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*Today's post is written by my friend, bestselling author Shannon Popkin! I've been reading her new book Control Girl with my morning devotions and can't recommend it highly enough. I'm delighted that she's here today to share with you! Stay tuned until the end of this blog post for details on a give-away! One day, when my kids were preschoolers, we had a bat stuck between our sliding glass door and the screen door. Its evil-looking face was right up against the glass, and with its expanded wings it looked like it was hissing curses at us.  I wanted this bat gone. I told my husband so, in no uncertain terms. The following afternoon, I asked, “So what did you do with the bat?” I had envisioned him beating the thing to death with a shovel and burying it six feet under. But he said, “Oh, I just tapped the screen and it fell off into the grass.” “You WHAT???!” I exclaimed in disbelief, leaping to my feet. Just then our toddler picked up something from the yard to put in his mouth. It was too much. I ran screeching into the yard like a crazy person and swooped up little Cole, then hollered for the other kids to come inside right that instant. What sort of man sends his own children out into a bat infested yard?!  I was incredulous. I was furious. I was indignant. As I scrubbed the kids’ fingers and toes and washed Cole’s mouth out, my husband wandered inside. I stamped my foot and ordered him to get outside and search for that bat! “Shannon, that’s ridiculous,” he said, rolling his eyes. “That bat is long gone.” “Did you see it fly away? Did you? Did you?” I was leaning forward with my eyes bulging, my finger jabbing the air. I’m sure I looked quite lovely. Knowing things would only escalate from here, my husband went out and began pacing back and forth across our yard. It’s one of those ugly “Control Girl” memories I wish I could forget. Craving Control No bat ever turned up in our yard. What did turn up, however—with ever increasing intensity—was my anger, anxiety, disrespect, and obsessive perfectionism. And as ugly as those things are, there was something even uglier at their root: A deep, unhealthy craving for control. I didn’t think of myself as controlling. I was too focused on the things that needed to be controlled! I find that many women are blind to their own struggle with control. We do see the problem in other people. And other people see it in us. But we tend to not think of ourselves as Control Girls. It’s probably because our intentions are so good! We’re not trying to frustrate or exasperate anyone. We’re just trying to make everything turn out “right” for the people we love, and the situations that we’re passionate about. But when we take matters into our own hands, and contend for our own version of a Happy Ending, we only make everyone (ourselves, included) miserable. Friend, are you a Control Girl? God never designed for you to shoulder the burden of trying to control everything. Doing so only brings out the worst in you. Control doesn’t belong to us; it belongs to God. He invites us to live accordingly. Exposing the Root Exposing my inner Control Girl—even to myself—was counterintuitive at first. I had grown comfortable with letting my control issues lurk in the dark, unswept corners of my heart’s basement. But if I was ever going to change, I had to face my hideous inner Control Girl. To do that, I developed a plan for shining a huge flashlight in her face. My “flashlight” is really a question, that I’ve learned to ask myself. Whenever I feel anger, fear, or anxiety rising, I ask, “Ok, Shannon. What are you trying to control here? Or what do you think you’re losing control of?” I find that often my anger, frustration, and anxiety are the result of my inner Control Girl stomping her foot and demanding control again. I’m erupting in anger because I’ve lost control over a person or situation. Or I’m in a fretting frenzy because I can’t stand to not have control. Using these emotional reactions as indicators of a deeper struggle has helped me shine a flashlight on my inner Control Girl.  Take the situation with the evil-looking bat, for instance. What was I most upset about? If I’m honest, I wasn’t throwing a fit over the actual threat of the bat. My kids had been playing out doors all morning, and if they had come across a bat in the yard, I have no doubt that they would have run to me in alarm. No, what I was really reacting to was a husband I couldn’t control. By stamping my foot and insisting that he pace back and forth in the yard, I was saying, “How dare you fail to be the protective daddy that I want for my children? That makes me feel insecure! It makes me worry that everything’s out of control! So to punish you and make sure this doesn’t happen again, I’m going to throw a disrespectful tantrum! I am demanding control!” A New Path I’ve taken the path of a Control Girl long enough to know that it never leads to the things I want in life. It doesn’t lead to security, because control seems to always slip from my grasp. It doesn’t bring peace, because I’m either fretting or throwing fits which create tension. And it doesn’t offer hope, because the Happy Ending I have all worked out in my head is just an illusion. Thankfully, Jesus came to lead Control Girls like me down a different path. Because of Jesus, we can find freedom from that bent we have toward sin. We can retrain our hearts to say no to ourselves and yes to God. For the Control Girl, here’s what that means. We cannot continue to give in to that frantic, urgent voice of our inner Control Girl, saying, “You have to do something! You have to do it right now!” We must  stop running ahead and trying to make everything turn out right, according to our own small, limited perspectives. Rather than insisting on having control, we have to choose—in big ways and small—to surrender control to God. “But wait,” you