Back to school, football, hot chocolate and marching band. Those are what I think of when I think of September.
One of my favorite memories is going to the high school football games with my sister, who was older and in marching band. I’d buy hot chocolate and sit in the bleachers. I’d pretend that I was a high schooler. I loved the atmosphere, the chilly weather and hot drink, but it was the atmosphere that I liked the best.
When I got in high school, I hung out with my friends at the games. But none of those games holds the nostalgia that those early football games do.
As a parent, I watched both of my sons play football and my daughter play in the marching band. I went to the home games and enjoyed them. One year all three kids were in the homecoming parade, and that was a joy to watch.
Now that they are all grown and no longer in school or sports, I sometimes long for the days when I can sit in the bleachers and cheer on the games and the band.
Maybe that’s why my Hometown Pride series means so much to me.
The first book in the series is about the high school quarterback and the valedictorian who connect at their 15-year class reunion. Both widowed with children the same ages, they find more in common now than they had back then. And there is an undeniable spark between them.
May I have this Dance is the first book in the Hometown Pride series. Each Saturday, I will publish a chapter here on my blog, as I did the previous book.
You should know that this series is not Christian fiction. However, it is a sweet romance that doesn’t contradict my faith.
I hope you will stop by on Saturday, September 4 for the first chapter in
Anyone who knows me well knows that I’m not an outdoorsy type person. I’m also very afraid of heights, so you would not ever catch me rock climbing. However, the idea of rock climbing became very significant to me this week.
I was under a lot of stress and felt like I was falling into a pit of anxiety and depression. I’ve been in that pit before. I’ve worked very hard in the past 7 years to get out of the pit and stay out. There have been times when I’ve slipped and almost fallen. Thanks to God’s grace, and the support of family and friends, I’ve managed to find the footholds to climb out before I hit the bottom.
Earlier this week, however, as I struggled with the idea of trying to claw my way out of the pit that stress had caused, God gave me an amazing word picture.
Psalm 94:18-19 reads:
“When I said, my foot is slipping, your love, O Lord, supported me. When anxiety was great with me, Your consolation brought joy to my soul.” (NIV)
The image of a rock climber came to mind. Not knowing anything about it, I took a look at some photos and watched videos of rock climbers. I was impressed by the use of a belayer to assist in a safe climb.
Wikipedia describes the belaying process as follows:
“As the climber moves on the climb, the belayer must make sure that the climber has the right amount of rope by paying out or pulling in excess rope. If the climber falls, they free-fall the distance of the slack or unprotected rope before the friction applied by the belayer starts to slow their descent. Too much slack on the rope increases the distance of a possible fall, but too little slack on the rope may cause the climber to “whip” or swing into the rock at a high velocity, possibly injuring themselves. It is important for the belayer to closely monitor the climber’s situation, as the belayer’s role is crucial to the climber’s safety.”
Wikipedia.com
I have the sense that Jesus is my belayer as I climb the wall of life. He holds the rope, and He is attached to me through my relationship with Him. Though my foot may slip, He’s not going to let me crash to the ground.
Of course, I have some personal responsibility when it comes to my safety. I have to choose my path wisely. I can’t expect Jesus to save me when I am climbing outside the safety of His will. And the Bible makes clear what His will is in almost every situation that I face.
To stay out of the pit and climb successfully through life, I need the firm foundation of the Word of God. That foundation is the truth of who I am in Christ.
What is that truth?
God loves me.
God forgives me.
God accepts me.
I am a child of God.
As you climb the rock wall of life’s stresses, harness yourself to the One who created you, who knows you better than you know yourself, and who wants you to be fulfilled and blessed.
Make Jesus your belayer. He will make sure you have the right amount of rope to safely climb successfully out of the pit. He will not let you fall.
