Buying Samir - Book Review

Buying Samir by Kimberly Rae

My rating: 4 of 5 stars


I had a knot in my stomach while reading much of this. But while it's not really fun to read, it's important to know about. This story continues where the first book left off, narrated by Jasmina, who wants to find her brother and parents. The means she uses to get to her brother are not good, but the danger she finds herself in helps her see her need of Christ. A good book for teens and older.

Thanks to Netgalley for my complimentary copy to review!

Capturing Jasmina - Book Review

Capturing Jasmina by Kimberly Rae

My rating: 4 of 5 stars


4.5 stars.  I will never think of tags reading "Made in India" the same way.  I knew so little on the topic of child trafficking, and this book really enlightened me.  It is written in a captivating way, and with compassion and delicacy.  There was only a thing or two I questioned, so I didn't quite want to give it 5 stars.  Some of the formatting in the kindle version was a bit off, too, but not horribly so.  Inspiring, too, to see how some women reach out to help save these girls and boys off the streets.  What are WE doing about it?  At least we should be praying!

Thanks to Netgalley for my complimentary copy to review!

His Mercy Surrounding, Part 2

Read part 1 here!

As Becky nibbled on a chocolate chip cookie at home that evening, she let her mind wander.  There was nothing pressing for her attention at the moment.

Becky had been more than a little nervous to start volunteering at the pregnancy crisis center.  Normally, when she met a new person, there was a lot of self-consciousness.  What would the person think of her?  What would she say?  Would there be common ground?  But somehow, when she read about a woman who had been in the abortion industry, Abby Johnson, it had resonated and called her to action.  Abby Johnson was a real person.  Someone with a heart, and confusion, and an awakening.  And God used sweet, loving protestors--ones who prayed and gave instead of shouting--to awaken Abby's heart, to turn her from the abortion clinics to something different.

Now Becky would talk to people without much fear.  She still occasionally bit her lip after saying something she feared was stupid.  But God was with her, giving her the right words much of the time, and blessing the process, giving sparks of light to women wavering in their decisions, wondering and hurting and needing a friend.

Becky had not always been loving.  Before Christ saved her, showing her the beauty of love and sacrifice and changing her heart, there had been haughtiness and disdain for the lost, or those with tattoos and spiked hair and too-tight pants.  Now, she knew she was just like them, and so she loved them, wanted God's love to reach into their lives.  She still struggled with pride at times, still caught herself grimacing at the biker chicks, but not so much.  Their souls were the important things, the place everything started and ended, and the place God could dwell.

Tears dotted her eyes.  To show the same love Jesus showed . . . that was her goal.  Unattainable in its entirety, but the thing she strove to reflect.  Her words still halted and stumbled, she still felt too small for the task.  But that was the beauty of God.  He was enough.  More than enough.  His strength was sufficient, and with Him all things were possible!

Becky heard her mother greet her father with a loud exclamation of joy at the front door.  How blessed she was to have parents that loved each other and her, so much so that they lived and proclaimed the gospel every day!

"Becky, where are you?" she heard her dad ask.

She brushed her face clear of crumbs and tears, and answered as she hurried out, "Here I am!"

His whole face brightened.  "How was your day?"  His eyes were glued on hers.  Her weekly visits to the abortion clinic were an exciting thing for them all.

"Quite good, Daddy," she replied, leaning into his hug.  "It was Payton's first day, and I think she did very well.  She's much more personable than I am, chatting like an old friend to everyone."

Her father gave her a warning smile.  "That's good, but don't compare yourself.  You have a gift in your way of communicating, as well, one God placed in you for a reason.  Not that we can't all use improvement, but . . . you listen well, and that's a gift."

Becky felt her face warm and nodded.  "Thank you.  But Payton did well.  And we had a girl who I think seriously wants to have her baby after seeing the sonogram!"

"Praise God!"

"She looked physically ill when she looked at it, wide-eyed and frozen in place."  Becky grabbed the ice from the freezer and put three cubes in a glass for her dad.  "So many people don't realize . . ." 

Her dad squeezed her hand.  "I'm so thankful you can be there."

"So am I, Daddy," Becky said.  "So am I."

