This is a blog article for those who believe that the Word of God is completely true and that we are to obey what God says in it. If you are not a Bible-believing Christian, this article isn’t for you. I have not written it to have transgender debates. Thank you.
I live in the pacific northwest.
I love it here. It’s gorgeous, the trees are more numerous than the stars that can be seen in the cloudy sky, and the summers are to die for – light up until 10 pm at night and most days a perfect 75 degrees. I love the lakes, the hiking, and the views. I also love my church, Bible study community, and neighborhood. I love that the Christians are who they say they are, and homeschooling and attending a mega church isn’t cool just because you live in the Bible belt and everyone else is doing it. It’s what you actually believe. Even the Christian youth seem different.
But living in the pacific northwest means that homosexuality is acceptable and rampant. I’ll never forget going on a date with my husband into downtown Seattle, and seeing a homeless woman on the ground with all of her belongings strewn about her, being ignored by a pair of sharply-dressed men holding hands, waiting to cross the street. I wish I had snapped a picture of it. If that doesn’t say Seattle, I don’t know what else does.
In our teeny community a drive from Seattle, we mostly avoid running into this kind of thing, and for a mom of three girls, two in elementary school and one a toddler, that makes me feel relieved, which in turn makes me feel a little bit guilty.
Better to just not look and pretend it’s not happening, right?
But yesterday I was out shopping with the oldest daughter, who is almost eight years old, and we ran into a Taco Bell up north of us in a slightly more urban area. After placing our order and asking for the code for the bathroom – proof you’re not in Kansas anymore, Toto – I was flirted with by the cashier.
Who was very obviously a woman.
Now I can’t tell whether or not she was actually a lesbian, but a lot of the signs were there, and nothing about the exchange left me feeling at all comfortable. I laughed, motioning to my daughter at my side, making a point of saying, “I’m a mom of three, so it’s nice to hear such a compliment. Thank you.” But the serious stare on her face and her insistence on commenting on my physical appearance went a long way to making me want to hightail it out of the restaurant. Still, I wished her a wonderful day, and smiled at her as if she were any other woman, thanking her for her high praise.
My daughter had no idea anything was up, only knowing that someone kept calling her mom “really, really pretty” a couple of times, as well as other chatter that meant nothing to her. We moved on.
But what if she had realized the woman just might be flirtatious with other women? What if something made her vaguely uncomfortable too?
It’s not going to take very long for her to figure this kind of thing out. Because that’s where we live.
I don’t think Christians are supposed to move out of every liberal area and create mini conservative heavens-on-earth in the Bible belt or podunk hick towns out in the middle of nowhere. I don’t think that’s being salt and light. (John 17:14-16) Now, obviously, things can get so bad that it’s just time to protect your own and leave. And that decision – that things have hit So Bad Level – is totally up to you and what God’s telling you. But how are we supposed to evangelize these Christ-apathetic or even Christ-hostile places if we don’t actually live there once in a while?
I actually do homeschool my kids, and I look for lots of ways to protect them, but not when it comes to who she runs into in daily life, and learning to love no matter what.
I see a lot of absolute, throwdown, hogwash nonsense (my years in the south are showing) coming out of the media and the liberal left these days. They have been bullies, pushing their homosexual crazytalk down Christians’ throats, badgering them, twisting them into corners, taking away their businesses and their rights to free speech. Especially here in the pacific northwest.
I, along with many Christians, often press the “angry” button as a Facebook response to these posts. I very often shake my head in total shock and horror and call it “insanity.”
And it is insanity.
But it’s just so not the first time the church has been up against outright insanity. Back in the time of Nero – who actually was insane – Christians were thrown to lions to be torn to shreds in front of a cheering crowd. Real live people got a rush watching real live people’s limbs ripped apart, blood everywhere, while the beasts gorged on their flesh. All because those people believed in Jesus. Yeah, that’s insanity.
(And I’ve got to stop right here, people, and be real with you. When you exclaim your love for Game of Thrones… you look like a crazed Colosseum-goer. There’s sick stuff on that show. Maybe no one’s really dying, but those are real naked bodies, and they’re being exploited on national television every day. And you’re putting that kind of poisonous lion-eating adrenaline into your bloodstream and created-in-God’s-image soul, desensitizing yourself to that kind of exploitation of women. And if you can get a kick out of a show that glorifies abuse of men, women, and children in that way, then you’re not safe for my kids. Please let me know if you love Game of Thrones so I can never, ever ask you to babysit. We Contes will love the heck out of you, but you’re not going to be left unattended with my daughters.)
