I’m a storyteller.

I tell stories through writing fiction.

I have been writing stories since I was in second grade.

This is my true “Beauty for Ashes” story:

My parents built a new house. It meant I had to change schools. I was still in the same district, but I had to start second grade in Morley. That year my older sisters were both shuttled back to Stanwood for fourth and sixth grades. I was at Morley by myself. I don’t remember much about the first day, until I was getting ready to go home. I couldn’t remember what bus to ride.

I stood in the hallway, crying.

With some help, I did get on the right bus but I couldn’t adjust to my new school. After several more episodes of tears during the first few weeks of school I was nicknamed “Crybaby.”

I struggled so much that I saw a counselor. There were two boys who were in the counseling group with me. The counselor played word games with us. One day she told us to go home and write a story.

We had a bunny rabbit that we were raising in the house, just a tiny thing. It had died. I wrote about the bunny. My counselor liked my story. She had me read it to the kindergarten class. My aunt asked me to write a copy of it for her.

An author was born. I was 7 years old.

Eventually, I adjusted to school. I was still sensitive, though. All anyone had to do was say curse words to me and I would cry.

In sixth grade, I spent time in the health room lying down.

But I wrote stories about a squirrel and his woodland friends. They were plagiarized from a book I read, but they were fun to write.

I went to a Christian camp. I met a counselor there who believed I could write well. She became my champion. She sent my story about the squirrel to a publisher. The publisher sent back a nice reply. They said that I was talented but not what they were looking for.

That became the story of my life. I would write a novel, find a publisher or agent, and submit sample chapters. Sometimes, they asked to see the whole story, which I would send.

Then the response comes back: “It’s not what we are looking for.” I have received so many of those letters that I have lost count.

In 1994, I was Mom to a toddler and a baby. I would stay up late after they were in bed and write on my word processor. I would get up before they woke up and continue to write my story. I burned the candle at both ends.

When the story, with the title Love Unexpected, was done, I sent it to a publisher who had recently published some contemporary Christian romances. I sent some sample chapters.

They asked to see the whole book. I sent it to them.

They sent me a rejection letter. But this time, the editor wrote some personal comments In the letter. She listed the reasons why it was rejected and gave helpful feedback.

“Please be encouraged that I thought your manuscript had enough flair to at least recommend it to the review board. 80% don’t make it that far.”

In spite of that encouragement, I set my writing aside. Life got busy. My children grew older and were active in school. I worked part time at different jobs. I got involved in church. I gave birth to a millenial baby.

Then in 2002, I started to write. And write. And write.

I researched everything I could get my hands on and wrote another historical novel, infusing my faith in God into the story lines.

By all accounts, I was living a normal life. I worked full time in an office. I was raising my kids, helping in their schools. I was involved in children’s ministry at church.

But inside, I was falling apart.

It happened so slowly that I didn’t even realize I was breaking down mentally. Then suddenly in May 2003, my life and actions spiraled out of control.

I told my husband, “I can’t find my center.”

He was confused by what was taking place. My kids were confused. Even I was confused.

I was admitted to a psychiatric hospital for evaluation. I received great care there. Within a couple of days, I was diagnosed with bipolar disorder.

Now my life made sense: The ups and downs of my emotions. Long months of depression followed by bursts of manic moods. Uncontrolled temper. The inner chaos.

There was a Bible on a shelf in my room. I turned it around so I couldn’t see the title. For a moment, I turned my back on my faith. But only for a moment.

I quickly turned the Bible back around and grabbed onto the faith that I had left.

From the ashes, God started doing something new in my life.

I was put on medication which my husband made sure I took even though it was expensive. I saw a counselor to find new ways to cope with life. I went to a psychiatrist every two to three months to keep my medications in check.

My family made sure I got to my appointments. I had a good support system.

During the months that followed, I completed writing book One of the Courage series. My friend was going on a trip and wanted something to read on the plane. She took my story with her.

She loved it. She wanted copies for family and friends. I found a local printer who could make spiral bound copies. They looked all right. Nothing fancy. The print was so small in the original that one friend had to wear two pair of reading glasses in order to read the words.

My mom’s cousin told me that she liked it so much, but she kept falling asleep while reading it because she’d get so tired. She would wake up and read a little more then fall asleep again.

I don’t how many times I heard people say: “I couldn’t put it down.”

With so much encouragement, I continued writing in the series: Books 2 and 3, then 4, then 5. After many attempts, I couldn’t get an agent or a publisher to take notice.

Then 2010, tragedy struck. My husband was electrocuted at work and was in a coma. When it became clear that he was not going to pull through, we knew it was time to let him go.

Without him, life became very hard and dark. I clung to my kids and got up each morning for them. I spent a lot of money to mask the grief.

One night, I missed my medication and almost went back to the psychiatric hospital, but my support system pulled me through.

In 2011, I went to a friend’s cabin. (The same friend who liked my book so well she wanted copies of it).

It was like a mini retreat in the woods beside a creek. I came home and wrote book 6 in the Courage series. Encouraged by family and friends I decided to independently publish the Courage series in a paperback book binding. I met with a designer and a printer. They produced a beautiful book that I could be proud of.

Slowly I grew out of the darkness of grief into the shadows, then one day, I felt as though the clouds had broken and Light was shining through. Like a butterfly, I shed the cocoon of grief, although would still encounter waves during the anniversary dates.

In the past year or two, I decided to upgrade the Courage books with new covers and improve the interior text for Kindle and Indie publishing through Amazon. I’m pleased with the way they look. I have some contemporary books that I am also selling online and locally.

In the story that I’d written in 2004, when my kids were small, I wrote:

“There were so many broken dreams, so much sadness, both in her life and in his, and yet she felt the hope she had in Christ. That ‘old things are passed away; Behold, all things are become new.’

God could build beauty from ashes. He had sent Jesus, His own Son to die on the cross, to be punished for the sin of the world. Through Christ, She had received God’s forgiveness for her past sins, and was clothed with righteousness.

God had a plan for her life, but He willed her to be patient as He healed her heart. She knew that she could trust God with her future.”

I wrote those words over 25 years ago as part of a work of fiction but I believe those words are true in my life today. God has been working on healing my heart.

I believe God watched me crying as a little girl, afraid of a new school, not knowing what bus to ride home and He said to Jesus, “Someday her tears will reach people for salvation. I will send someone to show her how to write. She will one day use the talent I’ve given her to glorify us.”

I have faced some difficult challenges and I have had many failures. But God has been in all and worked through it all, to make me into who I am today. My life, that was such chaos in 2003 has settled into order

My stories are my “Beauty from Ashes.”

Isaiah 61:3 reads: “…to appoint unto them that mourn in Zion, to give unto them beauty for ashes, the oil of joy for mourning, the garment of praise for the spirit of heaviness…” 

This is my story of how God has used my writing to turn the ashes of my life into beauty.

Blessed be the name of the Lord.