Rest

Posted on March 14, 2016 by sherryrossman

Last week was Spring Break and it was anything but restful. Of all the weeks to be pressed to work a little harder to meet deadlines, it had to be the week my kids were free from their own. Exhausted before I had finished, I packed my kids in the car and we headed to my mom’s place where WiFi doesn’t exist and acres of land spread before us. My kids ran like rabbits on sugar and I pulled a chair under the sun to soak up some light.

It was a nice beak, but not quite enough. We headed back home and I dug into work again. While preparing for my writers group, I found an old blog that showed me what I had been missing.

It wasn’t the blog itself, but the photos. This is one of our trees. Resting.

Wintertime is when creation pulls in its blooms for a nap. The creatures nestle inside their burrows, even the colors fade into sleep until spring.

When the land has rested, it blooms again. It doesn’t run itself ragged like we do, feeling guilt from the smallest of breaks. It’s so easy to go and go until we burn out and then go some more.

Creation goes until its flame is the most beautiful. And then it rests a while.

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By the time it’s ready to go again, it lacks nothing. Its even able to give shade to those who may need it.

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And it becomes so renewed, it reflects the joy of others that surround it.

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Pouring your best work into the world requires seasons of rest. Have a blessed week.

A Heroe’s Walk

Posted on March 7, 2016 by sherryrossman

It seems the more I walk through life and observe others with their daily toil, the more I realize that Struggle is more of a faithful companion than Comfort. Struggle doesn’t bat an eyelash at a fat pocketbook, or a slim one. It doesn’t care if it haunts a beautiful person or an average Joe, and it certainly doesn’t leave a person alone if they’re considered good. The only hope for a person battling Struggle is what you allow it to do to you.

Like everyone, I get so dang tired of the hard seasons. They become blisters on my already battle weary feet. Those days start with a headache, and get met with temper tantrums, or the gas gauge on empty and bad news from some front–a failed project. I think maybe I’m not made for this. Maybe my efforts are no more beneficial than the smoke at the end of someone’s cigarette.

That’s what Struggle would have us believe. That’s how Struggle is able to invite Despair over to party on your heart.

And this can go on for months. Years.

But when I’m in a season of rest, I look around me with a writer’s point of view. I see some of the young moms I know with vans full of babies—there’s nothing more precious than having a child, but that blessing paints itself in both joy and deep, dark circles underneath the eyes of moms that go without sleep for days. You’d think they’d been slapped with war paint. Add illness or financial hardship in with this and a parent’s feet can drag so hard they might welcome the earth swallowing them up if only to get some relief.

I know the reality of having not much more than a few pennies in my pocket to get through a week of groceries and pain relief for the stress headache that comes with it. If that’s you right now, know that God will never let you starve if you belong to Him. Keep stepping forward, arms working steady, hearts pointed toward hope—you won’t sink if you keep your eyes focused firmly on Him.

Just like a writer has no hero for their book unless they take them through an agonizing amount of conflict, we can’t finish our hero walk unless we go through our own fire. We’re nothing but smoke in the wind without it. So keep going forward.

Keep going forward.
Your story will be remembered as one of the greats—not despite your rough seasons—but because of your perseverance through them. This is an inheritance you can pass on that’s worth more than a trust fund, or a prestigious family name. It’s a story of hope for your children.

A Renaissance Life

Posted on February 29, 2016 by sherryrossman

The past few weeks have been about introducing our kids to culture at its best.

First, while Noah recovered from Pneumonia, I took Chloe to a few art galleries in downtown Prescott. We saw a lot of beautiful work, but we had two things to add to our Awesome List.

1. Years ago, we added to our personal art collection a print of an old man in the desert, holding a cat. Something about it just caught me when I bought it–well, we got to meet the artist, and tell him how much we’ve enjoyed his bit of story on our wall. Even though art is a career, it’s also personal; brave. So complimenting an artist on their work is to thank them for sharing part of their life with us.

2. Chloe discovered a whole new world when she saw a horse sculpture welded together from springs, knives, and various scraps of metal. Together, these bits and pieces made a breathtaking piece of art. It was a good reminder that we can take whatever we’re allotted in life and make something beautiful from it.