The Mackenzie Goode Books are a series: Mackenzie Goode Makes a Mistake. To date, there are three in the series:
A Big One
In the Kitchen
On the Basketball Court
The genesis of Mackenzie’s first mistake was lifted from my own childhood—I couldn’t keep my mouth shut while the principal read our class a story. I got in BIG trouble—with a punishment that likely didn’t fit the crime: In a dark classroom, my teacher scolded me: “If you were my child, I would hit you.”
My mother was appalled. Certainly, by my behavior, but even more so by the behavior of my educator. Mom told me, in no uncertain terms: “Nobody has the right to touch you, hit or, or threaten to do so.”
Mom had her own talk with the principal and assigned me her own punishment too: I had to write an apology letter to the principal for my rude behavior. My teacher never apologized to me. I always wish she had because we all make mistakes. I wrote the ending I wished for: for me, my kids, and all kids! We must own our mistakes, address them, and learn from them—grownups and kids, alike.
About the book:
Eight-year-old Mackenzie Goode has a sense of humor that always gets her into trouble. But in third grade, she makes the ultimate promise to herself: no more mistakes. Mistakes are for babies and the last huge mistake she made, back in second grade, caused her a forever grounding and to see a look in her parents’ eyes she never wants to see again: disappointment. When the principal of the school visits Mac’s class as a mystery reader, (some of the children were expecting teen pop idol Baylor Fast) Mackenzie’s will is tested. Instead of listening to the principal read, Mac sings her best friend, Cheese, a song she makes up about their friendship. Right in the middle of class!
Mac winds up in the worst sort of trouble! The see-you-after-school kind of trouble. The kind of trouble that is sure to create that look in her parents’ eyes she was trying so hard to avoid. Fixing this sort of mistake won’t be easy, but with the help of Cheese (and her parents) Mac tries.
Excerpt:
Mackenzie Goode looked at herself in the bathroom mirror and tried to brush her hair for the first day of school. ”Wrong,” she said. “Just wrong.” She used water. She used her sister’s fancy hair gel. But nothing worked, and her hair wouldn’t lie flat. Mackenzie was blessed with a great sense of humor, but had eight—count them, eight—cowlicks, those things that made her hair look crazy no matter how many times she brushed it.
On the first day of third grade Mackenzie’s cowlicks were not agreeing with her at all, especially the one above her left ear. That’s why she wore two pigtails every day in second grade. But this was third grade and Mackenzie Goode promised herself she wouldnot wear pigtails in third grade. Pigtails were so last year. The kids would make fun of her. She would shoot a joke back at them. And who would get in trouble? Mackenzie. That’s who. And that would be a mistake. And there was another thing Mackenzie promised herself: she would not make any mistakes in third grade.
About the author:
I have been writing for as long as I can remember. The first book I ever wrote is called The Bunny and The Eggs. This character driven tale is about the Easter Bunny, his hard work, and his love for the holiday. I bound it with masking tape and my mother wrote The End in cursive. To me that was exactly how a real book was supposed to look!
I grew up in Tenafly, NJ, attending Ralph S. Maugham School, Tenafly Middle School and Tenafly High School. I graduated in 1983 and went on to Villanova, but not before my high school guidance counselor looked at my grades and said, “Boy, I thought you were smarter than that.” At the tender age of 16 I was a bit devastated. I have since learned that we all excel at different things and at different times. Academically, I blossomed in college. I have been fortunate enough to pursue what I love—writing. When you find the thing you are passionate about, do it. If you are lucky enough to make a career out of it, that is success.
I write across genres, including romance, women’s fiction, middle-grade and chapter books. There is nothing I like more than telling stories (and mining golden nuggets from my own life). My hope is that my audience enjoys reading them as much as I enjoy writing them.
I spent a few hours over the weekend working in the deli where I previously worked. It was a seamless transition back into the job and with some of the same people from before.
I truly enjoyed my time there. It surprised me how much I liked hearing the other employees chatter while they work. I didn’t realize how much I’ve missed being around other people who talk and laugh and share their lives.