Empire's End - Book Review

Empire's End by Jerry B. Jenkins

My rating: 4 of 5 stars


This story weaves in the Biblical epistles of Paul quite seamlessly into the story of his life. Much of the story was added, but not outside the realm of possibility, I believe. Some of it did seem unlikely, and I regretted that divorce was easily accepted by Paul and kisses sought at inappropriate times (one star off for that).  Overall, however, I really enjoyed this book. Paul was made out to be very human, yet bold and humble, growing in grace, and strong in the faith, matching up with what the Bible conveys about him. The message was inspiring and the end of the story touching. It left off a bit early in Paul's life, and I wonder if there will be a sequel (there is a prequel, I found out at the end).  The story-telling itself is not intricate--it is a straight-forward, first-person narrative, but with enough descriptions to add life.

Thanks, netgalley, for allowing me to review this book!

The Loss of a Special Pet

My mom took a liking to this little, friendly, black and white kitten on the steps of friends' house. She asked if she could have it, and the answer was yes.  We took him home, and he acted as if he belonged at our place. He loved exploring.  He was an easy-going, non-confrontational kitten, who hardly made a peep even if he was hit accidentally by a door.  He ran to keep up with us, he rubbed against our legs, especially when he was looking for food, and he curled up on our laps when he was content or tired.  He would also lift and hold one or the other front leg up while standing, as if treading slowly in the air.

What to name him?  We thought of nearly everything: Christo-Fur (Columbus was his original name), Raymond, Tuxedo, Oliver.  Nothing seemed quite right, though we finally settled on Oliver, after a stint with Christo-Fur.  Then, while listening to his high-pitched little meow, I called him Pipsqueak.  How about Pip?  (Another Dickens character.)  This name stuck, beating out Oliver.  Then came the nicknames such as Pipster, Pipper, Pippin, Speedbump--because he was always lying in our pathway, almost making us stumble--and occasionally I called him Lumbering Bear, because he was big and bear-like in his stride, except when he bounced along at a faster clip.

He grew and grew, until he was bigger than our other cat, Kezzie, who was not enamored with him at first.  But eventually, though they sparred and tussled like alley cats, they became friends.  Kezzie would lick his head or paws as if she were his mother, and occasionally Pip would lick her as they were curled up next to each other.  Pip also liked to stretch out long, sometimes on his back with his feet sticking up and out.

This past week, Pip was struggling with an illness after getting neutered.  The first sign he was sick was when he wouldn't eat.  Pip's appetite was gigantic.  So this--this was concerning.  We wondered if he was still recovering from his surgery, but he had eaten since the surgery, so perhaps this was something else.  We started giving him tuna fish instead of hard food (noting that his gums were inflamed), which he ate a little bit.  But it was still not the Pip of earlier days.

We took him to the vet, got some tests, and some antibiotics and saline solution to give to him.  He had a 105-degree fever and was dehydrated. The vet said it could be a tick-born disease, and . . . that this was usually fatal.  We were still clinging to hope, and coaxing Pip to drink and feeding him droppers of yogurt.  There was no imagining life without Pip.  But by the fourth or fifth day of him not eating anything, and having very little reaction from him when we pet him (normally he would be purring away, even when we weren't petting him), I started to face the hard truth.  He wasn't getting better. I could see it in his half-glazed eyes, feel it in his thin body which had been plump a while before.  We treated him gently, lifting him to the sink to drink, putting him on a towel on the couch to relax.  But he didn't stretch out like before, he just sat, with his head sinking lower and his eyes barely open.  I cried.  Yes, he was "just" a cat, but he was also a buddy. . . . He would follow us around everywhere, getting between our legs, playing with grass, and generally being a cute nuisance while we tried to garden.  He wanted all the attention and time from us he could get . . . and in retrospect, I would have given him more attention.  Shouldn't it be that way for all the special things and people in life?  We never know how short their lives may be, so don't waste time on things of lesser importance (and I'm still learning that lesson).  Is a cat important?  Not like a person, who has a soul that lives forever.  But a cat is a beautifully created thing, given for our pleasure and God's glory.

A day or two before he wandered off.  He looked remarkably healthy here,
but you can tell by his dirty paws that he wasn't up to his usual self.
He enjoyed the outdoors so much that it perked him up for a while.

I wrote this free-form poem when I was hurting, yet trying to comfort myself.  All this came on top of the death of a tiny kitten of Kezzie's.

"A time to be born, and a time to die,"
Yet some die young.
It seems wrong somehow,
Like saplings blighted
Before the flowers appear,
Or robust redwoods
Chopped for no good reason.
Does not God want beauty
And friendship here?
Is not an animal innocent
Of sin and shame like ours?
Yet there they lie, still and cold,
The breath knocked from their lungs.
Is it all to teach a lesson,
To show our sin, to chasten us,
Or to make us long for kingdom days?
Perhaps, or further still
To long for Thee,
My Father, God.
Your arms are there
For us to cling to,
Your promises don't fail,
And nothing comes or goes
Without Your wise ordaining.