In the time of Hitler, Jewish people were gassed en masse, and children tortured in horrendous medical experiments, and many left in prison camps to starve to death all because they weren’t of Caucasian European descent. That’s insanity too.
Even now, across the globe from you in your comfy pjs and your Diet Pepper and your takeout hamburger, people in other countries are raped, burned to death, kidnapped, and tortured for converting away from Islam or Hinduism. That’s also insanity.
Or how about the fact that we are murdering our unborn infants by the millions, and that abortion was the leading cause of death WORLDWIDE last year at 41 MILLION infants slaughtered? Utter, utter, depraved insanity.
So why are we surprised and wrathful and icked out by transgenderism? It’s abuse our fellow Americans are doing personally to themselves this time – personally torturing their own bodies in ways that are truly biologically impossible – in yet another attempt to stick up their middle finger at God. They’re not really hurting you, are they, Christian? They’re surgically knifing themselves.
And they suffer and pay for it.
A recent study showed that 41% of all transgender people have attempted suicide. And many, many go through with it. That’s compared to 4.6% of all of the rest of the general population who tries to kill themselves. A documentary I watched tells the graphic details about the sex change operations and how rarely they succeed, how they mess with you in horrific ways, and how so many regret such drastic changes that stunt their future marriages and bodies’ capabilities permanently. There’s even an entire “underground railroad”-like ministry online helping people who are miserable and want to “detransition.” Youtube is full of anonymous people talking about how miserable they were trying to live life as the opposite gender.
These are deeply confused, deeply hurting people. People who don’t feel right in their own skin, people who don’t feel like they even have an identity (which is a horrifying thought), people who notice when the look in your eye changes from, “Have a nice day!” to “Oh no. That’s a man.” And suddenly you can’t keep eye contact and you want to get away as fast as possible.
Many who were abused before puberty by the same sex, resulting in feeling lost and confused when hormones kick in and they know they’ve only ever felt pleasure doing stuff with a man. People who have had abusive parents of both genders, people who are told their emotions and interest in art isn’t “manly enough.” Or their less feely personalities, leadership skills, and faces and bodies aren’t “attractive” or “feminine enough.” People who look at the older generation or the way society treats them, and decide, “I’d rather be the opposite gender than be anything like you.”
And a host of other reasons, countless reasons, that, frankly, you and I will never guess.
Also, regardless of what Gillette has or hasn’t done in the past, an ad like that is aired, and most men are in uproar. When, in reality, if you look closely, the ad’s simply telling men to be decent human beings who try to love and care for others. That maybe “manhood” isn’t about always barbecuing and wrestling in the grass and watching porn on the TV with your friends because boys will be boys. Maybe manhood means being affectionate like John once in a while, writing Psalms like David, caring for small children like Jesus, or weeping with the women when your best friend dies like when he lost Lazarus. It also means slaying your Goliaths like David and averting your eyes so you do not lust like Job and being a wise ruler in your household like Solomon and running a profitable business that protects the poor like Boaz. Let’s not forget the balance here. Masculinity is open to all types and gifts God gives men. Femininity is open to all personalities and love languages God gives women.
Your son writes poetry and cries at other people’s funerals and is diplomatic without feeling the need to fight it out with his fists? It’s not because he was meant to be a woman. It might mean he has a heart like Christ. Your daughter grows up to be a judge and her “serious voice” can make grown men under her shake in their boots and she slays all her own personal dragons in a no-nonsense way? Probably means you were blessed with some amazing biblical Deborah, not that she’s too “butch” to be a lady.
Transgenders can be broken, abused, misunderstood, confused, and lonely people who have assumed they were created wrong because they’ve been told so by a society that has one pigeon-holed way of defining human beings.
Jesus said “Love thy neighbor.” (Mark 12:31)
Did He mean, “Be all for thy neighbor’s sex change and tell them you’re all approve their gay marriage?” Absolutely not. Let’s not throw out God’s Word here. (Romans 1) That’s sending unbelievers to damnation just the same as if we ran scared and never talked to them in the first place. But He also sat with the woman at the well and told her all about the rich, lifegiving water she was thirsty for before calling out her sexual promiscuity in a kind, subtle, and no-frills way. (John 4)
Be aware that the people you run into in your grocery store probably aren’t the leftist media, ready to bully your kids at the checkout line, wanting to expose your children to weirdness at Taco Bell, and looking for a bomb they can toss into your neighborhood. A lot of them are deeply emotional, sensitive people. They’re just folks who need to hear the gospel and repent of their sin – fear of man, discontentment, ingratitude, bitterness, thinking God is wrong, lack of love, and unbelief – all sins you and I commit daily.
