life. faithful.

 I've never been a people person, but I've always been a people pleaser. I don't like not being liked, which is probably the biggest reason it's hard for me every time I click the "Publish" button and put my writing out there to be judged. My writing feels like so much a part of me that if anyone has anything negative to say about it, I feel like that is a blow to me. When I released my first book, the review that stands out in my mind said, "too long winded and boring." There were good reviews, but those words are seared in my brain and come back to mind almost every time I try to put pen to paper. Here's the crazy thing, though--the people who mean the most to me, the ones I have the most respect for? They don't hold back when they talk to me. They call me on the things I'm doing wrong, they tell me when I've messed up, and they don't let me just gloss over the bad parts. When I think about them, though, it's not the harsh w...

Lydia closed her eyes at the strike of the hammer against nail, wishing she could close her ears against the agonized cries. She wasn't supposed to be here. Abba didn't want her to see the crucifixions, and she had never had a desire to go against his wishes in the past. Today, though, something was different. She couldn't get that man's eyes out of her mind. She had gone home after the rooster crowed this morning, trying to forget the prisoner who had been taken before Caiaphas, but that had proven impossible. Neighbors had stopped by to tell her father that Jesus of Nazareth was on trial, speaking in hushed tones of Pharisees and miracles and prophecies. All those things had piqued her curiosity, so when her mother had asked her to go to aunt's to borrow some necessitates before the Sabbath, she found herself drawn to a place she had always avoided. As they lifted the man to the top of a cross, Lydia took note of the sign above his head, placed there so every...