You see, since the pandemic started, I have isolated myself in my house. I’ve gone out to work, and to meet with my sisters now and then. But I’ve only gone to church a couple of times in the last 18 months.
I know I don’t need to go to church to be successful. God has seen to it that His purposes have been fulfilled in both my personal and public life. He’s brought me out of depression and given me hope, along with the blessing of seeing my writing career take off.
Yet, since getting out the past few days in a social environment, I realize that my spiritual well is starting to run dry. I’ve heard the expression, “you can’t pour from an empty cup.” My cup isn’t empty, but I do feel that it is becoming shallow.
I still do my devotions at home. I watch church services online, but not regularly. I need more than what I’ve been doing to firm up the foundation of my faith. Fellowship with other believers, worshipping in song together, and hearing the message from the pulpit, are all important elements in keeping the Holy Spirit flowing in my life.
Now I know what I need to do next in this journey of mine: to go back to church, and allow the fellowship with other believers and the live preaching of the Word to fill my spiritual well.
Since I struggle with social anxiety, it won’t be an easy road back, but I believe it will be worth it.
Fourteen-year-old Kaitlyn Myer dreams of becoming a basketball champion, but making her high school’s varsity team quickly turns into a living nightmare when a gang of bullies targets her. As their abuse erodes her confidence, Kaitlyn slides into destructive patterns and isolates herself from the people who love her most. If God is so good, why is her life so bad?
Taryn Thompkins, fifteen-year-old daughter of a heroin addict, is just settling into a group home when an experienced foster family offers to take her in. Embraced by the Myer family, Taryn begins to understand for the first time what family really means. But when Kaitlyn’s rebellion threatens everyone’s peace, Taryn is caught in a crossfire of mistrust and judgment and left wondering if she ever should have agreed to live with them in the first place.
Terrified of the repercussions, Kaitlyn cannot speak the truth, and no one’s listening to Taryn. But as secrets, half-truths, and lies upheave the family, one thing is certain: Truth alone will set their feet on solid ground.
Excerpt:
I stare at the brown bottle clasped in my hand. I lose track of how long I sit there, my hands shaking. God, help me. I never thought my life would go this way.
Tears fall as I twist off the cap and bring it to my nose. It reeks of memories I’ve tried to forget. My mother hurling into the kitchen sink… staggering across the house…passing out in a pile of bottles… me mopping up the beer she spilled in her drunken meandering. I swore I’d never do that to myself, but look at me now.
I bring the bottle to my lips and struggle to put back a few sips. I cough and sputter as the bitter taste attacks my tongue.
How does my mother—how does anyone—do this night after night? What am I doing? This isn’t me. I am not my mother. I will not become this person who turns to alcohol to feel better. I can’t get rid of this garbage fast enough.
In the bathroom, I crank the tap on high to disguise the sound of me dumping the rest of the bottle down the drain. I feel like I might cry, but now it’s a mix of agony and triumph. Maybe I’m destined to hold on to my pain—and everyone else’s—like a cancer for the rest of my life. Maybe it will take root somewhere deep down and fester until it becomes something so big, I can’t handle it.
But for now at least, I can handle it. I can hide this empty bottle of misery under my bed, where no one will find it. I don’t know where I’ll find the strength to carry all that’s been thrown my way, but at least for tonight I’m strong enough to resist my mother’s legacy.
About the author:
Chrissy M. Dennis lives in Saskatchewan, Canada with her foster daughters and calico kitty. She is a full-time mom and a part-time administrative assistant for Renovaré Canada. Chrissy also loves to read, crochet and, of course, write, trusting the Lord will use her books for the glory of God and the growth of His kingdom through the healing work of the Gospel.
She carries a Masters of Divinity in Youth and Family Ministry. She loves working with teens, and has felt the call of God to minister to the needs of youth in this culture. She hopes to continue writing, specifically regarding issues relevant to today’s teens, offering a message of salvation and hope. Her first novel, The Lion Cubs, received positive reviews and deals with themes of abuse and abandonment.