Can you imagine raising children to know clear Scripture truth and to see instantly how to lovingly apply it to our transgender neighbors?
When I see a transgender person, I now see someone with a big “I’m going to try to commit suicide” label plastered on their forehead, because odds are, almost 1 in 2 will. And others admit, in anonymous studies, that they at least think about it daily. How shocking would it be for the adults in our churches to go up to them instead and ask them what they think about Christ? Like, hey, we care about you and your pain and we think you’re worth sharing the gospel with just as much as the people in Timbuktu where we’ve sent missionaries.
If you saw your neighbor standing in his house while it was on fire, even if he wasn’t calling for help, wouldn’t you care enough to either yank him out, or at least call to him from the outside? Wouldn’t you dial 911 and shout for help, doing all you could to protect him? These people are lost, and have no idea the flames are licking so close. If we run scared and angry from the insanity, who do they have left? Your transgender neighbors are dying – by society’s twisted brainwashing, and ultimately their own.
Let’s love and save them, okay?
My mom will be embarrassed by this post.
But the good kind of embarrassed, I hope. And it’s all well and right to good-embarrass a godly person once in a while.
We just finished studying Romans in BSF this year, and Paul good-embarrassed a boatload of people at the end of Romans 16 – Paul knew how to give praise and affirmation, and how to be thankful.
And that’s what I want to do today, on Mothers’ Day Eve.
When I first became a mother back in 2011, Mothers’ Day quickly had all sorts of significance. I had been cut open and stitched back together to bring my husband’s and my DNA into the world, and so I deserved to be celebrated, dagnabbit! With my three-month-old daughter in tow, on my first official Mothers’ Day, we revisited the arboretum where we got engaged and had pictures taken. My mom was there too, probably taking the pictures, but the day was suddenly about me.
I was twenty-four years old and thought I was the best mom in the world. The doc had diagnosed a serious dairy allergy in my infant and I was totally off dairy to nurse her. She was three months old, and I knew everything.
Here I am now, seven years later, three little girls later, and all I’m thinking is Heeeeeeeelp. I know nothing. I never knew anything. I’m going to fail them. I’m already failing them. How did my Mom do it, and what made her so gloriously wonderful?
But now she lives across the U.S. and I can’t hit the arboretum with her, or stop by on a bad day and cry, or throw myself into her arms and say thank you about two hundred times.
Now, in 2018, this day is all about her to me.
My mom was the golden middle child of five. And I don’t mean she was perfect. I mean she was literally golden. The only blondie in a household of brunettes. The only one that really looked like her own mom.
She was friendly and outgoing, a bit of a follower, and super cute. She wanted to be well-liked, and she tried to please everyone.
One day at the end of high school, she was invited to Young Life, and there she confessed her sins and embraced Jesus Christ’s death and resurrection on the cross.
While she got her teaching degree, she worked all over doing numerous fun and temporary jobs during the summers, including a stint at the Von Trapp family lodge in Vermont. She was an evangelist, a people-person, and cheerful. She sparkled and enjoyed life. All of the pictures I’ve ever seen of her show her smiling broadly, happy, purposeful. She’s the perfect picture of a healthy ENFJ.
One time, in Boston, she took a teaching job that involved kids on parole. By the start of the year, numerous teachers had already quit, but my mom hung on. On the outside, she doesn’t look tough – the woman cries at practically every touching movie we watch, and numerous books as well – but she has guts on the inside that people always underestimate about her. And mostly she has a gigantic, whale-sized heart. She loved those difficult kids when no one else would.
Wait, I’m talking about my siblings and me. Did you think I meant the kids on parole? Oh yeah, she loved them too. *wink*
She stuck that class through and won them over that year. She also spent years teaching special needs children and adored them.
After moving to Colorado to live with a dear college friend who had just had a difficult miscarriage, she met my dad who was stationed nearby in the army. They met at Sunday School, because my mom was always at church, rain or shine. She was also planning on heading to Japan for short-term ministry when they met, and she planned her wedding in a short space and time before leaving for overseas.
Six years later, after my dad got out of the army and graduated from Harvard, my mom had me. After that, the rest of us came quickly, four children in five years.
Mom stayed home and became the world’s best housewife. She had a schedule for everything on her multiple whiteboards, and she was as predictable as the sun rising in the mornings. Everything had a place, everything was secure, everything was safe. She made us feel like our world was all right.
