As a partner with Sheaf House Publishing, you might consider me reviewing the books by our authors a little self-serving. For me, it’s honestly about sharing my belief in these authors and their books. Do I want to sell them? Absolutely. Do I benefit from those sales? Yes. Please don’t stop there – go ahead and ask me why we publish them.

Let’s pretend I heard you ask me that question about Michelle Sutton’s latest release, It’s Not About Him – book 2 in her A Second Glance Series.

These books were contracted before I came into the company. If you think that’s some kind of disclaimer – think again. Even before I signed on, I was a fan or Michelle’s writing.

Michelle’s writing is intense, her characters real, and their struggles are honest.

When I started reading It’s Not About Him, I had a little bit of an idea about the plot. What I didn’t know was how it was going to open an old wound or that it was going to be part of what God used to tell me it was time to write the sequel to Rain Dance.

It’s Not About Him catches readers up with Susie and Jeff from book one. I wasn’t extremely fond of Susie in book one, in fact she annoyed me. Book two took me into her heart so I could see the fears and hurts that hurled her toward destruction.

Let me ask you something . . . when a young woman gets pregnant out of wed-lock, how often do we see it as a good thing? Oh we tend to be thankful she didn’t have an abortion, but are we glad for the life being knit together in her womb or are we tolerant of that life?

Perhaps it’s my permanently childless condition, but I see these tiny lives as part of God’s mysterious plan and sometimes I’m free to celebrate these little ones in public and others I keep my joy to myself.

As in this book, I’ve seen unborn babies in their single mother’s wombs dramatically change lives for the greater good long before they’re born.

I’d really like to know what you think. Email me privately if you’d like at joydekok@pitel.net or comment here.

Okay – so maybe it’s not all about me, and yet, this book opened an old wound in my heart and I think I’m finally ready to share it. It’s Not About Him tackles open adoption in a lovely and real to life way. While I like the way Sutton handles it, I found myself whispering to the author as I read the book, “It doesn’t always happen this way.” As a professional Social Worker, the Michelle knows this. The way it works in this novel is the way her story was meant to be written. It fits and I like the way she shows the tension on both the part of the birth mother and the adoptive couple.

It’s just that  . . . well, it didn’t go that way for Jon and I. In the next two blog posts, I will share how I was “an almost mom” twice and nearly a third.

Michelle is one of the authors I represent at Sheaf House. She is also becoming a friend. I haven’t told her this part of my life yet so she had no way of knowing the struggle her novel would cause in my life. I thought I was past these things.

I guess not.

Michelle’s book could not have impacted me this way if she wasn’t an excellent author and if God wasn’t at work preparing me for my next project.

So, is this entry about Michelle’s book or me?

Mostly me.

However, here is my personal review of this book.

Michelle Sutton is unafraid to go where her characters take her. In It’s Not About Him, she once again shares the push me pull you saga lived out in their lives as they seek to balance purity with their desires for intimacy. Christian young people resist because of their faith. Sometimes they succeed, and sometimes they don’t. Sounds like the lives of the kids I know and love. Sounds like all of us.

Is the book only about sex? No. It is in fact, a book about overtly Christian young adults – their faith, their desires, and the consequences their decisions leave them with.

Michelle shows that no matter what our life issue is, while we sometimes fail, God does not.

Michelle and I have learned a lot while marketing her work. One of these is the fact that readers 30 and over are faster to focus on the sex while readers from 19 to 29 are far more likely to focus on the faith in the book and applaud it. We believe there are a lot of reasons for this including but not limited to:

Sex is a big deal to young people and it is not a big deal to them. Here’s what I mean – it’s a big part of their thought life and yet, it’s all around them – in advertising, in their friendships, in the media, etc. so – it’s not really that big a deal. Ask them. It seems contradictory at first – then not.

Another reason I believe is that young adults are far more interested in God than we think they are. Forget the statistics – think hearts. They wonder about God and may even believe in Him. If you ask them, you might find that it’s not Jesus causing their discontent – it’s Christians. Really – ask them.

For most of these young adults, parties and pregnancy are part of their everyday lives. They may not be partying or sexually active, but they know people their age who are. Again, while it’s a big deal to them, it’s also a normal part of their lives so what’s the big deal? The only ones surprised are us – the older people in their lives who do not want to admit this truth.

