The Heirloom of Faith saga has turned a corner and is headed down a new road toward a different media – television or movies. To accomplish that goal, HOF needs to be adapted into a screenplay. Chris is the only one of us that speaks that language. Well, writes it! He will be doing the writing and I will function as a flunky and editor!
This blog site will be turned over to Linda, who set it up originally, and she will use it how she chooses. Look for future blogs from her on this site.
For Heirloom of Faith info as we have it, please check Chris’ website, ctlovett.com and/or mine, sydneywinthrop.com. Chris and I have a meeting in May to discuss timelines and goals, so check our websites mid-May for that update.
Thank you, all of you, for your faithfulness in reading this blog, and for your interest in our project. I bid you, adieu.
My husband has had a stomach bug for the last several days, and while I fully intended to go to church on my own, wimped out when I got out of bed this morning and discovered my throat was sore and I had a wibbly tummy. Which is why we turned on the television this morning at 10:00 a.m. central. Allll we heard about was today’s Superbowl. And the game doesn’t even start until 5:30 p.m. central. What can you talk about for seven hours? We didn’t find out, we turned it off.
Fun fact. The first Superbowl was played January 15, 1967, and pitted the—wait for it—Kansas City Chiefs against the Green Bay Packers. Spoiler alert—the Chiefs lost. The first Superbowl that included the Philadelphia Eagles was January 25, 1981, for Superbowl XV. (Or, Fifteen, for those of you that don’t speak Latin.) The Eagles lost their first time in the ring too.
As I write this, game time is two plus hours away. Neither my husband nor I have skin in the game. Both QB’s are Texas boys—win/win from a state loyalty perspective. My Texans have been abysmal this year and my husband’s Steelers—well, they did better than the Texans, but…
My personal next in line go-to is always my son-in-law’s Broncos. We won’t say much about them either. If the Cowboys had made it, I’d have held my nose and cheered them on, but nope. So, with no skin in the game, who do you cheer for? My husband is past caring at this point, so that’s when I usually follow my son-in-law’s lead.
He’s for the Eagles. Marginally. And for two reasons. One, because every time the Broncos played the Chiefs, they lost. It’s tough for him to get behind a team that whoops his Broncos. Two, he really admires the way Jalen Hurts handled it when Coach Nick Saben relegated him from ‘Bama’s starting QB to second string to Tua Tagovailoa’s starting position.
Some will remind me that the Texans lost to the Eagles so why not be for the Chiefs? Well, it’s hard to find a team last year that the Texans didn’t lose to, so I can’t hold the Eagles win against them.
Who will win? I say the Eagles, in overtime. Who do you want to win?
My eye appointment was interrupted by someone coming to the examination room to tell the doctor we all needed to shelter in place as there were tornado warnings for the area. With only one eye dilated, I followed the others down the stairs to a windowless room in the basement of the four-story building. Phones still operated, and many of the patients, nurses, and doctors followed the course of the storm. Even though the building did not appear to be in the path of the tornado, we stayed together until the all-clear signal sounded.
We returned to our places prior to the alert. The doctor completed my exam after dilating my other eye. I scheduled a follow-up appointment, new patients arrived in the waiting area, and the day proceeded. Those in a different area were not as lucky. Instead of returning to their routine, they were faced with sorting through damage, cleaning up debris, and making a plan to repair and replace belongings.
As a child, our town was destroyed by a tornado. We were at the church, still playing outside when there was an eerie quiet. The birds stopped singing, and the unusual silence so alarmed us that we all ran inside the church. A few minutes later, the tornado arrived, and its accompanying roar resembled a powerful freight train. Within minutes, the schools, homes, and businesses in town had been flattened or damaged. Our own home was tilted to one side and had to be dismantled. Almost all residents suffered destruction to their property, but ironically, none of the seven churches in our small town had been damaged. Those churches would serve as elementary grade classes for the next year while the high school students would meet in military barracks erected for that purpose.
In Heirloom of Faith, we write about a tornado and its aftermath. In the book, as in real life, the overwhelming natural disasters remind us of what is dearest and most precious in our lives—not things, but people and our relationships formed by love. Sometimes it takes a natural disaster or a catastrophic event to jolt us from complacency so that we may see more clearly.
As we wrote these books, we wished that you, the readers, would find words of encouragement, faith, and hope in the stories of the Key family members, individuals trying to follow the precepts of the Bible and live faithful lives which would point to God.
My eye appointment was interrupted by someone coming to the examination room to tell the doctor we all needed to shelter in place as there were tornado warnings for the area. With only one eye dilated, I followed the others down the stairs to a windowless room in the basement of the four-story building. Phones still operated, and many of the patients, nurses, and doctors followed the course of the storm. Even though the building did not appear to be in the path of the tornado, we stayed together until the all-clear signal sounded.