After Noah recovered enough to get out, we went to the Renaissance Festival. We basked in a day of mermaids, knights, and turkey legs. Besides watching my kid’s delighted faces, my favorite part was when an old man–had to be in his eighties–shuffled by us with his walker–and brand new set of elf ears.

Now that’s a man who has learned how to enjoy his life.

I hope you enjoyed your weekend too. I’ll see you next Monday!

The Border of Courage

Posted on February 15, 2016 by sherryrossman

There was a girl in my high school who attended parties in the name of guard duty. She would watch over her bestie in case a guy tried to take advantage of her after consuming too much alcohol, or something.

She was ever glossed in cherry pink lips, charming, flirtatious. Churched.

At the time, I thought those girls were weak. Stupid. The one girl for knowingly (continuously) putting herself in dangerous situations—the other for trying to fit in with the crowd in the name of protection.

What a bad example, I thought, discussing life with my friends under shade of tree and good reputation. She’s certainly crossed the line from Christian to compromise.

My own faith walk looked a lot different—for different reasons—but now that I’ve walked a little farther and read and re-read about Jesus’ life, I get it. Living in comfort is safe, but that’s all.

Jesus crossed the boundaries all the time. He never joined people in their sin, but he still joined the people. The religious of the day had set up boundaries—cross a certain line and your reputation will be ruined. Jesus didn’t even glance at those lines. He dined with tax collectors and sinners. On their own turf, Jesus shared His love knowing it would ruin his reputation with the religious elite.

When Jesus reached the spot, he looked up and said to him, “Zacchaeus, come down immediately. I must stay at your house today.” So he came down at once and welcomed him gladly.
All the people saw this and began to mutter, “He has gone to be the guest of a sinner.” Luke 19:5-7.

Did they ever once consider Zacchaeus?

Now, I don’t know what went on at those parties with the two friends—I didn’t bother to cross that line—but now I know better than to assume the watchdog of the two had bad intentions. And as for the girl who drank too much and somethinged—she’s exactly the kind of people Jesus would have made his friend. Or perhaps she just needed a reminder of her worth.

Anyway, I guess I write this because I recognize a dangerous trend. Not everyone will be called to cross the boundary lines, but the ones that do don’t need fellow believers (of all people) to assume the worst. We all know how that went down for Jesus. He succeeded in His mission, but not without enduring extreme pain from those who should have known better.

Consider what God calls you to do. You don’t need to be safe if He’s with you. You don’t need the opinion’s of the crowd. You just need a brave set of feet.

Sleep and Wake

Posted on February 1, 2016 by sherryrossman

My daughter’s blanky is a “she.” After receiving countless blankets as baby gifts, we found purple blanky when none of the others were the right size for swaddling. The others were either too big or not long enough to tuck Chloe into a snugly burrito—the only thing that soothed her during the colicky months.

As Chloe grew into a toddler, purple blanky had to be turned fuzzy side down for her to sleep. When she outgrew “her,” Chloe would wad her up like a baby and hold her as she slept. On the darker nights, nights when the boogey man still exists, she still needs purple blanky to hide under. In fact, I often find her asleep with purple blanky spread across her torso like she’s sleeping underneath a hanky. But just the same, purple blanky is always there. As I write this, purple blanky drapes across Chloe’s waist as she struggles through a tummy bug.

The grown-up blanky is a “He.” We can’t really wad Him up, or lay Him fuzzy side down, but we can’t outgrow Him. When our nights are darker than normal, He covers us entirely, fears and all.

When the monsters my kids don’t know about yet try to convince me that He isn’t real, or that He can’t cover me in protection, I just pull Him closer and rest under His strength. He fits me, no matter what size or what season I’m in.

Too often, we forget we are always covered in God’s love, no matter what. Go into this Monday with courage. He’s got you covered.

This moment, I’m clutching Him tight, wondering how people will receive my newest book. Today is launch day for Wake.

If you would be interested in a review copy, let me know at srossbooks@gmail.com. It’s already approved by Readers’ Favorite.

Amazon.

Never Mind the Haters

Posted on January 25, 2016 by sherryrossman

Good Monday, friends. In actuality, I’m on Garfield’s team when it comes to Mondays, but I have to note three Awesome things about this day:

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1. I get three hours to myself.
2. The sun is out.
3. While walking this morning, my dog did not try assassinating any other dogs.