say. “Does this mean I just ignore the bats flung into my yard or shrug off a less-than-careful husband?” Perhaps you’re facing situations that make my bat story seem rather insignificant. Giving God control doesn’t mean that we cast off responsibility to parent well or live responsibly. And it doesn’t mean that we opt out of working through differences or problems with our husbands or others. The Jesus Girl just approaches these challenges with a new mindset. Rather than desperately clawing after control, she has a settled peace knowing that nothing has slipped from God’s hand or escaped His attention. He is God, and she can trust Him—even with a husband who doesn’t take care of bats the way she would like. Surrender Surrender isn’t easy. It’s a gritty, uphill climb. But a lifestyle of surrender leads to peace—knowing  that God’s in control, and freedom—knowing that I don’t have to be. The steady climb of surrender, saying as Jesus did, “Not my will but yours be done,” is what turns me from Control Girl to Jesus Girl. Friend, are your shoulders sagging under the strain of trying to control everything? What are you fretting or angry about? What is God asking you to surrender to Him? Won’t you lay down your burden of control, and find rest?  Lord, I am so thankful that I am not in control, and that You are. Please help me to live like both of these are true. In author and speaker, Shannon Popkin’s new book, Control Girl: Lessons on Surrendering Your Burden of Control from Seven Women in the Bible, she mines the stories of seven Control Girls in the Bible for lessons on control, ourselves, and God. Find more from Shannon here. Purchase her book at Amazon, ChristianBook, or BarnesandNoble. Give-Away! For details on a grand prize give-away valued at more than $100, visit here!  

Decades before Marie Antoinette entered the scene, France was already in a desperate position. In 1714, the nation lost a thirteen-year war which had drained the royal coffers and disillusioned most of its military. Soldiers returning home had a hard time finding work. The weather hadn’t been cooperating with the farmers, driving rural people in to the cities to find other ways of earning a living. The streets of Paris teemed with poor. The monarchy didn’t like it. Vagabonds and the unemployed were arrested and thrown into prisons to keep them off the street. Prostitutes, too, cycled in and out of jail, and back in, and back out again. The capital city was rife was poverty, crime, and vice. Meanwhile, the French colony of Louisiana was practically dormant. After being claimed for France in 1699, the War of Spanish Succession soon tied up all of France’s resources, leaving the military outposts in Louisiana so bereft they would have starved to death had friendly native Americans not fed them and allowed them to winter in their villages. Now, the French king decided it was time for Louisiana to refill the French treasury, the way Mexico’s riches were making Spain wealthy. At the time, the territory of Louisiana stretched from Rockies to the Appalachians, from the Gulf Coast to the Great Lakes. Populating it proved to be a monumental task they never really mastered. When not enough French volunteered to settle the land—despite promises of gold, silver, fertile land and abundant game—France forced immigration. “We believe that We can do nothing better for the good of our State than to condemn [convicts] to the punishment of being transported to our colonies . . . to serve as laborers.” ~Royal Policy of France, January 8, 17191 Prisoners sentenced to the galleys were commuted to Louisiana instead. To relieve overcrowded prisons, they also sent military deserters, prostitutes, vagabonds who had been plucked from the streets after curfew. Because the men needed women to reproduce new settlers, shiploads of orphans and female convicts were sent over. In September of 1719, 184 female convicts were told to choose grooms from the same number of male convicts. They were forced to marry in a mass wedding ceremony, shackled two-by-two, and put onto the ship that would take them to Louisiana. The forced colonization scheme grew so out-of-hand that Mississippi bandoliers even began pulling people from the streets if they could not prove their employment. Riots broke out between the people and those charged with arresting them, resulting in injury and loss of life. After three years of the forced immigration (1719-1722), the crown finally decreed it unlawful. By then, however, Jean-Baptiste Bienville, governor of Louisiana, had his hands full managing the settlers France had sent. “It is most disagreeable for an officer in charge of a colony to have nothing more for its defense than a bunch of deserters, contraband salt dealers, and rogues who are always ready not only to desert you but also to turn against you.” ~Sieur Jean-Baptist Le Moyne de Bienville, 17192 It was under these conditions and with these challenges that Bienville founded New Orleans. With such a fascinating historical backdrop, I could not resist telling the tale of the people who struggled to survive and settle this town. The Mark of the King will bring you right into the middle of it all. Enjoy! Psst! For a free excerpt, video pronuncation guide and give-away (open til Feb. 16, 2017), hop over to my previous blog post here! For further reading: To learn more about this colorful chapter in American (and French) history, I’ll direct you to the two books which proved so helpful to me in my own research: Building the Devil’s Empire: French Colonial New Orleans by Shannon Lee Dawdy, and Indians, Settlers & Slaves in a Frontier Exchange Economy by Daniel H. Usner. Sources: 1. The Louisiana Purchase Bicentennial Series in Louisiana History, Volume 1: The French Experience in Louisiana, edited by Glenn R. Conrad. (Lafayette, LA: Center for Louisiana Studies, University of Southwestern Louisiana), 115. 2. Ibid., 132.

