I was in the midst of final page proofs for The Pursuit of Tamsen Littlejohn. I quickly wrapped those up while we had our quiet Christmas here in Oregon, turned them in a week early, then flew back east to attend Dad’s memorial service during the week between Christmas and New Years. I ended up traveling back and forth from Maryland to West Virginia, in company with many family members I don’t get to see often. Then, on the first leg of my journey home, having been given a first class seat I hadn’t paid for, I had a clear aerial view of the Appalachian Mountain front from DC down to Atlanta. I spent those precious moments imagining Tamsen and Jesse in their much more difficult passage across those mountains that I live so far away from, and (like those family members) am not able to visit as often as I’d like. That was one of many healing moments during that journey, one of those times where God surprised me with His grace, presence, and peace.
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| Our last photo together |
When The Pursuit of Tamsen Littlejohn released, there was a thread of sadness woven through those weeks, knowing I couldn’t share it, or any other books to come, with Dad. But he got to read Burning Sky, my debut novel, in his last months on earth, and I’ll always be grateful that my publisher, WaterBrook, and my editor, Shannon Marchese, made it possible for me to announce the news of my first publishing contract in person to my Dad during yet another December, 2011, when he spent Christmas on the west coast (his first there in 50 years), where I’ve live since the early 1990s. That was the last time I saw Dad, though again I’d no idea it would be the last time.
Now another year has flown. December again finds me finishing up the final proof read of a novel that will release in April. The Wood’s Edge has passed out of my hands now. I can’t change another word of it. But I can still pray over its pages (and do!) and for the readers it will reach this coming spring. My prayer for this book is that readers will, along with enjoying a story near to my heart, meet the God of Heaven in its pages. The Father of us all, in whose presence my Dad now dwells. The Wood’s Edge bears this dedication:
This book turned out to have much to do with fathers. It is dedicated to mine, who is loved and missed.Larry George JohnsonAugust 24, 1943 — December 22, 2013
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| First Look: back cover (click to read) |
December 2014 also finds me finishing up another manuscript for WaterBrook. A Flight of Arrows, sequel to The Wood’s Edge, is due in January. I’m polishing it up, tightening my typically overwritten first draft, and soon this story too will be out of my hands. At least until the rounds of edits start next year.
And in the back of my mind is a whole new cast of characters waiting to have their story told. Very soon now I will gather up the stacks and stacks of research books I’ve referenced over the course of these last two manuscripts and put them back on their respective shelves. Then I’ll go through my titles, pull out the new research books that have been waiting for me to get to them, decide if I need to find more (most likely, yes!). I keep the reference books for the current novel-in-progress close by my desk, all together, over the months or years I have most need of them.
December is once again proving a month of transition, though a far gentler one (thus far) than 2013. For the first time in a while I will be able to set aside all writing-related activities for a few days and simply enjoy spending time with Brian, his elderly mom, and friends. I’m looking forward to getting a Christmas tree this coming Saturday. I haven’t had a live tree for a few yeas now. I’ve missed it!
My prayer for you, readers, writers, and friends, is that you will sense Emmanuel, God with us, during this busy season. That God will surprise you with His presence in unexpected moments, through whatever this season brings for you. That’s the gift I wish for you!
Merry Christmas Lori! November is my hard month being that's when I lost my mother. It's been 12 years and I still miss her everyday. I am looking forward to your next release. Have you been thinking of your next story?
Blessings
My next three or four! Yes, I hope to start writing a new book (that's actually a little bit started already but has been on the back burner for a long while now) in January. Missing my Dad is hard, but in its way sweet too. It's given more depth and meaning to this time of year. May it be so for you too, and all who have loved ones safely tucked away in heaven.
Thank you for sharing such a personal story. I often think it is a blessing that we don't know when last visits happen. It allows you to be in the moment rather than fretting about the future. And, here on earth, this moment is all we are guaranteed. Have a wonderful Christmas.
And we can't live our whole lives in that emotional extreme–always thinking about it being the last time–anyway. Though it's good to think about it from time to time. Have a blessed Christmas!
What a joyous Christmas letter! I'm glad you have a breather here–but also glad for your hard work and successes! I just love that pic of you 'n your dad—that is very special. I look at him and remember listening to him sing when you shared it with us gals—awww, what a treasure! Enjoy Brian, Gwen, and everything else God blesses you with during the holydays… I love you!
That's a great memory for me too, Patti. Have a blessed Christmas. I miss and love you too!
What a precious post, Lori. Merry Christmas to you!
And to you, my friend!
Thank you for sharing your heart with us, Lori ! 🙂 It is truly appreciated and I too pray for you that the Lord will continue to work through you to speak to the hearts of your readers. Have a blessed season and every good gift that comes from above! 🙂
Thank you, Manuela. You have been such an encouragement this year. Have a Merry Christmas! And thank you so much for that specific prayer.
Merry Christmas Lori! Loved this glimpse into your heart. Praying blessings for you now & in the coming year!
Thank you, Ruth! Prayers back to you for a blessed Christmas and New Year, and beyond.
Sniff. Even though I know this story, it still makes me so sad. But so happy, too. And don't think for one minute that your dad isn't sitting there with Jesus saying "Yeah, that's my girl."
I often think about stuff like that. 🙂