Mom got excited about homeschooling pretty early on, and started with me right away in kindergarten. As each younger sibling began school with us, she added to her own workload without a blink of the eye. Every once in a while, she’d beg for her fifteen minute nap in the middle of the day, but that’s only because she got up at five thirty in the morning to meet with God one-on-one for hours. And could she nap! She could go out like a light at a moment’s notice, in a public place even, without pausing a second. I’ll never forget the time the piano teacher found her asleep on a chair in the other room, mouth wide open. Mom is a queen napper. She has no ability to stay up late. She’ll get this fuzzy delirious look and won’t listen to a word you are saying. As a teen, I should’ve asked her for big bad things at that time of night. She wouldn’t have remembered saying yes. *wink*
Faithfully taking us to the very best of Bible studies, to all of our sports, to all of our friends’ houses, and laying down her lives for ours, Mom didn’t have much time for herself outside of her home, her children, and her Lord. But she led Bible studies and neighborhood groups, started get-togethers and women’s meet-and-greets. She could get to know anyone. Meeting new people is her favorite pleasure in life. We used to groan and joke every time someone randomly started telling Mom their life story. She knows the grocery checkers by name, will pray for their children by name, and starts conversations with all the other moms at the sports games and doctors’ offices. No one is off-limits to Mom when it comes to a conversation, and she knows how to slip Jesus in when you aren’t expecting it.
Mom can disarm anyone. I’ve never met a single person who doesn’t like her. People walk away warmed from the inside out because she’s the least intimidating, most caring person you’ll ever come across. And when she says she’ll pray for you, she means it, in her numerous organized prayer journals, and on down on her well-used knees.
Mom used to randomly say, “I love you, Rachael Lynn,” using our full names, just because she felt gushy inside.
The only conflict I can really remember us having is when I would blitz through my chores like a madwoman, wanting to get to my entertainment and play, and Mom would go back over the dust with her finger, calling out my lack of thoroughness. Or the times I’d get far too creative and not really do the work she wanted me to do. Or the time she’d use her razor sharp discernment and call me out on something spiritually that I’d delusionally insist wasn’t true. Or the times she’d try to correct my early writing and I was too arrogant to submit to it. Sometimes we’d call her Scrooge, which she hated, because she suggested doing away with Christmas presents and just focusing on Christ. *wink*
She is in my top two favorite people to be around, including my husband.
And then I got to my late teens and early twenties, and I wanted my friends, wanted to my freedom, wanted my husband. And I was moving too fast and being too foolish and getting too obsessed. And Mom was frightened about the technology and “Inter-web” and “intelligent phones” and things that might take me away from the Lord and their home. I kept silent, expecting her to handle things badly, lying to her and being rebellious deep in my heart. But when my sin came out, she was nothing but forgiving and gracious, adapting in ways I had not thought possible, embracing the future God had for me, counseling and guiding me, and I slowly began to repent and grow.
No matter what interests take my fancy, Mom is interested too. Mom listens, researches, studies, and embraces. No matter how weird. No matter how odd.
She insisted on doing all of the gardening and mowing herself, and taught us how to run a home independently by age twelve. She took us on hikes and sang us the bear song and the skinny-dipping song. She gave us St. Patrick’s Day treasure hunts and folding-laundry-movie nights. She took us on all-expenses-paid vacations with her inheritance money and put little gifts on our car dashboards. She held hour of prayer days and taught us hymns. She let us sleep in her bed when Dad was away on business trips, even when we kicked her in the middle of the night. She taught us about the human skeletal system, even when it made her feel like passing out and she had to sit with her head between her knees. We made meals for church members, hosted strangers, and prayed for persecuted nations. She taught us to see outside ourselves.
She does everything well. She would insist I’m lying when I say that, so I have to admit she’s never had a great relationship with technology. She’d gush and gush about how patiently I taught her how to use a computer, but to me, she was easy. I’m pretty sure I first realized that I loved teaching from all of the pleasant hours spent showing her how to minimize a window. *wink*
Mom reads every single one of my novels as I write it, giving few critiques, but all excitement, loving and rooting on my characters, lecturing me for writing something that keeps her up too late at night unable to put it down.
When I got married and moved away, Mom still visits and simply cleans my house, attending my children’s sports and activities, even grocery shopping together. When she visits, we do life together, and she’s like my second set of hands. We work together, talking until my throat hurts, best friends sharing our souls. We can talk Christ for days on end. I never tire of being in her presence.
I, as her child, rise up and call her blessed. Many women have done virtuously, but she excels them all. I truly strain in my head to find faults with my mom. They simply don’t exist. She walks more humbly and closely with God than another human being I’ve ever met – and I would know! She loves Jesus with a realness and dearness that I long to emulate, and she loves people in complete purity. She is gracious, giving, non-judgmental, flexible, loyal, and pleasant. She laughs easily, she serves continually, and she is wise. She is over and beyond humble, and she has suffered long. Her faith does not waver.