We couldn't find Pip when he wandered off when I left him for five minutes outside (where he loved to sit or romp).  We searched the bushes, combing back and forth, risking ticks, ourselves.  Pip now must be dead, and it still seems unreal, but not quite as nightmarish as it seemed when he first left.  God is good, no matter what.  Come rain, come fire, come sweet or sour, He knows our needs and loves us despite our every sin!  This is what we need to remember every hour.  This is why we can "Rejoice always, pray without ceasing, in everything give thanks; for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus for you." (1 Thessalonians 5:16-18) 

And, sweetly, the message today at church was about trials, God's refining purpose in our lives.  Oh that I would readily rejoice even in the worst times!  Yes, there is a place for mourning, too, but there should be behind that a peace and joy, deeper than the pain.

Uncovering the Life of Jesus - Book Review

 
This is a very short book about some of the events and lessons in Jesus' life on earth (from the book of Luke), including the prodigal son, the centurion who proclaimed Jesus to be the Son of God, and the resurrection of Christ. There are questions to get you thinking, and places to write your notes. I enjoyed it, but wish it were a bit longer and in depth and more helpful in witnessing (which I thought would be the theme of the book). It also seems to be from an Arminian perspective, which goes against what I believe the Bible teaches. However, there were a few new thoughts to me, and it could be a helpful book for those who are new to the Bible, and could be applied to witnessing.

My thanks go to crossfocusedreviews.com for this book to review!

Tears in Room 001

Take a moment, if you will, to read this touching and inspiring account by a friend of mine!

Tears in Room 001

His Mercy Surrounding - Short Story, Part 1

I started writing this over a year ago, and it's still unfinished, but I thought I'd post what I have of it, and perhaps be more motivated to finish it.  I hope you like it!  Comments and critiques are welcome.

His Mercy Surrounding
Copyright 2015, Melissa Merritt

The light bulb flickered, then died, plunging the room into darkness.

"Stupid light," Greta mumbled, then rummaged for a flashlight in the purse that weighed down her shoulder.  She always came prepared for anything.

The beam of her flashlight revealed cracked walls, warped cardboard, and old pallets.  She thought she heard rustling.  Probably rats or a stray cat.

"Why did you have to pick this place, Adam?"  She clenched her jaw, turning slowly and scanning every corner of the room.  One never knew who else might be using this old warehouse as a rendezvous.

She heard footsteps shuffling.  Adam always walked like that, with his hands in his pockets and a quiet smile on his face.

"Hey, babe," Adam said, grinning as he reached her.  "What'd you call me at this deep, dark hour for, sounding so mysterious and frantic?  Missed me that much?"

Greta felt herself trembling, and tried to still herself.  She even managed a half smile.  "You wish."  She took a deep breath.  "I'm pregnant, Adam."

His eyebrows rose.

"I don't know what to do!"  She pressed her lips together to keep from crying.

He breathed a laugh.  "Well, what do you think?  Either you hide away in Australia, or you get an abortion."

She put her hands to her forehead.  "But it's your child!  We could--get married.  It's still early enough."

Adam shook his head and backed away.  "No way. I'm not ready for that!  We're in high school, for crying out loud!"

"I know.  I know!"  She huffed out a breath.  "I never thought this would happen.  It would kill my dad!  You know him."

Adam smirked.  "Yeah. Mr. Preach-to-all-the-world-yet-neglect-his-daughter.  He deserves the humiliation."

Greta's eyebrows knit together.  "But--isn't abortion murder?"

"You swallow that lie from your father?"

Greta turned and looked at the floor, its grime glaring in the round circle of flashlight.  "He might be right about some things."

Adam put a hand on her shoulder gently.  "Greta.  He's a hypocrite.  I'm sorry to say it, but he is.  How could he be right when he's so wrong about so much?"

Greta bit her lip.  Her father did advocate being a loving parent, leading the home in righteousness.  He never seemed to have time to live out his words.  Television crews and huge crowds  flocked to him, and he drank it up.  He only had one child, yet he didn't even take an interest in her beyond asking how her week was or what she was studying in school, and that while he was surfing the internet or reading a book.

