“After the tragic death of her husband, timid Melody Jamison moves to the city of Saskatoon, hoping for a peaceful life, an escape from the nightmares that haunt her, and the safety and salvation of her son, Will.
However, Will is determined to prove he doesn’t need anyone, and God isn’t even a blip on his radar. He’s doing just fine, if you don’t count the times he’s had to crash at a friend’s or sleep in a downtown Vancouver alley. He’s not deliberately messing up; trouble just seems to follow him. But he’s strong enough to deal with it. He can deal with anything—at least that’s what he wants to believe.
Melody keeps praying, even though she’s not sure God hears her. With her faith as fragile as yesterday’s dream, she is shaken when dying friend Rose Martens predicts that God will use her to be a blessing to their neighborhood. As she gets to know her new neighbors, Melody finds herself on a faith journey through demonic attacks, domestic violence, and the revelation of a secret that could destroy everything she’s gained.”
I was surprised to learn this was Kathleen Friesen’s first book because she penned a captivating story that had my attention right away. I could feel the fear and transition in Melody as she is a widow trying to find her way. The anxiety was palpable, I really felt for Melody as if she were real.
I also enjoyed the other characters. They have purpose and are not superficial. More than anything, Melody’s Song has an affirming message on the power of prayer. No matter what your faith level, I believe you too will be drawn in and encouraged by this sweet story.
To purchase Melody’s Song, click here.
I received a copy of Melody’s Song in exchange for an honest review.
All this week I’ve been sharing my posts from the recent Facebook Love Your Spouse Challenge. My prayer is I encourage you with a realistic look at marriage. That you can choose oneness and isolation and beat the odds. I believe in you!
LOVE YOUR SPOUSE CHALLENGE, Day 5
This picture is from a cruise we took to Mexico to celebrate our 15th anniversary. From infertility to nearly losing a child to death of a parent and lots of transition, we had overcome so much that should have divided us. Anything we learned came from the FamilyLife Marriage Conference, something we attended as an engaged couple. The biggest principle we still work to apply is to choose oneness. Any relationship has two choices—isolation or oneness. Marriage has to operate in oneness. This was a celebration trip for sure.
Don’t Miss out! Click below to learn more about my Goodreads Giveaway.
Did you know I’m one of the bloggers over at Christians Read? Vicki Hinze, Maureen Lang, Elizabeth Goddard, James L. Rubart, Hannah Alexander, Kathi Macias, Lynette Sowell, Sarah Goebel, Kristen Heitzmann and Yvonne Lehman are part of the Christians Read team. I blog opposite Maureen on Wednesdays.
This week I shared what I found to be true for me in writing while I was moving.
Can you relate?
Read on to find out.
I’m going back to unpack more boxes.
It wasn’t that people didn’t offer.
“How can I help?”
“Do you want me to come over and unpack with you?”
And it wasn’t that I was too stubborn to say yes.
I turned down a lot of help because of this—
I wanted to do it my way.
I’m not Martha Stewart but I like to have organization.
I haven’t moved a lot, but when I did, there was an anxiety that was hard to shake.
The loving people who came to help who asked, “Where do you want this?” “Where does this go?”
I felt like I’d turn and someone was waiting on me. I absolutely come apart with that kind of pressure.
So, I’d ask what they thought. There was so much wisdom there.
I didn’t feel like I owned the process.
Nor did I feel like it was my kitchen.
But this time around, I unpacked each box and decided where things went on my terms. No pressure. No explaining why I went with this cupboard instead of that one. I might have made some foolish choices.
Yet, they were mine to make.
I’m tired and sore, but I’m pretty excited. I know where things are. I like their location.
And the best thing of all—it makes sense to me.
Do you like to be organized? Do you want help getting to that organized place, or like a toddler or me, do it yourself?
In the midst of packing my husband shared a revelation.
The day we move to the house we believe is the last one for us is ten years to the day we moved to Ohio.
Some days it feels like yesterday, and others, 100 years.
I know this much—when my husband approached me over a year ago asking me to consider praying about moving, I was absolutely dead set against it. It took months of him talking to me and my praying to move my mind. It truly is a God thing the entire way because if it were up to me, I’d be rocking in a corner and ignoring what I know we were meant to do.
Why was I so against it?
My mind remains traumatized by the last move and to me, any subsequent move would be just like that. The circumstances and grief surrounding the last one were so profound I still think my body threw itself into perimenopause at 37.
It wasn’t a fun time.
And who in their right mind would want to go through that again?
My husband reminded me this isn’t 2004. He hasn’t moved 300 miles away for a new job while I’m with young children, one who is chronically ill. Our family is healthy and not going through loss.
In fact, he assured me the teen and tween we have can pack boxes. So can he. We’d be in the same state, same city, even the same house.
So we moved forward. Started packing in faith. Found the agent. Started looking at homes. It did feel different. I can do this, I thought.
But then summer came. Delays. A deal gone south. Back to square one. Stress. Surprises. Work schedules so insane we don’t seem to be in the same house anymore. Or the same city. Or the same state.
I was packing a box and felt the familiar pang of grief. I missed my Dad. I was lonely.
And it hit me.
This move isn’t like the last one. A decade ago I sat on my bed just looking outside wondering how I ended up in Ohio. This feels like redemption. A new chapter. Fulfilling purpose for this new thing.
As I cried I knew what I was feeling overall was apples and oranges.
But as I missed my dad, dreaded the calls I knew would come between my husband, agents, loan officers, buyers, sellers, renters and everyone inbetween, couldn’t sleep, was sick of packing boxes I cried remembering past tears.
And for just a moment—the first move—where my world was crashing and everything changed—and this one—where a new chapter begins and God answered as faithfully as the first one—seemed close enough to warrant tears.
And a package of cookies.