Four years ago, I shared this  poignant Christmas song on the blog, in the wake of the shooting at Sandy Hook, and the aftermath of Hurricane Sandy. But now in 2016, the words are just as meaningful as ever. It's been a long, hard year, hasn't it? And if there is anything that personal or national hardships teach us, it's the simple fact that we need a Savior. This Christmas, as we celebrate Jesus' birth, may we remember that Immanuel, God with us, is still here. The Christmas song "I Heard the Bells on Christmas Day" is a powerful reminder of that truth, with words by Henry Longfellow, and music by John Calkin. The lyrics were first penned in the midst of the horrors of our Civil War, a song which seems especially fitting this year. God is not dead, nor does he sleep... Take a moment to enjoy Casting Crowns rendition of this classic song below. Now let's scroll back in time and take a look at how this song was born. During the Civil War, the poet Henry Wadsworth Longfellow was informed by a letter dated March 14, 1863, that his oldest son Charles Appleton Longfellow had left home to join the Union army--without Henry's blessing. The letter said, in part: "I have tried hard to resist the temptation of going without your leave but I cannot any longer," he wrote. "I feel it to be my first duty to do what I can for my country and I would willingly lay down my life for it if it would be of any good." By November, he was severely wounded in the Battle of New Hope Church (in Virginia) during the Mine Run Campaign. Coupled with the recent loss of his wife Frances, who died as a result of an accidental fire, Longfellow was inspired to write "Christmas Bells" on Christmas Day, 1863. Henry's personal tragedy was wrapped in the national tragedy of the nation's civil war. The lyrics are below. The fourth and fifth verses you'll find here refer directly to the Civil War and are usually left out of the traditional Christmas song. I heard the bells on Christmas day Their old familiar carols play, And wild and sweet the words repeat Of peace on earth, good will to men. And thought how, as the day had come, The belfries of all Christendom Had rolled along the unbroken song Of peace on earth, good will to men. Till ringing, singing on its way The world revolved from night to day, A voice, a chime, a chant sublime Of peace on earth, good will to men. Then from each black, accursed mouth The cannon thundered in the South, And with the sound The carols drowned Of peace on earth, good-will to men! It was as if an earthquake rent The hearth-stones of a continent, And made forlorn The households born Of peace on earth, good-will to men! And in despair I bowed my head “There is no peace on earth,” I said, “For hate is strong and mocks the song Of peace on earth, good will to men.” Then pealed the bells more loud and deep: “God is not dead, nor doth He sleep; The wrong shall fail, the right prevail With peace on earth, good will to men.” The hope Longfellow found among crisis can still be ours today. "For to us a child is born, to us a son is given; and the government shall be uponhis shoulder, and his name shall be called Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace. Of the increase of his government and of peace there will be no end, on the throne of David and over his kingdom, to establish it and to uphold it with justice and with righteousness     from this time forth and forevermore. The zeal of the Lord of hosts will do this" (Isiaha 9:6-7). Merry Christmas!