If I could be half of who my mom is, I would be satisfied. Thank You, Lord, for putting a spiritual giant so closely in my life as my very best friend.
I love you, Mom. Happy Mothers’ Day.
We’ve been praying through Voice of the Martyrs prayer calendar – praying for a different persecuted country every day. This has been very eye-opening to my two oldest
girls – children who’ve known peace, safety, and security all their lives.
Today we studied a passage on heaven and Jesus’s second coming. At the end of the passage, Paul tells people to encourage each other with these words. I mentioned that thinking about eternity in heaven was probably very encouraging to those being persecuted, and my oldest daughter got a lightbulb idea from the Lord.
“Let’s write a note of encouragement to them about heaven!” she said.
So that became our English assignment for the day. ❤
I copied down exactly what both girls wanted to say. These are 100% their words, not mine. As we look for a place or person to mail these, I thought I’d share them here as well. ❤
Dear friend in Christ,
I’m writing to you because I want you to know that Christ is always with you and you can depend on Him to always be there. Even if your enemy is hurting you, you can know that Jesus, our Lord and Savior, will always be there in your heart and around you. You can know that at some point you will be in heaven and you will enjoy it. You will get to see the Lord who you’ve been waiting for – the One you believe in! If any of your Christian family members have been hurt or persecuted or killed, you will be able to see them up in heaven too. Just remember that Jesus, your Lord, is still with you, and you can depend on Him to help you. Every day, in every way, He will always keep His eye on you, so that He knows what is happening. Everything that is happening to you is all in His sight and it is all for good. Even though you might be alone, you can still have the Holy Spirit in your heart and you can keep Him there. He will never leave or go away. You will never leave Him. You will always be in God’s arms. Even though we, in America, haven’t gone through the persecution you have, we still have a very bad sin of not focusing on God. 😦 We can learn from you because you and your family focus on God and keep up standing up for who you believe in.
R.S., 7 years old, USA
Dear friend in Christ,
God loves you and He will always be there for you, no matter how hard your troubles are. He’s there with you! When Jesus comes back again, there will be a great celebration. He will take all of the Christians up, and, if you are one, He will take you up too. 🙂 At the end of the world, God will create a new earth and it will be part of heaven. Everyone will be satisfied in heaven and there will be no sadness. There will be no anger. There will be no dying. Everything will be happy in heaven! Whenever you have a trouble, just pray to God and He will figure out a way to solve the problem. I will meet you in heaven too! 🙂
R.J., 5 1/2 years old, USA
Eleven-year-old Gem has traveled from his home planet of Topha to meet with ten extraordinary children, all sixteen and under. These children have been given the RJ Conte label of “Preciously Precocious” and are heroes of their own stories.
Gem, future possible savior of his fragile planet, is prepping to take on the planet’s core with the power of his mind. For motivation, he’s interviewing child heroes.
And now for the final installment of interviews! And make sure you check out each of their amazing stories – all of which are on Amazon – including Gem’s!
- Fontana “Footer” Davis, 11 years old, of Footer Davis Probably is Crazy by Susan Vaught
Gem: Do you prefer English or math?
Footer: I prefer anything Ms. Perry doesn’t teach. I really like English because Ms. Malone teaches it, and she gets me, you know? She didn’t even make me go to the office over that serial killer book.
Gem: (laughs) I get you there. Some of my supervisors’ minds are really awful and unkind places (I have telepathy). I prefer Soleil in every way.
Okay, you get a dingbat as a pet. What do you name it?
Footer: What’s a dingbat?
Gem: Anything you want it to be. A fictional pet. (grins)
Footer: If it’s anything like a walrus, don’t get it near me. Seriously. Walruses are creepy. If it looks like a kitty, I’d call her Dorothy for Dorothy Thompson, who was like the bravest, coolest journalist in history. I think I’ll be an investigative journalist. I like investigating stuff, and I plan to find these two kids who went missing from the farm behind my house.
Gem: (cheers) Go Footer! So what’s the bravest thing you’ve ever done?
Footer: I do a lot of brave things, like clean snake guts off bird feeders, look at pictures of walruses, and try to keep my friend Peavine’s little sister Angel from stealing all my books (she’s plotting my murder, no doubt), and show up in 5th period every day even though Ms. Perry is there (probably plotting my murder too).
Gem: (laughing harder) How you feel about walruses is how I feel about sloths. (shudder) Thanks, Footer! Stay alive! 🙂
Footer Davis is on the case when two kids go missing after a fire in this humorously honest novel that is full of Southern style.
