Over the weekend I attended a craft show that happened to be in the gym of my old elementary school. That school held some of the saddest memories of my life with very few good times. The above photo with me holding up the sign for our class photo was a special privilege that made me feel good about myself. But for most of my elementary school years I was sad.

It started in second grade, when we moved to a brand new house. The move meant I had to change schools. I was still in the same district, but I had to start second grade at a different elementary school.

That year my older sisters both were shuttled back to our previous elementary school for fourth and sixth grades. I was the new school 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.

Somehow I got on the right bus that day, but I couldn’t adjust to my new school.

I struggled so much with crying and adjusting that I saw a school counselor. One day she told me to go home and write a story. We had a bunny rabbit that we were raising in the house, just a tiny thing. I wrote about the bunny.

My counselor liked my story. She had me read it to the kindergarten class.

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

I had a church camp counselor who was good to me. She wrote to me, and I sent a copy of my story to her. She liked it and became my champion. She sent my story to a publisher.

The publisher sent back a nice reply. They said that I was talented but not what they were looking for.
(I would hear that many more times in my life.)

I continued to write throughout middle and high school. Teachers and classmates read my stories and encouraged me to keep writing. When I went away to college, I set aside all of my stories, and a few years later I destroyed them (So glad now that I did.)

In 1994 I started writing again. (Eleven years after high school).

I had a new baby and a toddler. 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. I burned the candle at both ends.

I focused on making the novel a Christian romance. When the story was done, I sent a query letter to a publisher along with some sample chapters.

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

A rejection letter.

This editor made some personal comments in the letter. She told me the reasons why it was rejected and gave helpful feedback.

She also wrote: “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.”

Instead of getting discouraged, I wrote another story. This time a historical Christian novel.

I did the research. I used the same word processor. I wrote the first few chapters And mailed them to a publisher from the Writer’s Market book. They asked to see the whole story.

I typed up the rest. I burned up my word processor and had to borrow another one to finish it. I sent the book to the publisher.

It was rejected.

I set my writing aside.

Life got busy.

As the 1990’s turned into the early 2000’s, my children grew older and were active in school. I worked part time at different jobs. I was busy in the church. We changed churches a few times.

I had another baby.

In 2002, I started to write. And write. And write.

I researched everything I could get my hands on and wrote another historical novel.

I looked for a publisher for the new book. I sent it a few places. I even paid to have it on a website for publishers to look at. It was rejected every time. It went through so many rewrites that I don’t remember how the original started.

In 2007, my friend was going on a trip and she 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.

My family and friends bought them.

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.

A cousin told me that she liked it so much, but she kept falling asleep while reading it because she was 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.

I continued to have them printed in spiral bound books and sold a few copies.

In 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.

It was hard to go on without him. I clung to my kids and got up each morning for them. I spent a lot of money to mask the grief.

In 2011, almost a year after his death, I went to a friend’s cabin. (The friend who’d read my story and encouraged me to get it published.) It was like a mini retreat in the woods beside a creek.

I came home and wrote book 6.

Encouraged by family and friends I decided to self-publish the Courage series again, this time in a regular paperback book binding. I met with a designer and a printer. They produced a beautiful book that I could be proud of.

I continued to publish all 6 books in the Courage series.

Then I just stopped writing.

Those were the dry years. The lost years. Focusing on my kids. Helping them reach independence.

Struggling with depression and anxiety and lack of self worth.

God placed in my path a Christian counselor. Someone I could trust. I started to climb out of the miry pit of depression and work through the grief. Gradually the darkness turned into shadows.

In the spring of 2018, I read a book about joy by a woman who had overcome many obstacles. After reading her book It was like a dam burst inside of me.

I had joy again. It was like a butterfly that had come out of its cocoon into a place of beauty and light.

In October 2018, I went back to my friend’s cabin. It was a mini retreat for me. Mostly I stayed inside the cabin watching Nicholas Sparks’ movies and drinking coffee on the porch overlooking the river.

When I came home an idea came to my mind for a new contemporary series. I wrote the first story. Then I wrote a sequel to that story.

The creative streak continued as I updated another story. I sent it to a publisher but it was rejected. I kept at the writing process.

I started reading “Billionaire” romances on Kindle. It made me think of that first story that I had written in 1994. The main character in that story was very rich. I decided to rewrite the book and make him a billionaire.

I completed the rewrite.

Then I worked on a Christmas story that had been in the back of my mind for several years. As I was in the midst of writing it, I found a publisher who was looking for Christian Christmas novellas. If I sent it in, they would review it and give positive feedback.

I finished it, sent it in, and amazingly, I received a contract for publishing.

My Christmas novella was published in 2019.

I followed up that book with a sequel holiday novella. in 2021.

Then Anaiah Press published my Billionaire book. It was an answer to a lifelong dream.

When the publisher closed its doors, I was sad, for them and for myself. I decided to go back to self publishing. I had the Courage series updated with new covers, all six of them. As of this writing I have published 12 books.

All of my stories:

The ones that are finished,

The ones that are still in outline form,

The ones I have self-published in paperback and spiral bound,

The ones that have been rejected by authors and agents

But have become well-loved by readers:

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…”

From the time I was a little girl, sad and unable to adjust to school, to a grown woman who lost the love of her life in her mid-40’s and to the woman of 60 who stands with courage today in the face of many challenges, God’s love has never let me down. He has been faithful to bring about good in all things in my life.

This is my Beauty from Ashes story.

Blessed be the name of the Lord.