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.

I get hundreds of unwelcome emails every day. I have to scan the junk because my protective software often sends vital messages to the dump too.

A couple of weeks ago, one came from Her Majesty, the Queen of England. Don’t get me wrong, if Queen Elizabeth had really emailed me, it would have been grand. She didn’t.

A bogus barrister offering me a boatload of her bucks did.

Where do these scammers get these ideas? How can we get the gullible to stop responding? How do we stop these crooks?

These emails waste a lot of my time. Their manipulative authors make me cranky. They use Jesus (really – don’t we all get the ones that read: Beloved Sister/Brother in Christ? I think this could count as using the Lord’s Name in vain!), missing children, money, and now the Queen to get our attention hoping we’ll respond and give them our bank account information. They do their best to hit us where they think we might be most vulnerable. Their disrespect for Jesus bugs me badly. I didn’t like them using the Queen either.

As I hit the delete button I said to my computer screen, “I don’t want the Queen’s wealth, but a cup of tea with her Highness would really be something!”

Then my imagination took over. What would it be like to meet her?

I used to know how to curtsey – I learned how to do this with a book on my head when I was about 5 years old. It’s a skill I’ve never used and one I’d have to re-learn. Really, how does one greet the Queen? I live in a world of handshakes and hugs. Both seem out of place when I think about meeting her. Besides, my palms would be sweaty. Maybe we’d both wear gloves – I did that too when I was a little girl going to church on Easter morning. The curtsey might not go very well either – balance is a bit tricky sometimes. I’d better just stay home. Oh yeah – I wasn’t really invited.

All of these thoughts raced through my mind as I scanned and deleted over 300 crud-mails that early morning.

When I finished, I called out to Jon, “The Queen of England wants to make me wealthy.” His only response was, “Yeah right. Done deleting yet?  It’s breakfast time.”

I walked upstairs wondering what her Majesty would be having for breakfast in her part of the world and then for the first time in my life I prayed for her, “Dear Lord, be with the Queen today.”  I believe He was.

Freedom. We treasure it, fight for it, and some give their lives for it. For those behind bars for the rest of their lives, there is no freedom in sight. For those on death row, freedom isn’t a possibility. For a few who have become true believers in Jesus Christ – freedom will come the same day they “pay the ultimate price for their crimes.”

Author, Kathi Macias, recently released a novel titled, My Son John. This book walks readers through the halls of a mother’s heart when her son is arrested for the murder of his grandmother. This excellent book is available at: www.sheafhouse.com, www.amazon.com, and can be ordered anywhere books are sold. To dig deeper into what you believe, I urge you to purchase the book.

I also want to ask you – what do you believe about life sentences and the death penalty when it comes prisoners whose hearts are truly regenerated by Jesus Christ? What would you believe if it were your son or daughter?

On her blog Kathi recently wrote the following article:

Wednesday, June 10, 2009

Does Forgiven Mean Forgotten?

As one who has worked in jail/prison ministry for many years, including interviewing such notorious criminals as Charles “Tex” Watson of the Manson Family and serving as editor for the personal memoirs of David “Son of Sam” Berkowitz (both now dedicated Christians), I am concerned at the controversy over the fate of those who become believers after being convicted of a serious crime.www.kathimacias.com.

I have heard the argument that if a person has been forgiven by the ultimate Judge, he should no longer have to face the full extent of his punishment and that somehow leniency is in order because the person has truly repented and been born again and is no longer a threat to society. I have also heard the argument that “jailhouse conversions” aren’t worth the so-called paper they’re written on and should therefore have no bearing on a prisoner’s sentence.

There is merit in both arguments. I, for one, believe jailhouse conversions–if they are truly conversions and not dramatic attempts to gain freedom from incarceration–are as legitimate as conversions that take place anywhere else. I also believe that the One Judge over the universe, before whom we will all one day stand, has precedence over human law. Whether or not we believe someone is “worthy” of forgiveness is irrelevant. If God declares it so, then it is so.