Here are some things that are true about Footer Davis:
1. She has a BB gun named Louise.
2. Walruses freak her out.
3. Her mom has bipolar disorder.
But she wants you to know that it’s not that big a deal. She’s just Mom, and usually she’s fine except sometimes when she doesn’t take her pills. But right now what’s most important to Footer is what happened to those kids at the Abrams farm. See, there was a fire there a few nights ago, and those kids haven’t been seen since. Pretty sure they got burned up. What Footer and Peavine—that’s her best friend—want to know is who started the fire?
2. Blondelle “Blondie” McGhee, 9 years old, from Blondie McGhee: At Your Service by Ashley Eneriz
Gem: What do you believe about love?
Blondie: I really love being a detective, and I really love my dachshunds (a.k.a. wiener dogs), Emma and George – although George can be a pain in the behind most of the time! He has helped me solve several cases.
Gem: I wish I had a pet! So who do you get along better with: your mom or dad?
Blondie: Hmmm… That’s a tricky one. Both of my parents are pretty cool, but I am still on cloud nine from when my dad put together the most awesome surprise with clues.
Gem: I miss my parents. That’s really cool. So what’s the bravest thing you’ve ever done?
Blondie: Go into my school attic when some other girls told me it was haunted. I was scared of running into a ghost – or even worse, the principal – but I had no idea what kind of adventure I was really about to be in!
Gem: Now I want to know!
Got a crime?
Need a professional detective?
You’ve come to the right girl.
Blondie’s the name and solving cases at Graham Elementary is my game.
I promised I would never, ever solve a case for that meanie, Owen Thomas, but when he is accused of starting the crazy food fight and is about to be expelled, I am his only hope.
Can I wipe his name clean of mashed potatoes before the principal expels Owen for good?
3. Ruby Graves, 13 years old, from Healing Ruby by Jennifer H. Westall
Gem: Do you ever have a dream while you’re sleeping that makes you not want to wake up?
Ruby: Sometimes I dream about being with my daddy. He was strong and good to me, and I miss him like crazy. I dream I’m sitting at his feet again in front of the fire, listening to his deep voice read his Bible before breakfast. I wake from those dreams with a sad kind of joy, missing him so much, but knowing I’ll see him again someday.
Gem: I wish I could’ve met your dad. So, on a less sad note… who’s the most irritating person in your life? (laughs)
Ruby: I swear, I can’t pick just one. My brother Henry loves to pick on me, and I could just punch him in the mouth sometimes. But my oldest brother James might be even worse. At least Henry plays with me and makes me laugh. Ever since Daddy died, James acts like I’m a burden he has to carry to Timbuktu and back twice a day. Why, he even tried to marry me off just to get rid of me!
Gem: Wow. Maybe I’m glad now I never had brothers! So what’s the bravest thing you’ve ever done?
Ruby: I don’t see myself as brave. It just seems like there are times when God calls me to act, and doing so puts me in the middle of a storm, sometimes literally. I’ve learned to trust Him, even if it means running headlong into the storm, because He is in the storm. Nahum 1:3 says, “The Lord is slow to anger and great in power, and the Lord will by no means clear the guilty. His way is in the whirlwind and storm, and the clouds are the dust of His feet.” I don’t know why He calls me, I just know I have to obey. I’m not brave. I just choose to trust Him.
Gem: You have amazing faith, Ruby. I needed that. Thank you!
Ruby Graves, a young girl in Depression-era Alabama, faces the hardships of poverty and loss with as much faith as she can muster. At only the age of thirteen, she’s already lost a younger brother to illness, and now faces losing both her father and the boy who’s stealing her heart to illnesses as well. Armed with her beloved Scriptures, she prays daily for their healing, only to have her tender faith shattered by her father’s death. Through her pain, she’s able to connect with her long-lost Uncle Asa, who’s mere presence at his brother’s funeral brings murmurs of a scandalous past involving her parents and a prominent local pastor, Irwin Cass. When Ruby discovers that one of Asa’s many secrets is an ability to heal, and that she may be next in line for the “gift,” she vows to find the faith that has eluded her so far, a faith that could mean never losing loved ones again. But faith and doubt can’t reside in the same heart, not according to her father, and doubt is Ruby’s constant companion. As she struggles to find the true meaning of faith, she’s opposed at every turn by the pastor who would see her family destroyed and a community that can’t see deeper than the color of one’s skin. Through her search for a faith that could move mountains and a true understanding of her gift, can Ruby trust in a God that may require the ultimate sacrifice?
4. Chad Burnhill, 16 years old, from Angel-Lover by RJ Conte
Gem: Hey Chad! So I’m an INTP. What’s your Myers-Briggs type?