In one month plus one day, The Mark of the King officially releases! Can you tell I'm just a little excited about this? :) Some people have already been reading the book through NetGalley, and it's so fun to see their reviews start popping up on Goodreads. (See what they thought of the book here!)  Today I'm delighted to share with you a six-minute video I hope will be come in handy when it's your turn to read the book! Because almost all my characters are French settlers in Louisiana, they naturally have French names. I tried to choose names that we English-speakers wouldn't stumble over when reading, but as you can see from this video, I had the wrong idea of how to say several of them, myself. Join me in this tutorial as my French sister-in-law Audrey sets me straight. Click below to begin watching. Did any of these pronunciations surprise you? 

I'm so delighted to hand over this blog space to author Amanda Dykes in just a moment. I've gotten to know her over the course of the past year or two as we have worked together on The Message in a Bottle Romance Collection, a set of five novellas written by the two of us, along with Joanne Bischof, Heather Day Gilbert, and Maureen Lang. This month, Amanda is gifting all of us with a free ebook of her Christmas novellette, Bespoke, so I invited her to come tell us about it. Below, she shares straight from her heart... I’m staring at this screen, at the carefully-laid plans for this blog post that I’ve been adding to all week, and wondering why it won’t come together. The plan is in my head, but I can’t lasso the words long enough to capture them. So I think—if it’s alright with you, I’ll just gently lay those plans aside, and instead share with you my heart. Here goes… A few years back, I wrote a story about a girl (Aria) and her father (Giovanni St. John). A tale of the tender but scarred terrain of their lives and the unexpected beauty found there in the brokenness. There are other things too—bicycles, blacksmithery, a secret symphony, a bundle of Christmas wonder… but looking at it right now, it’s that idea of the scarred terrain, destined for redemption, etched in my thoughts. You see, and I’ll mention this corner of my life just briefly only in order to share a little about where I’m coming from—parts of it hit home very closely for me this season. I’m living just such a story of a girl (me) and her father (who went home to Heaven this autumn). I’m not Aria, and my father was nothing like Giovanni St. John (other than being musically brilliant), but losing my Dad has my thoughts freshly rooting into the idea of redemption and beauty in the midst of heartbreak. Broken places heal, this I know. And the scars left behind tell stories. Of what happened, yes. But also—maybe even more than that? Of the One who knit that torn place back together, fashioned something beautiful of it. Long about the middle of that Christmas tale, there’s one little line that holds the heartbeat of the story: “…scars are places made strong again. They don’t function like they did before, but they’re strong for something. Something that matters.” (From Bespoke: a Tiny Christmas Tale) I got curious about that little word, “scar”, and looked it up. It’s from the Greek word eskhara, which literally means “hearth, fireplace”. A hearth—a holder of comfort, life, warmth. Could our scars—seen and unseen—embody such things? Could the most shattered places in our lives, when cradled in the scarred hands our Healer-God, be the places that offer the most comfort and hope to others if we dare to let Him use us in that way? Pondering these things, it struck me this morning as I was reading, and happened upon this quote: “…somehow there is good brokenness that grows out of every scar and wound we will ever suffer.” (Ann Voskamp, The Broken Way, p. 56). It’s the age-old, everlasting story of transformation and redemption, which I—and maybe you, too?-- am holding fast to it this year. It was my greatest hope when I wrote Bespoke that the tale of unlikely transformation might point to the greatest story of all eternity: God’s redemption in our lives. After all… Aria and James may have made something beautiful from something broken in the story, but we… we get to live the real miracle of beauty for ashes. “[He will]…bestow on them a crown of beauty instead of ashes…” Isaiah 61:3 Bespoke: a Tiny Christmas Tale is a free download for just a few days more--until the end of November.--at Amazon, BarnesandNoble, and other retailers. If you’ve already downloaded it, I do so hope you’ll enjoy spending a wintry afternoon warming your heart by the Blacksmith’s forge or the Silent House’s hearth, listening in on the fishermen’s Christmas concert at Trouble Cliff. And if you haven’t had a chance to grab the book yet, may I invite you in to this enchanting Victorian island in the English Channel for a tale of hope and healing? The symphony is waiting… About Amanda: Amanda Dykes is a drinker of tea, a dweller of Truth, and a spinner of hope-filled tales. An emerging voice in Christian fiction, her novelette, Bespoke: a Tiny Christmas Tale, released to critical acclaim from Publishers Weekly, Readers’ Favorite, and more. She’s especially excited to be a part of the Message in a Bottle Romance Collection releasing this March, right alongside Jocelyn and four other incredibly talented co-authors!