We returned to our places prior to the alert. The doctor completed my exam after dilating my other eye. I scheduled a follow-up appointment, new patients arrived in the waiting area, and the day proceeded. Those in a different area were not as lucky. Instead of returning to their routine, they were faced with sorting through damage, cleaning up debris, and making a plan to repair and replace belongings.
As a child, our town was destroyed by a tornado. We were at the church, still playing outside when there was an eerie quiet. The birds stopped singing, and the unusual silence so alarmed us that we all ran inside the church. A few minutes later, the tornado arrived, and its accompanying roar resembled a powerful freight train. Within minutes, the schools, homes, and businesses in town had been flattened or damaged. Our own home was tilted to one side and had to be dismantled. Almost all residents suffered destruction to their property, but ironically, none of the seven churches in our small town had been damaged. Those churches would serve as elementary grade classes for the next year while the high school students would meet in military barracks erected for that purpose.
In Heirloom of Faith, we write about a tornado and its aftermath. In the book, as in real life, the overwhelming natural disasters remind us of what is dearest and most precious in our lives—not things, but people and our relationships formed by love. Sometimes it takes a natural disaster or a catastrophic event to jolt us from complacency so that we may see more clearly.
As we wrote these books, we wished that you, the readers, would find words of encouragement, faith, and hope in the stories of the Key family members, individuals trying to follow the precepts of the Bible and live faithful lives which would point to God.
29 …Then Peter got down out of the boat, walked on the water and came toward Jesus. 30 But when he saw the wind, he was afraid and, beginning to sink, cried out, “Lord, save me!” 31 Immediately Jesus reached out his hand and caught him. “You of little faith,” he said, “why did you doubt?” 32 And when they climbed into the boat, the wind died down. 33 Then those who were in the boat worshiped him, saying, “Truly you are the Son of God.”
My wife and I went for about a quarter mile stroll last night. I had forgotten to take our trash to the end of the street for garbage pick up the next morning. The rural street where we live is very dark, fortunately I had an extremely bright LED flashlight. As we tugged our cart of trash, I pointed the flashlight towards the ground to illuminate what was just in front of us. Soon, my wife yelled, “You’re pushing me off the road.” While I could see where my feet were stepping, I had not noticed I was walking diagonally on the road. My perspective was off. With a slight adjustment of the flashlight, the illumination broadened the horizon to shine down the path. We were then able to see where we were going, not just our immediate steps. We were walking in the light.
Hazel, a character in HOF, worked for a ship builder, building cruise ships. War was beginning to ravage Europe and America’s involvement seemed inevitable. The owner was wringing his hands, focused on not being able to sell cruise ships in these perilous times. Hazel suggested converting the pleasure ship into a warship. She pointed his vision past the imminent and toward the horizon.
When life seems dark around me, I become very myopic. The past few years can attest to that. At times, to be honest, all my efforts were put into safely executing my next footfall, unaware, I was wondering off the path God had set before me. Like Peter walking on the water, I had taken my focus off Jesus and turned towards the storm. Fortunately, once again, God reached into my nearsightedness and redirected my vision to Him. Thankfully, He is The Light.
Linda, Chris and I have our own projects outside of our joint venture, Heirloom of Faith. (Shocker, I know.) Linda’s latest is a nonfiction titled, Opening the Box. Chris is a screenwriter. My latest is a cozy mystery from the Williams Agency series.
As a writer, I occasionally feel the need to interview people with specified knowledge I would like to take advantage of. In a kindly, writerly way, of course. That insider knowledge can bring a minor character to life.
I interviewed a fish and game warden for a character in A Spy, a Marshal and a Murder. Every day he goes to work, that warden steps into the unknown. What today? A boating accident? Drug smugglers in the bayous? A deployment to the border?
I recently interviewed a professional poker dealer. While his job doesn’t sound as dangerous a job as facing down a pesky alligator, according to the dealer I interviewed, he risks the unknown with every hand he deals. The reactions of the players – especially in high stakes poker games – can be contentious if the cards aren’t going the players’ way.
Both professions require men and women who embrace the unknown.
I enjoy giving the characters I create circumstances that upset their plans. To protect Ethan from a self-centered, drug addled mother, Jacob chose to ask his parents to raise his child. That was certainly not part of Jacob’s plans for his son. I don’t mind having a character’s life take an unexpected twist. It makes for a more interesting story.