Chad: Hey. So that’s a really interesting question. For a long time, I was convinced I was an INFJ. I think I have two very strong J parents – workaholics, driven people. But in reality, I found out recently I’m actually INFP. It explains a bunch, including my depression and artistic creativity.
Gem: So we’re close in type, except you’re the mushy emotional version of me, eh? Okay, feeler, tell us a secret you’ve never told another soul.
Chad: Oh great. Now I’m going to feed into your perception that I’m a soft feely guy… I’m in love with Angelique Rose – this angel at my school. She’s not a literal angel, I don’t think… I mean, she sure looks like one with the blond curls and all… (coughs ) Something’s seriously different about her, and I’m going to figure it out.
Gem: Blondes, eh? I hear you on that one. (winks) What’s the bravest thing you’ve ever done?
Chad: Stepped foot in this mega church in my area. Walking into one of those religious places was absolutely terrifying. Then coming clean to my parents about what I thought later… Whew. I have a feeling I’m going to have to be really brave about some other things too because I have a feeling all’s not right in Angelique’s world…
Gem: Stay strong, man! We’re rooting for you!
Chad is a reclusive teenager whose thoughts are full of loneliness and suicide. The only thing that he obsesses over more than planning his own death is the nicest, sweetest, most beautiful girl in school. As he stalks her and watches her, he learns the truth about what she believes in and, in the process, finds Someone Else he did not expect.
Gem’s back to interview more children heroes – middle grade and young adult books that can be enjoyed by your kids. 🙂 Make sure to pick up books on Amazon that interest you, and feel free to share the interviews! And check out Gem’s own hero story as the sole savior of his dying planet of Topha here.
1. Sadie Larcen, 16 years old, from The Tethered World by Heather L.L. FitzGerald
Gem: What’s the best thing about being a kid?
Sadie: I’d have to say that the best thing about being a kid is the way you can quickly adapt to new circumstances. When you’re young, it’s easier to take life’s unforeseen plot twists and turn them into an adventure. My little sister Sophie definitely embraced the crazy things that happened to our family better than I did when our lives were first turned inside out. (laughs) But these days I actually get bored if something doesn’t stir the pot—or the plot—and break the monotony. I’m sixteen, which is still kind of a kid, right? These days there’s definitely a fairytale loving princess inside who wants to get out and find some excitement. Maybe even a little danger 😉
Gem: I’ll let you come save my planet, and take your monotony then! Ha! So what’s your dream job?
Sadie: I feel like my life is divided between “before the kidnapping” and “after the kidnapping.” Okay, it totally IS divided into those two parts. Who am I kidding? So, before everything I would have told you I wanted to be an author. Or maybe just a bookish English professor or something.
But now–NOW–my life, my location, my interests have all become, well . . . complicated. Though I’ve achieved one particular goal–that of being an author (see The Tethered World Chronicles for more on that. Haha!)–that particular accomplishment now feels like a small fish in a big pond. It was something I’d always assumed I’d do later in life. Instead, I actually set my family’s adventures down right after they occurred. (It was cheaper than therapy so, there’s that.)
ClaireLee’s life changes when she must take charge of her siblings after her mother becomes depressed from a difficult childbirth. Frightened by the way Mama sleeps too much and her crying spells during waking hours, ClaireLee just knows she’ll catch her illness like a cold or flu which hangs on through winter. ClaireLee finds comfort in the lies she tells herself and others in order to hide the truth about her erratic mother. Deciding she needs to re-invent herself, she sets out to impress a group of popular girls.
With her deception, ClaireLee weaves her way into the Lavender Girls Club, the most sophisticated girls in school. Though, her best friend Belinda will not be caught with the likes of such shallow puddles, ClaireLee ignores Belinda’s warnings the Lavenders cannot be trusted. ClaireLee drifts further from honesty, her friend, and a broken mother’s love, until one very public night at the yearly school awards ceremony. The spotlight is on her, and she finds her courage and faces the truth and then ClaireLee saves her mother’s life.
3. Bensin, 14 years old, from The Collar and the Cavvarach by Annie Douglass Lima
Eleven-year-old Gem has traveled from his home planet of Topha to meet with ten extraordinary children, all sixteen and under. These children have been given the RJ Conte label of “Preciously Precocious” and are heroes of their own stories.
Gem, future possible savior of his fragile planet, wanted to meet other inspiring young people: children who stop dragon trafficking, who protect their families when their mothers go through deep clinical depression, children that speak up to bullies and solve mysteries. Children that have the gift of healing and travel to distant planets like pilgrims. Children that defend fragile otherwordly life. Children that go underneath the ground to other worlds and compete in martial arts, children that fight slavery and mental illness.