Finally, I have a giant stack of books on my bedside table. This makes me immensely happy. But, If you’re an avid book reader like me, you’ve probably experienced criticism from reading-deprived persons. You’ve probably been laughed at, called a nerd, accused of being lazy and all sorts of unpleasant comments/treatment, but as we know, books change the world (for a list of some examples, go here).
Story is powerful–Jesus told stories that rocked the world, so there you go, the ultimate authority has, forevermore, made books awesome. And not nerdy.

If you’ve read my blog for any length of time, you know that I don’t believe in perpetually staying within the lines. Oh yes, me and my crayons explore the world of color inside and outside of “the rules.”

Do you want to know the truth? Why not? Telling the truth is biblical, right? I don’t have an agent to reign me in, so here it is: I don’t like having to market my books. I love writing, I love people, I love blogging and readers and interacting with readers, but I don’t like following the endless list of do’s and don’ts of marketing. To tell you the truth (and I know of some other authors who agree with me), it feels like self-worship. I don’t worship me. They say don’t make homemade book trailers, in fact, book trailers don’t sell books. Like, at all. But you know what? I’m visual. I like book trailers, and I know from experience that they don’t sell books, but I make them anyway because I like the process and winging around ideas in abstract, maybe even absurd ways. So maybe I wasted several hours making one…but I made one anyway. It’s fun and I enjoyed it.

Watch this (if you want to) without a shred of pressure. And tell us how you break the rules. Tell me I’m not swimming alone out here with my crayons and camera. =)

GO HERE.

The Dark Side of Editing

Posted on January 18, 2016 by sherryrossman

Good editing is key to a polished book, but on occasion, a manuscript can be edited so much that it loses the intended message. When the focus shifts from story to higher sales, it becomes nothing more than another product. Many products built on the root of greed saturate our lives.

As my husband explained to our kids why today is a celebration, not just another day off school, he emphasized that Martin Luther King Jr. got his inspiration from God—another thing edited out by most schools. Our history is being reshaped into a product line of lies–it’s important to us that our kids know the true story.

Like so many things, the truth of God has been edited and rewritten to produce false ideas that saturate our culture. Christianity, aka the gospel movement, has been labeled a hate group. And although Jesus instructs us to love one another, His message has been largely misinterpreted by a world doused in half-truths. A world that hasn’t sat down to read His entire book. Even many believers don’t take the time to read His whole story, and in ignorance, state that we must all change along with society. God, knowing where the direction of our culture would go prepared an answer in advance:

Jesus Christ is the same yesterday and today and forever. Hebrews 13:8

Now, usually the response to this would be something about the Bible being edited by countless generations, but we forget one thing: God is always prepared. If God is really God, He will find a way to preserve His word. He even gives us a guarantee:

All Scripture is God-breathed and is useful for teaching, rebuking, correcting and training in righteousness…2 Timothy 3:16. Here’s an article that goes into more detail.

What do you think readers? What is it that makes you trust your sources?

Christmas Love

Posted on December 21, 2015 by sherryrossman

My Grandparents had a simple little house, with sparse decoration and healthy accents of clutter. I think Grandma must have grown up with too little, because she often washed our clothes as soon as we stepped in the door as if they were our only outfits. We hung out in my Grandpa’s t-shirts until the house smelled of downy softness, and our clothes were ready for another day of play. That’s what we did mostly—ran around their expansive yard all day. That is where their wealth was. In the roses that smelled better than any perfume, on the swing placed in the shade of a giant cottonwood tree, and in the rows of vegetables—I can still taste those homegrown tomatoes, spilling down my chin and sliding into my stomach, forever spoiling me for garden freshness.

When we came inside for lunch, we were usually served something like ramen noodles. I thought it was the best meal ever. We ate over a basic laminate table, next to the glass doors where we could see their beautiful yard. There were usually a few piles of mail and Parade magazines strewn about the living room. I can’t pick up a newspaper today without thinking of those piles with the summer light washing them in home-style glory.