I encourage you to read Michelle Sutton’s books with an open heart and mind. One thing that you might find is compassion replacing tolerance when a young woman in your life gets pregnant outside of marriage. And, that leads us all to living a little bit more like Jesus. Compassion is not approval. Ask the young people in your life about that too. Now that’s a discussion that when it comes up always amazes me. Oh how I hope you’ll ask them.

Bravo Michelle – you’ve done it again.

I don’t write about my husband on such a personal level very often. He’s a private man and doesn’t care to have me tooting his horn. I do it as often as I can though – I’m very proud of him and honored to be his wife.

I am writing this entry with Jon’s reluctant permission. He hopes that you will see the bigger picture and not just his wife’s biased opinion of him. I say – see my man for who he is – a really terrific guy with a generous heart.

Several years ago, Jon invested in a business with energy and optimism. Instead of a return on his funds or encouragement from the company leaders, he received years full of loss and struggle.

It started as soon as he was official with the company. An ominous phone call came from one of their employees warning us about the true nature of the company and included a personal warning to me about the dangers of being involved with a mafia-like organization. Jon was on a business trip for his much more stable and profitable job with American Family Insurance when the call came. I was told to be aware of my surroundings at all times and the caller warned that being alone wasn’t in my best interest. When I tried to reconnect with this source later, he was suddenly missing in action. (This man later dropped off the face of the earth – even private and state investigators could not find him.)

Jon worked to have the company honor their promises and then with no choices left, he took them to court. He put up a valiant battle across several state lines and for a few years. Jon worked harder building his AFI agency so he could pay off his loan and support us. He did both in a very short period of time, but hiring an attorney wasn’t possible for most of this engagement. So, in what little spare time he had, he went to the local law library and with great courage and dignity, he represented himself.

While he often won in court, getting payment proved impossible. At one point, a judge over turned her decision originally in Jon’s favor although she admitted it was with great hesitancy that she did so.  A win became a loss.

Finally, the battle went to Texas. Worn out, Jon called a local attorney who said he’d look at the case and get back to him. Jon hired the attorney, sent him all his information, and boarded a plane.

While in the air, the attorney called me. He wanted to know where Jon got his law degree – he’d rarely seen such detailed and excellent work. When I told him Jon’s story, the guy was not only impressed, for some reason, he was moved.

When Jon arrived in Texas, the law office had cleared out an office for him to use and had called together a team of lawyers to guide Jon through the next steps. They met him at the courthouse – yes, they. The whole law office was on board.

This time, he met his nemesis face to face.

 Jon’s efforts made it impossible for this man to legally do business in at least three states, and a very small settlement was offered. My weary warrior accepted. He’d fought for his rights honestly and with integrity, but he was done.

The man I married honored God,, impressed judges (they said so!), attorneys (they said so too!), and me. Then, my tenacious, but tender husband made another decision: he spent that  small settlement on three kids who wanted to go to Disney World.

What the lawyers, his opponent, and those Jon blessed didn’t hear were the prayers said for this guy. My husband fought a worthy legal battle against the man who literally robbed him of tens of thousands of dollars and he also fought for the man. Jon didn’t assume his enemy wasn’t saved, he simply prayed if he wasn’t, he would be. Then, Jon went a step farther and came up with a way to share his faith personally with the man.

Jon was and is a living testimony of Matthew 5:43-45 (NKJV) to me.  He’s also my hero.

⁴³ “You have heard that it was said, ‘You shall love your neighbor and hate your enemy.’ ⁴⁴ But I say to you, love your enemies, bless those who curse you, do good to those who hate you, and pray for those who spitefully use you and persecute you, ⁴⁵ that you may be sons of your Father in heaven; for He makes His sun rise on the evil and on the good, and sends rain on the just and on the unjust.

It’s my birthday today. I’m 52.

My husband is a wonderful man. He remembered something I mentioned wanting months ago. It might seem odd, but this old girl wanted a little girl present. I asked for Beatrix Potter books. I unwrapped the first four at coffee this morning. I love them. I read part of Peter Rabbit to our puppies who seemed to take great delight in the story or perhaps it was simply the mention of rabbits.

Then, my mom and dad picked me up and took me my younger brother to IHOP for breakfast. My brother will be 50 in a few days.

It was a yummy breakfast, but a little bittersweet – we were all feeling our age I think. I treasure the time though. My brother made us all laugh. I savored the moments and let them sink deep into my memory.