But does being converted and spared eternal punishment after we die automatically preclude our need to pay the price for our crimes on earth? Does being forgiven by God mean our sins are forgotten by the world? Not at all. Though the change that comes from being born into God’s family may impact the way others perceive and relate to us in this world, as well as the way we spend whatever time we have left on this planet, it does not necessarily change the conditions of our earthly sojourn, whether we are inmates convicted of crimes against society or simply individuals living in various life situations. As many inmates I have spoken to over the years and who have become believers while incarcerated have told me, “I have the joy of knowing I will go to be with the Lord when I leave this place; until then, I will serve wherever God has me–in prison or otherwise.” Those prisoners who have experienced true conversions also know that prison walls and jail cells cannot prevent them from being free once the Son of God has made them “free indeed.” They also know that many outside the confines of correctional institutions are in prisons of their own making, refusing to repent and be set free.

That said, may I suggest that you consider reading my latest novel, My Son, John, from Sheaf House, which deals with this very subject. This poignant, gripping story of heartbreak, loss, and unconditional love will challenge you to walk in a level of freedom you may never have considered before.

You can find out more about the book, watch the accompanying video trailer, and order a copy directly from my website,

Blessings, beloved, as you walk in the freedom that has been purchased at such a costly price!

I’m 51 years old which doesn’t exactly seem elderly or even classify me as “older.” Okay, my body doesn’t work quite the same sometimes and I need my bifocals and many days I know I’m a bit over 50 without thinking about it.

The hardest thing about this time in life so far isn’t the aches in my body. It’s the way my heart hurts when a friend dies. In the last three months, 3 people in my life went to Heaven.

Nancy and I have known each other a long time – she was a little friend and fit nicely under my arm sort of like a little girl although she was around my age. She always had a smile for me, a hug, and a kid update – her daughter Megan is dear to my heart and I often kept in touch with the daughter via the mom. I miss Nancy.

Robert seemed to leave suddenly although he’d been sick awhile. I hadn’t seen him for awhile – his daughter is a dear friend and I kept in touch with Robert via her. He was only about 10 years older than I am and that seems young these days. Robert loved to talk about the deep things of life – usually God or politics. I am sad we won’t have any more talks and well, I miss Robert.

Peggy – dear shining Peggy. Really – this friend shone grace all over everyone who came into contact with her. She gave great hugs and godly wisdom when invited to do so. Her honesty and courage blessed me deeply but it was mostly her genuine acceptance of me – just as I am – I will miss most. She hugged me right where I was and the wisdom didn’t come out of her until I asked for it. Wished I’d have asked more often. I really miss Peggy.

All three are in Heaven. You might wonder how I know this…well, their heavenly destination was decided in their hearts before the left.

Were they good people? Yes, but it’s more than that.

Did they do good things? Lots of good things, but again, it’s more than that.

They believed Jesus was and is who He said He was and is. They accepted His payment of grace – the pardon He paid for on their behalf . . . and mine.

As I write this next part, the lump in my throat grows bigger and it’s a lot harder to swallow. I have another precious friend named Linda who is battling the same disease they had while on earth: cancer. I wish you could see her – she’s incredibly beautiful. And oh how she believes! I look at her closely and pray in my heart: please God not now! Linda won’t leave for her heavenly home until exactly the right time – it’s just that sometimes His time and mine are different.

My dad has cancer too but for right now, he’s doing very well. My mom has a fragile heart and lungs and for the first time in my life and hers, she can’t garden. Jon’s folks are doing good but time marches on – they are in their 80s so we know our time is limited with our parents we both love so very much.

Who said 50 was golden? Aging parents and dying friends is golden? Really – it’s just plain hard.

And yet…there’s this believing thing. I have it too. Jesus is who He said He is.

I know…

Jesus is God’s one and only Son.

He is the Way, the Truth, and the Life. No one gets to know the Father except through Him.

Salvation is God’s grace offered to us individually. We are saved by faith in Jesus.

I’m a sinner – we all are . . . but the gift of God is eternal life in Jesus Christ. I am forgiven!

Oh how I miss my friends! I miss them for their families and for me. No more time with them this side of the great eternal divide.

As far as I know, it’s not my time yet.

Until it is, I will believe and grieve and it will sometimes be harder than I can conceive. But, I know that in the eternal long run – it will be far more glorious than I can imagine.  

Readers beware. This is a policial opinion blog entry.