She sniffled and blinked away tears.  "Maybe you're right."

~~~

Becky pulled her crocheted cardigan on and hummed a line of Handel's Messiah.  The sky was cloudy gray, but there was one little pocket of sky where the sun shone through.

May Your light shine, oh, God, she prayed.  May there be someone saved from darkness today, and some little lives kept.

The tea kettle whistled shrilly.  She poured a mug, stirring in honey, then letting the tea bag steep for a minute while she chomped down a banana.  She carried the cup to her mom.  "I'm about ready to leave.  Pray for us.  Love you."

Her mom smiled.  "Thank you, honey.  I love you, too.  I'll be praying."

Becky nodded, then paused with her hand on the door-frame.  "I'll be praying for you, too.  Hope your doctor's visit goes well."

"I'm sure it will.  It's just a check-up."

Becky drove her car to her friends' house.  Mrs. Harper was in the van waiting.  Becky hopped in the van and was greeted warmly.

"Peyton is running late, as you can see," Mrs. Harper said with a grin.  "I think that girl would be late to a baseball game, and you know how much she loves those! . . . Wait, she has been late for one."

Becky smiled.  "The main thing is she's coming.  I'm so glad you could both make it! Thank you for taking me."

A minute went by before Peyton came jogging out, a bagel in one hand, a satchel on her shoulder, and a Bible in her other hand.

~~~

Does anyone care about me?  Do you care, God?

Greta gripped her purse strap tightly, feeling metal dig her skin.  She swallowed and gazed at the abortion clinic through a clump of tall bushes.  Women, some weeping, some with head held high, were ushered into the clinic through the big gates.  They were greeted with smiles, but the workers seemed in a hurry.  Outside the gate, there were a few sign-clad people, and some shouting, some praying.

Other women came out of the clinic, looking broken.  Was that what she would look like when she came out?  If her nerves were any indication, it was more than likely.

Adam seemed to think it would be easy, that it was the only option.  But they didn't have to operate on him.

She wiped her face, making up her mind.  She turned, hopped in her car, and revved the engine.

Then she saw a similar building across the street and a little farther down.  The sign had a stylized drawing of a mother and baby on it, and read Hopeful Care.  The name might have sounded cheesy to her at another time, but right now . . . Hopeful Care sounded . . . hopeful.

She parked, looked at the small, flagstone building, and got out.

No one was there to hurry her in like a fugitive.

Inside, a brunette in her thirties looked up with a smile.  "Hello, there!  Welcome to Hopeful Care.  I'm Lindsay. Have a seat, please.  What's your name?"

Greta sat down, glad to rest her jelly-like legs, then ventured, "I'm Greta.  What is this place?"

"Well, Greta, we're here to help troubled women who are pregnant, giving other options besides abortion."

"Options?"

"Yes.  We can give you an ultrasound, first off, to see if you really are pregnant.  Then we discuss the options of keeping the child, giving him up for adoption--"

Greta bit her lip and looked away.  "But what--what would I do in the meantime?" she murmured.

Lindsay reached a hand out to squeeze Greta's hand.  "We'll talk about that, too.  Let me introduce you to some other ladies."

Greta squared her shoulders and followed Lindsay down a hallway and into the first door on the left.

Two girls about her age and a gray-haired woman were in the midst of filling plastic bags with diapers.  They looked up.

"Greta, meet Mrs. Harper, Peyton Harper, and Becky Murray.  Becky's been here for a few months, but the other two are new."

~~~

Becky smiled at Greta, noticing the tightly crossed arms, the trembling lips.  "Hello, Greta.  I'm glad to see you." Becky looked at her two friends.  "I think Greta and I will get acquainted, and you can continue packing for now.  Right this way, Greta."

"Are you going to give me a test?" Greta asked.  "Because I already took one, and it was positive."

"Yes, but they can sometimes be wrong.  Rarely, but it's standard procedure to check, and give you a chance to look for yourself."

"Look?  At the fetus?"

"Yes, the unborn baby."

Greta shook her head.  "I really think--well, my boyfriend thinks I should get an abortion.  It would be easier . . ."

Becky's eyebrows pinched together in sorrow.  "It may seem so, Greta, but . . . there are scars from things like that.  Deep, heart scars."

"How would you know?  Have you had an abortion?"  It was tossed out impertinently, but there was something fragile in Greta's eyes that Becky caught.

"No," Becky answered softly.  "But I have a friend who did."  Becky rubbed the chain to her silver heart-shaped locket.  "The pain went so deep she--wanted to kill herself."

Greta froze, then cleared her throat.  "What happened?"

"She tried it, but her parents stopped her before she could finish the job."  Becky's voice trembled a bit, but there was a peaceful smile on her lips.  "And Someone else stopped her, too.  God took hold of her and made her see that there is forgiveness in Him.  There is life.  But there was no going back.  She still regrets her decision to kill her own baby."

Greta pressed her lips together and blinked.  "But how could I take people--looking at me?  My dad . . . everyone.  If God forgives, it can't be so bad to--you know.  Most people don't even think a fetus is a baby yet."

Becky swallowed, adjusting her thoughts into words.  Talking didn't always come easily to her.  "It is a baby--we'll show you pictures of a  baby's growth and functions.  And thus, it is wrong to kill an unborn life.  God forgives, yes, but that is no reason to sin."  Becky prayed a three-second prayer for help and for Greta's heart.  "Think of the horrible price Jesus paid on the cross.  Sin is very serious to God!"

Greta squirmed and sighed deeply.  "Okay, then.  Give me the test."