Personally, I’m a control freak. Or would be if God allowed me to have my way. I’m not fond of the unknown. I want to plan the day, organize the week, calendar the month, and set goals for the year. I want my life clearly defined. But that’s not how God has led me. God reminds me – sometimes on a daily basis – that He is in control. And while I may plan to my heart’s content, ultimately, it will be God’s plans that determine my life’s path. And I wouldn’t want it any other way.
One of the characters in our story who draws the most sympathy and empathy from me is Warren Key. He is the older twin by minutes, but still has characteristics of many first-born children. He is the more accountable, reliable, conscientious, and he feels the weight of responsibility more keenly than his brother. He is even drawn to the same young woman, a lady who chooses to wed his twin.
Literature abounds with stories of twin dynamics. We have grandtwins, so I’ve witnessed some of the interactions firsthand. As the authors of the Heirloom of Faith series, I hope we managed the bonds and the conflicts between the twins, Warren and Benjamin Key, correctly. Even after the death of one of the fictional twins, the remaining brother still feels the presence of his sibling as a force in his life.
We would love to hear from anyone who is a twin or has twins in their family. Does twinship have a positive or negative influence on their lives?
This month, for the third time, my wife and I are utilizing hospice to help us ease the transition of a parent from this life to the next. Even though the end result is the same, I marvel at how each one has been different. From the various physical symptoms of the body shutting down, to seeing deceased family members or floating numbers (we assume from too many years of playing solitaire). The surprise flash of a seemingly unconscious smile when you say I love you, or waiting to pass until they say goodbye to that special “last visitor”. For Dad, it was my daughter, he wanted to touch her pregnant belly. Their attachment is as strong as a parent, our parents walked beside us every step of her life. Poetic that it was his dying wish to wait for her to arrive from Colorado. With that wish fulfilled, he is ready to “transition” any day now.
In our book series, Heirloom of Faith: A Family Bible’s journey, you can’t transition from generation to generation without confronting death. We explore the death of believers and unbelievers, Death that is long and drawn out, sudden, natural or by the hand of a murderer. (Okay, this is getting creepy; maybe I should have done this blog for Halloween.)
The hospice pamphlet described the process of dying as transitioning. I have another word, transformation. Transitioning, to me, is like sidestepping onto another parallel track, while transforming is progressing, growing, getting better. As a Christian, death is just leaving this old body and transforming into a new body. A body that is whole, perfect, and beautiful.
Thieves steal with impunity; our border isn’t just a sieve, it’s a beltway; and we are lied to everywhere we turn. Inflation is rampant, China wants Taiwan and Russia wants Ukraine. We live in a world of chaos.
So how do we cope with a chaotic world? Some self medicate. Some lose themselves in an online world. And some, read.
A Mother’s Gift is an adventure story. A story of love. A story of something lost, and a story of something found.
Most of all, A Mother’s Gift is a tale that will take you away from the chaos we live in and pull you into a world of hope and faith. And maybe, if you haven’t found God in your daily walk in this world, you will find him there.
During the past year I’ve been observing people in waiting rooms. I’ve spent hours with family members and friends waiting for doctor appointments, a lab technician, consultations with surgeons, or hospital procedures. The waiting room time is filled with thoughts of what ifs. Even though I believe and expect the outcome will be positive, some part of my brain clicks through a litany of the negative possibilities as well.
As a writer, I go through the what ifs for each of my characters with a calm attitude, even delight. I can give my fictional people a joyful reunion, a miracle cure, a skiing accident, or a sudden loss of vision. I can change their appearance. I give them wrinkles, freckles, scars, flawless skin, or riveting green eyes. I control their wealth or poverty, their living locations, and their habitats.
The medical offices provide a parade of people and plot possibilities. All writers study their surroundings and the people they encounter for writing fodder. But these waiting rooms feel sacrosanct. Individuals bond during the tense hours. Strangers become confidents and, at times, share secrets not told to their loved ones on the other side of the closed doors. All those waiting share nervous anxiety. Some display a cheerful bravado, others a quiet acceptance. Most demonstrate genuine empathy for the others in the room. Their life stories involve real characters whose pasts and futures are written by circumstances of life and not by someone sitting at a computer. I wish I could use a computer to create a different future for my recent companions, to reverse time or to alter the days before them.
As these scheduled visits to waiting rooms end, I look forward to returning to my office where I know in advance the outcome of life choices or can change the situations facing my characters. This is one of the benefits of being a writer. I can control the what ifs of a character’s life and their pain and grief. I hope the experiences of the past two months will enrich my writing and make me a more loving individual, of life itself and of my fellow companions of this journey.
Heirloom of Faith 