There was an unspoken ending – no birthday pie. For many years Mom has baked me a rhubarb pie. I know she wanted to make me one – it just wasn’t meant to be this year and it may never happen again. Change is hard and yet, I am remembering the pies and am thanking God for the many I shared with my family.

When I got home, I checked my email and had many birthday wishes from family and friends who are regulars at FaceBook. That social site sure makes getting older a lot more fun!

Tonight my beloved husband will take me to supper at Applebee’s – he knows I love their spinach and artichoke dip. Then, we’ll head back home to watch Miss Potter. It’s one of my very favorite movies. We’ll snuggle with our puppies, I’ll get teary-eyed over her sorrows and triumphs, and it will be the perfect end to this birthday.

I’ve been known to break into spontaneous prayer although I admit it’s been awhile since I shared it with anyone. These days, it happens when I’m in the woods riding our John Deere Gator or walking in between the bean and corn field – alone.

One day when I was spending time with our niece who was 3 or 4 at the time. (She’s twenty–something now) We’d often snuggle together and I’d thank God for her or ask Him to provide for our needs.

This time I asked her, “Do you want to say the words?”

She looked up at me in wonder and said, “No. I don’t know the words to the song.”

We bowed our heads and I said the words for us. She moved in closer and I wrapped my arm around her while trying to wrap my heart around what she’d said.

When I asked her recently if she remembers this she said no, but she remembered us praying together and said when I prayed it didn’t sound like regular talking – it was more like singing.

I’m not bragging here. If it sounded like I was making music, it was because of God. He inspires that in me, brings it out of me, and receives it from me. I believe it is all from Him.

Praying out loud is a tricky thing. Sometimes how we sound matters to us. We don’t want others to hear us stumble, crumble, or mumble. We prefer to confess to no one and keep our messes undercover. We polish our praise and plan our petitions.

My prayer life is a whole lot of rhythm these days (think Johnny Cash’s guitar playing) and a little bit of blues. Sometimes there’s a gritty edge to the music in my soul and at other times a lovely melody. Sometimes I’m a little bit country and other days a little bit rock & roll (thank you Donny & Marie!). 

No matter what life looks like on the outside, there’s a whole lot of praying going on inside. Sometimes the words come with tears and other times great delight. Every now and then I don’t have any words – just feelings. It’s times like those I depend on God’s Spirit to say what I can’t pray — He knows the words to all my songs.

 Romans 8:26–27 (NIV)

In the same way, the Spirit helps us in our weakness. We do not know what we ought to pray for, but the Spirit himself intercedes for us with groans that words cannot express.

Randy sat across the room from me and said, “I’m going to die.”

I could only nod as my throat filled up with pressure and my eyes with tears.

We looked at each other safer now that he’d spoken the truth. As he spoke the next words, tears splashed onto his thinning cheeks and down his chin unchecked.

“I’m going to be okay – I’m going to heaven, but I’m going to miss my wife and boys.”

Sobs ripped out him as he bent his cancer filled head to his knees. I moved to sat next to him and rubbed his back.

What else can a cousin do?

Later, after we’d blown our noses and wiped our eyes, I asked him, “What would you do if you could do it all again?”

I wondered what magnificent deed or delicious adventure he might reveal. 

“I’d see more sunrises and sunsets. They’re so beautiful.”

“You mean you’d want more days?” I asked thinking a sunrise plus a sunset equaled a day.

“I guess everyone wants more days, but that’s not what I meant. I’d get up every day early enough to see the sun rise and take time to watch the sun set.”

Again, I could only nod as this simple truth washed over my aching soul. At the end of his days it wasn’t more that he yearned for – instead he wished he’d taken time to enjoy the beauty given to him in the days he’d had.

For awhile we sat in silence contemplating his end and my continuing on.

This conversation took place over fifteen years ago. Not long after, Randy entered the final phase of his life and  passed from here to there.

I got up early today with the help of our puppies and the smell of Jon brewing freshly ground coffee in time to watch radiance wash away nighttime’s midnight blue. Tonight, I watched the sky go from summer sky blue to pink and tangerine.

As I took my first sip of coffee, I raised my cup to the sun. “This one’s for you Randy.”

I haven’t seen all the sunrises and sunsets since Randy’s departure for heaven, but I’ve seen more than I would have without this beautiful word legacy he gave me in that quiet moment.