I’ve been asked several times if I’m going to apply for non-profit status for my company, believe, inc. My answer? No. Way.

Non-profit status allows the government to put a “gag order” on anyone taking this tax benefit. I’ll pay my taxes and say whatever it is I need to say. Going non-profit is like giving away part of my freedom of speech. The government has enough of it’s fingers in enough pies…it doesn’t need to be governing my beliefs or what I want to say about those beliefs.

If I choose to back a certain candidate, I want the freedom to “stand up” here on my blog or anywhere else and say who that is. If I disagree with a candidate and decide not to support him or her I have the freedom to say so and I want to protect that freedom.

I’ve also had people say, “But you’re a religious business.” My response to that? Sort of. I’m a believer who believes that all of us can be ourselves, we are loved (by God), and we can believe what Gods says is true. That’s why my brand statement is: be you…be loved…believe. I want people who read or hear my words to know they can choose to believe in God, in His love for them, and in their abilities/talents. So for that I shouldn’t pay certain taxes and should have my verbage governed by say…President Obama or Nancy Pelosi? I don’t think so. Not voluntarily. I didn’t want G. W. Bush controlling my words wither so don’t draw any big conclusions from my Obama/Pelosi comment. I’m not willing to give any government official the right to censor me.

Besides, I charge (most of the time) for what I do. I’m a for profit business woman who loves the Lord Jesus.

So, do I believe churches should give up their non-profit status? Yes. I am convinced we should pay the taxes and say whatever we’re given to say without government restrictions and suppression. Non-profit status allows the government and any policitical action group who disagrees with biblical standards to shut down a church if a pastor or leader publically endorses a candidate and as the guidelines tighten, even speaking about the rights and wrongs of an issue will be enough to close the doors.

Don’t you find it curious that the government who demands seperation of Church and State willingly offers non-profit status as a “benefit” to churches? I’m not believing it. This so called benefit is the bait that holds the Church in bondage to the State.

Ten years ago, I started writing a cute kid’s book. I wrote some stanzas of poetry and put those words together with some photographs. I kept working on it but two other kid’s books came into my heart and I knew they were to come before this first book. I kept refining the first story while I focused on the others. For a long time, it wasn’t the right time.

This year, that’s changed. Raccoon Tales is in the process of publication. It is a story born of personal experience. Yes, we rescued, raised, and released five baby raccoons. Looking back at the first verses and those photos, this is a story whose time has come because of the constant refining the writing went through. Every time I picked it up to cruise through it just one more time, I found a way to make it better. I picked it up dozens of times and I have the print outs to prove it.

Each word sifting brought about an improvement in the book and in my process as a writer. I’m thankful for every single minute I spent on this project. Praying. Editing. Praying. Re-writing. And then, praying again.

I also had the privilege of living the surprise of becoming a raccoon mom for a time and the sweet sorrow of letting them go when they were ready. I watched them disappear into the woods and realized, my prayers for their lives had been answered, and my dreams for them had come true. They were free.

A certainty pressed itself into my heart. God watched us take care of these wild ones we loved so much. He trusted them into our temporary care. Words cannot express the privilege it was.

Now, there’s another release taking place before the book itself is released. I’ve let it go to the publisher – it is done. I am content with it’s content.

Writing is a series of letting go experiences. Soon, I will set the words of this story free for readers. It leaves my care covered in prayer. I am no  longer day dreaming about how it will sound or look. Now, I’m day dreaming about little children enjoying it and understanding the most important fact of all. God loves them and wants a relationship with them.

These little raccoons came to us wild and we returned them to the wild certain both were God’s plan for us and them.

I’m thankful for these little tales and for the little ringed tails that inspired them!

 My publisher (Sheaf House) asked me to share with readers why this new cover is so important to me. Here’s what I wrote…Covers say a lot about a book and are designed to draw a reader in without a word. When first discussing a cover design with my publisher I was delighted when she shared her vision. She understood the story and knew her idea represented more than a marketing tool.  

The little girl on the front cover gives you a glimpse of Jonica.  While I write about her as an adult in this novel, I know as a little girl, puddle-jumping was fun for her – a way of expressing her joy after the sun chased away a cleansing rain. She is also the picture Jonica carries in her heart of the little girl she never had. A child who, like her mother would have found pleasure in dancing in the rain. This pixie-girl lives only in her dreams.  