We’re going to meet, interview, and talk to these ten Preciously Precocious in a three-part blog series. And make sure you check out each of their amazing stories – all of which are on Amazon!
- Amanda Greene, 10 years old, from The Gold by Krista Wagner
Gem: Who was your first crush?
Amanda: Elliott, the boy from E.T.!
Gem: I haven’t seen that one. I’m sure you’d think me an alien too. 😉 So what’s your favorite book of the Bible?
Gem: And now for the ultimate question. What’s the bravest thing you’ve ever done?
Amanda: Walked into a mysterious forest!
Gem: Now that sounds promising!
Ten-year-old Amanda is constantly teased and tormented in school. Her home life is less than satisfactory where her widower father, who is often away on business trips, leaves her in the care of her indifferent teenage sister. Worse, not a day goes by when Amanda doesn’t miss her mom. To escape reality, Amanda creates fantasy stories, but when she discovers a talking golden pebble, her imagined world turns into a new-fangled reality.
Gem: Tell us your most embarrassing story!
Rejoice: I forgot to watch the weather when I was harvesting seaweed. A storm blew me so far away from the colony that I got lost. I had to be rescued!
Gem: I’m glad you’re okay! So what do you think is the worst thing about growing up?
Rejoice: The colony is forcing me to be a farmer. There’s nothing wrong with farming, but I don’t want to farm. I want to be an astronomer, but my parents tell me I’m being selfish.
Gem: If anyone understands what it’s like having their whole life dictated to them and being groomed for a specific task, it’s me. If I survive the core earthquake to come, I want to escape all this training, and go do what I want to do! So now for the ultimate question: what’s the bravest thing you’ve ever done?
Rejoice: I’m not brave, but I can tell you what the hardest thing I’ve done is: telling the aliens they were all going to die is hard.
Gem: Yeah. My people understand that too, Rejoice! You are brave, in my book.
Twelve-year-old Rejoice cannot stop thinking about space. Her religious colony fled the violence of Earth to a new world to establish an agrarian utopia. The elders have determined that she will become a farmer, no matter what she wants. When she discovers aliens in the ocean and then the doom that is aimed at her planet, Rejoice needs to help her people find a way to survive.
3. Cora Harrison, 12 years old, from Cora and the Nurse Dragon by H. L. Burke
Gem: The most important question yet: do you like broccoli?
Cora: I’ve never had it. My dad doesn’t really cook. I mean, he’ll make pancakes or something for special occasions, but mostly we get whatever they make in the kitchen of the big house and that’s usually something that can get carried in a pot or a basket. It’s kind of a fancy word, though. Would make a cool name for a dragon.
Gem: Lucky! I’d rather never eat the stuff again. 😉 Okay, for more of an abstract question then: what color of the rainbow best represents who you are?
Cora: This is a weird question. It sounds like one of those poetry questions my best friend Abry is always getting good grades on in school while I get Cs because they really don’t make sense to me. People aren’t colors. I kind of like yellow, mainly because the best racing dragon I ever saw, Gold Digger’s Folly, is a yellowy-gold and that looks really cool, though. I’m not yellow, though. I’m kind of brown-ish, I guess, but Abry tells me that sort of answer is why I always get Cs.
Gem: Haha. I need to meet this Abry. And I’d like to see a real dragon too! For the final ultimate question I’m asking everyone today: what is the bravest thing you’ve ever done? (I’m trying to psych myself up to be brave for a super big task myself…)
Cora: It really depends. If you asked Abry, a LOT of things I do are brave, but that’s only because she worries about silly things like falling out of trees and getting diseases from stepping on nails. I’ve stepped on at least two nails, and I’m still alive. Not sure what she’s going on about. Abry’s a lot braver than me where it involves people though, talking to strangers or teachers, so I guess there’s more than one way to be brave. I guess it would have to be the second time I hatched a Mayfly dragon. The first time I didn’t know what to expect, that they only lived a few weeks, so when it died I was so sad, I thought I’d never get another dragon. When I decided to get another dragon, even though I knew it would die again, I guess that was kind of brave.
Gem: You betcha. Death brings out people’s true bravery every time – even if it’s the death of a pet. I’m interviewing another guy later whose very special otherworldly pet might die on him too. Thanks, Cora!
Cora’s a young girl with two dreams: to be a dragon jockey when she grows up and to own a pet dragon now. She constantly buys “egg packs” at the dragon emporium in hopes that one will hatch into a rare pet-sized dragon, but only gets short-lived mayflies. However, when an unexpected egg does develop into something new, Cora may be over her head.