Snowflakes dance and twirl past the window.
It feels like it’s already Christmas, yet only yesterday was Thanksgiving. As the year draws to a close, I feel like celebrating, perhaps dancing like those snowflakes on a mountain breeze.
At the beginning of the year I signed a contract to write another book Great Horse Stories for Girls. I’d dreamt of writing this for decades! I work a full-time job so nearly every evening and weekend I pecked away at the computer. God helped me put together a collection of horse stories that demonstrate how much He treasures each one of us. When I finally clicked “Send button” the end of August, I breathed a sigh of relief. When it releases in August of 2015, you’ll hear me hooting and hollering all the way from here in Montana.
April: Great Horse Stories stampeded onto the bookstore shelves. It contains a unique collection of other people’s horse stories that I wrote (with a few of mine sprinkled in). I’m in awe of the letters from the readers saying that the stories touched their hearts with God’s hope and love.
On May 30th, after suffering for the last few years, Mom moved to heaven. The first miracle? My dad, brother, sister and I were in the hospital with her. The second miracle took place at the national cemetery. Thousands of rows of white markers dotted the grass as far as we could see. There were 204,000 graves! I was speechless when Mom’s casket was lowered into a gravesite—next to my dad’s brother and his wife—what are “the chances” of that happening? One out of 204,000! That’s the Hand of God!
The middle of August I kissed Little Girl’s forehead for the last time. Yes, my sweet Little Girl, the mule I’d owned over 31 years, had blown out her knee and there was nothing that could be done. Yes, she’s the one who had a broken jaw when she was two-days-old so I bottle-fed her every two hours around the clock. As the excavator dug a grave next to Czar’s, I choked back my tears with the realization that I don’t know of another person who had owned their dream horse and mule—both of them—over 31 years. I am blessed.
Dad came out to Montana in September and we had a blast touring an old gold-rush ghost town and hanging out together.
October: I was thrilled to fly over to Oregon and visit Harvest House Publishers for my very first time. It was incredible meeting all the people who help me. Then my editor, Barb, and I disappeared to the Oregon Coast and stayed in a condo for a couple days and watched the waves lap the shoreline.
I’ll finish off the holidays celebrating with family and friends, filled with the assurance that it’s Mom’s first Christmas in heaven—she lives where I want to be. I wonder if heaven celebrates Christmas? Do the trumpets blow and the angels sing? What would it be like to celebrate it with Christ Himself?
That’s how I want my Christmas-on-earth to be this year—filled with the wonder of Christ. And I pray that yours is too.