Mostly what I remember is the smell of laundry detergent and a whole lotta love. There was never a house redecoration, or new clothes for my grandparents—no brand names haunted them—only ghosts of the Great Depression dressed as frugality. Although they could have lived a little richer, Their values were of family and the spirit of God. No matter what I did, what I said or didn’t say, I always knew I was good enough for my grandparents.

This is the spirit of Christmas. It’s a reflection of Love coming into a dark world haunted by the things that hurt and the things that hide in piles not dealt with. But there’s a light coming in, washing all of us in home-style glory, because no matter how broken we are, no matter how much we mess up, there’s a Savior loving us anyway.

Wake up to the Art Revolution

Posted on November 23, 2015 by sherryrossman

My maiden name is Darwin. Before I married, there was a two year season where cashiers everywhere exploded in curiosity—my debit card said I was a Darwin, yet a cross necklace hung around my neck.

“Are you related to Charles Darwin?” (Yes, indirectly)

“Did he really disprove his theories?” (I don’t think so, but he was aware his theories were unproven ideas as opposed to the stance of our modern educational system)

One of my acquaintances criticized my decision to write Christian Science Fiction. Baffled, I asked, “Why?”

“Because science and Christianity don’t mix”, he said.

I was happy to inform him that The Bible not only contained science, but his statement was a shockingly unsound stereotype.

Lesson number one: don’t be afraid to do your own research.

Despite the fact that some religions such as Christianity are quickly becoming taboo and misunderstood, people still search for the God of miracles. No matter how illegal, unpopular, hated, and stereotyped He becomes, there will always be longings within the deepest parts of us that will cry out for answers far beyond our knowledge. This is not ignorance–it’s a journey toward the extraordinary. One of the most powerful expressions of this journey is the arts—paintings, music, literature–those things that speak beyond the questions we don’t have answers for.

Picasso expressed his heart well in The Geurnica–his reaction to the devastation of the Basque town of Guernica when the Nazi’s targeted it for bombing practice during the Spanish Civil war.

I wouldn’t hang it on my wall, but I can certainly feel the anguish. I can read about the incident in the history books, but with Picasso’s painting, I get it.

Giacomo Cavedone shows us Stephan, the first man killed for following Christ. Here is the martyr’s last recorded moment:

⁵⁴When the members of the Sanhedrin heard this, they were furious and gnashed their teeth at him. ⁵⁵But Stephen, full of the Holy Spirit, looked up to heaven and saw the glory of God, and Jesus standing at the right hand of God. ⁵⁶“Look,” he said, “I see heaven open and the Son of Man standing at the right hand of God.”

⁵⁷At this they covered their ears and, yelling at the top of their voices, they all rushed at him, ⁵⁸dragged him out of the city and began to stone him. Meanwhile, the witnesses laid their coats at the feet of a young man named Saul.

⁵⁹While they were stoning him, Stephen prayed, “Lord Jesus, receive my spirit.” ⁶⁰Then he fell on his knees and cried out, “Lord, do not hold this sin against them.” When he had said this, he fell asleep. Acts 7:54-70

A man willing to die for Christ is a man who knows Christ. In his last moment, Stephan was able to exist here and beyond simultaneously. That’s a powerful bit of history I would hang on my wall. Waking up each day with a visual reminder that beyond is close enough to touch would make my steps a lot more purposeful.

But art can be dangerously powerful against those wishing to silence a people. What would happen if religion was outlawed? And then the expressive arts, because it encouraged rebellion? Sooner or later, history might “lose” documentation that would encourage people to rebel against these laws.

We would fall into forced ignorance…

But what would God do?

What if God decided to show a boxed in world how uncontainable He was? Who would He raise up to peel open the door to heaven?

What do you think would happen?

This is a story I’ll be bringing to you in my soon-to-be-released book, Wake, brought to you by the newly formed Darwin House Press. If you have any of your own theories, feel welcome to share them in the comments.

Snow and Fashion

Posted on November 16, 2015 by sherryrossman

It’s a Snow Day. As you can see, there’s not much on the ground, but it’s Arizona. So school was delayed, my blog was delayed, and well…I’m going to have a guilt-free week off.

But before you go, who likes t-shirts? Who likes symbolic t-shirts? Rook Publishing (Faith Seekers) set this up on Zazzle. Go take a look, and have a GREAT week- before-Thanksgiving week!

P.S. This is my favorite:

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