know, including both of my grandmas.

To link up for WIPpet Wednesdays, give us a peak at your current work in progress that something to do with today's date. Then link up here or at My Random Muse.


 

Are Your Heroines Wimpy?

What's up with this photo?

This post appears in the Christian Home Magazine. Check it out!

     I was introduced to Christian fiction when I read the Zion Chronicles series by Bodie Theone in high school. I went on to read Francine Rivers, Randy Alcorn, and others.

     I guess I was a little bit spoiled because the first several Christian books I read boasted strong characters, plenty of drama, and beautifully redemptive plots. Since my glory-days of high school Christian reading, however, I've picked up several books that have left me feeling, well, a little bit like I felt in my first trimester when my husband was cooking steaks in the kitchen.

     Seriously, I can't tell you how many times I've read books about contemporary Christian heroines who are wiping tears off their cheeks on every other page of their stories. Now, I'm all about tear-jerkers. (In fact, the lady who proof-read my recent Christian novel had to take several extra days because the story had her crying too much to check for typos during her first read-through.) But don't you think that your heroine could find something else to do besides cry? I've been known to choke up a little bit during particularly touching Adventures in Odyssey episodes, but I don't go around sobbing whenever I experience any strong emotion, be that joy, sorrow, embarrassment, etc.

     I don't faint, either, by the way. I feel dizzy when I stand up after soaking in a scalding-hot tub. That's all. But I've read book after book with weak-kneed Christian heroines who can't even remain vertical when they're faced with harsh realities. I've never fainted from bad news, but I did throw up when the nurses told me my newborn son was without a pulse. I wonder why don't heroines in books ever barf during trauma?* It seems a little more realistic, at least based on my own experiences. (Baby Silas survived, by the way, and is now a happy-go-lucky five year old who gives me at least ten minutes of side-splitting abs workouts a day with all of his jokes and silly antics.)

     When I open up my Bible, I don't read about wimpy heroines who cry and faint whenever things get hard. I read about strong-stomached women like Jael who hammers a tent peg through her enemy's skull. I read about strong-hearted women like Naomi who survives in spite of numerous tragedies, including widowhood, displacement, and famine. I read about strong-headed women like Abigail who circumvents her husband to save her entire family from the wrath of David's mighty men. I read about strong-kneed women like Mary who delivers baby Jesus in a stable almost a hundred miles from home.

     I always chuckle at people who claim the Bible is demeaning to women. Maybe they need to take a closer look at how strong these Biblical heroines really are. I doubt Ruth went around fainting whenever Boaz passed her by in the barley fields. And we have no indication that Esther turned on her water faucets when pleading with King Xerxes for deliverance for the Jews.

     Whether you're a writer, a reader, or just a daughter of the King, I hope you are encouraged when you look at the strong believing women God gives us in the Bible as examples.

     And I hope you pass your day without any fainting spells.

What about you? Have you read any books lately with weak-willed heroines? Or do you have any favorite women in the Bible who exemplify feminine strength and dignity (sans the tears)?

Random Fact #3: I have never had a brain freeze in my life.

[*Bloggers note: I recently picked up "First of Her Kind," a fantasy novel by my friend K. L. Schwengel, and am happy to report that her heroine does in fact throw up after a particularly dangerous and traumatizing scene. 4/17/13]