The little boy on the back cover has a dual representation as well. He is the little one Staci aborted and the boy named Jonathan she later gave birth to – her nightmare and her dream come true. Eventually, like his mother, this little boy will learn to let the rain race down his cheeks and see the promise in the rainbow. He will puddle-jump with the best of them…usually Jonica. But, that’s part of another story.  

As the author, these little ones also reveal a bit of my heart. I can’t resist puddles, love walking in the rain, and rainbows thrill my soul.

it’s NOT about ME

A Second Glances Novel (#1)

by Michelle Sutton Annie is beautiful and the dream daughter. Her life is full of love and laughter until she’s nearly killed in a random act of evil. As two young men vie for her love, she must decide what to do with them, her own yearnings, and Jesus.

As I read this book, I connected with Annie in ways I never considered possible. I’m fifty years old and this book is written for mature teens and young adults. What could it hold for a woman my age? I was a teenager who thought she knew Jesus only to discover I didn’t – I knew about Him. I struggled with the same passionate issues Annie does – the kind of push-me pull-you attraction that takes over your life; mind, body, and soul.

It’s easy to grow older and forget the constant tension younger women battle – the one we assume nice Christian girls don’t fight every day they wake up. Surely, if they have Jesus, they won’t give in. Surely.

Really? Can we as the mature adults who love them assume this? If we do aren’t we leaving them stranded on the front lines of the battle alone?

Author Michelle Sutton writes with courage not often found in the Christian fiction market. Her characters say and do things real kids experience. Church kids. Kids who love Jesus with all their hearts. Kids seeking to know Jesus. Kids who just want to love and be loved. The kids you and I love.

Sutton doesn’t make the struggle easy because it’s not. Remember wanting to be kissed, touched, and ultimately loved? To belong to the right guy who was certain you were the woman for him? The desire that was more like a drive…the passion that consumed your thoughts and the thoughts that nearly drove you to distraction?

The daughters, granddaughters, nieces, and daughter of friends in our lives are feeling those same ancient longings.  This author writes about them without leaving the reader guilt-ridden and without hope. Instead she makes the way clear although never easy.

I applaud Michelle Sutton’s writing talent and her bold declarations of faith. I took to heart her reminder that young women are fighting for their purity every day and some are losing the war waged on them by the media and nonchalant Christians who want to hide from the reality that intimacy is something to be guarded and kept precious…but that’s it’s also one of the hardest promises to keep.

Michelle speaks the truth in love and grace. Her writing is both tasteful and heart-wrenchingly honest.

I want the girls I love to read this book and realize they can be pressured by good boys driven by their own internal urgings. I want those same girls to take another look at their own acts of enticement. And finally, I want those young women to know that hearts surrendered to Jesus are stronger –and so are the bodies connected to them. It’s not so much about more rules to keep kids safe from early sexual encounters as it is about showing them to the One who will empower them to make right decisions.

Michelle Sutton leaves readers impacted. While others call her edgy I found myself cheering her on as my favorite new reality author. She writes about faith, love, and life like it is. I found the story fresh and lacking the usual Christian clichés. My heart gives her an enthusiastic standing ovation for tackling these issues in such a fearless way. I trust this author with the hearts of the young women I love.

This is a power-filled story and I am looking forward to it’s Not About Him the next book in her A Second Glances series. .

Michelle is member of ACFW, Volunteer Officer on the ACFW Operating Board, Editor-in-chief for Christian Fiction Online Magazine, Sheaf House Marketing Director, edgy fiction writer, book reviewer, avid blogger/alliance member, CWOW blog mistress, mother of two teenagers, wife, pet owner, social worker by trade, and follower of Jesus Christ. Michelle and her husband of eighteen years live with their two boys in Arizona.

Michelle Sutton (pen name)
The Edgy Inspirational Author
ACFW Volunteer Officer voloff@acfw.com  
http://edgychristianfictionlovers.ning.com
http://www.michellesutton.net
http://edgyinspirationalauthor.blogspot.com 
http://christianfictiononlinemagazine.com