~~~

Greta shut the door behind her, then clenched her jaw.  Her father was sitting at the couch near the door, and he looked up from his Bible only briefly.

"Hi, Dad."

"Hello, sweetheart."  He looked back down and scribbled something in his study notebook.

All veneer, no solids.  Greta would take the rough-and-tumble, not-word-perfect, yet heartfelt dad any day.  Would he even care about anything but his own reputation if she told him that she was pregnant?

"Did you have a good day?"  His words were said nearly every day, like a ritual.

Greta decided to be honest and see if he noticed.  "Just horrible."

"That's good," he mumbled, buried deep in his writing.

Greta rolled her eyes and hurried to her room.  She plopped her leather purse on her bed, then quickly took out a folded paper.  Her fingers trembled, wanting yet not wanting to unfold it.  She swallowed once, twice, then flipped the paper open.

Just as she had seen at Hopeful Care.  Black and white and a bit fuzzy, but there was a hand, a head, and the cutest little nose.  A sob rose in her chest.  She felt like vomiting.  This little person she had thought of putting an end to--why, it was murder, wasn't it?  Dad or no dad.  Perhaps he didn't even mean the words, just said them to sound good . . . but he was right.

~~~

To Be Continued . . .

Gluten-free Oatmeal Peanut-butter Cookies - Version #2

I was playing around with this recipe today, and here's my 2nd version, which really has two different ways of doing it. My measurements are not exact, because I was going by look, feel, and taste, though I based it on my first recipe. So, please do the same when you make yours! This is just a guide.  But for me it turned out better than my other recipe, so I wanted to share again.

1 cup gluten-free oats
1/4 cup or so flax seeds
1/4 cup coconut oil after melted, about 2 Tb. hard
Nearly 1/2 cup maple syrup
2 organic eggs, whisked
1/2 carrot & apple pulp (or just carrot)
1 tsp vanilla
3 heaping tablespoons organic, natural peanut butter (or nut butter of your choice)
1/2 tsp. of cinnamon
2 tsps. or so of cocoa powder
3/4 tsp. baking powder
1 cup (approx. for whole recipe, or 1/2 if you add it later) soy flour - Optional (I added it in half-way through, and actually liked it better without this, but it is helpful if you want to roll them into neat round cookies.)
These would also be good with pecans or other nuts, but I didn't want to use them this time.

After mixing these up, preheat oven to 350 degrees F.
I found you don't really need to grease the cookie sheets--yay!  Drop cookie dough by spoonful or by hand, about 1 1/2 inch round.
Bake for about 9 minutes, or until golden brown around the edges.
You may serve with a dollop of plain yogurt, touch of maple syrup, and a dash of cinnamon, as pictured.
Makes 25-30 1 1/2-inch cookies.

To recap, the main differences from my previous recipe are the flour, the baking powder, and the cocoa powder.  Let me know how it turns out for you, or what you changed! :)

God's Battle Plan for the Mind - Book Review

This is a well-laid out, hard-hitting book on the topic of Biblical mediation.  The very word "meditation" brings to mind false religious groups/practices, but there is definitely a clear use of meditation in the Bible, and there are even commands to do so.  The book tells about "occasional" and "deliberate" meditation, both of which have their place.  This book lays all these things out, as well as other reasons for meditating on God's Word, distractions from doing so, and ways to aid in meditation.  For someone who struggles with doing so amidst the entertainment and busyness of life, this was an especially convicting and practical book.  There were many great quotes from Puritan authors such as Thomas Watson, Jonathan Edwards, Richard Baxter, and more--my book is pretty well marked up. I definitely recommend this!

I received this book from crossfocusedreviews.com in exchange for my honest review. Thank you!

P.S. - For a good, longer review, check this out.  I should add some of my favorite quotes (such as two from this site) to my review, too.