“Traveling mercies” is a phrase many consider Christianese.  We  insert it into our prayers with as much understanding as the oft-repeated “hedge of protection.” No big deal. Or is it? Back in June, I visited my mom in her Ohio log home for two weeks of weed-pulling, crossword-puzzle-working, and the joys of the simple life. We talked about my dad, who passed away the previous June. He’d be proud of you, Mom. We laughed at our many similarities: You like cabbage but not coleslaw? So do I! On the Sunday I started my journey home, Mom and I attended church. Near the start of the service, Mom asked for prayer—“traveling mercies” as I drove back to Florida. No big deal. Or was it? After church, I loaded my suitcase and other assorted plunder from our cleaning and organizing sessions into my aging silver van. Gravel crunched under the tires as I waved goodbye. I took a more winding, eastern route than on the way up, when I’d visited my daughter in Tampa first. This time, the road would take me to another daughter and son-in-love in Columbia, South Carolina. But not that night. Less than a minute before I entered the East River Mountain Tunnel, drilled for more than a mile between West Virginia and Virginia, something shifted. Or I might say, “nothing shifted,” because my van suddenly seemed to have no gears. As I entered the tunnel, it slowed. And slowed. Wary of the line of cars behind me, I tried to accelerate. The engine revved, but something had shifted. Or, more accurately, nothing did. “Heal it, Jesus! Heal it, Jesus!” I all but chanted as I prayed my way through. Toward the end of the darkness, the gears kicked back in, and I sailed out of the tunnel praising God—but still concerned. Almost right away, a sign for a rest area beckoned me just as my vehicle’s scary  symptoms returned. I crept along for the mile-plus until I could pull off the highway and into what I saw as a safe place. A few phone calls, some frantic research on my husband’s part, and a two-hour wait later, a noisy tow truck chugged its way to a stop. The driver would take my van and me back into West Virginia to the mechanic’s shop. On a late-afternoon Sunday, we had no options for an immediate fix. My husband’s search had led to a shop with a dropbox where we could safely leave both van and keys. But how could I reach the motel he’d also chosen? “I’ll take you,” the tow truck driver volunteered. By this time, our conversation had revealed him as a media professor at...

Today, I’m teaching a continuing class for new writers, WannaBe Published, at the Greater Philadelphia Christian Writers Conference. But you can also find me over at the Christian Authors Network blog, posting an interview with author Davalynn Spencer. Check it out, and...

“Coincidence: When God does a miracle and remains anonymous.” So reads a small refrigerator magnet I gave my mom many years ago. It still has a place on her refrigerator. And in my heart. Ever since I learned that truth, I’ve taken joy in the many times God puts people, events, and situations together in a way others might describe as coincidental but I call God-ordained. I had one of those such moments as I began training for my recent trip to Peru with Never the Same Missions. I went as the writer for Sisterhood magazine. Since 2010, I’ve had the wonderful privilege of writing about the Never the Same trips to Guatemala (2010), Ecuador (2011), Panama (2012), and now Peru. (Here’s the 2012 article in case you want to check it out.) I’m so grateful to have taken these trips that combine so many of the things I love: missions, teens, writing, and more. But I had a special reason for wanting to go to Peru. When I’m not writing for Sisterhood, I spend much of my time writing and editing books. I’ve served more than one author as a ghost- or collaborative writer. They have the story or message. I have the words. But the first book I volunteered to write—and the one that pulled me into so much of what I do today—is the story of a passionate Christ-follower named Brent Higgins, Jr., or BJ, as his family called him. BJ loved Jesus with all his heart. He loved to share about Jesus so much that, even at the young age of fifteen, he had traveled to Peru twice on 30-days missions trips to tell others about Him. But BJ was not only a missionary in Peru. He used nearly every school assignment as an opportunity to share his love for his Savior. He journaled about Christ. He texted and talked with others about Him. And when BJ went to be with Jesus five days short of his sixteenth birthday, he left behind a loving family and a prolific body of writings that pointed others to Him. God allowed me the privilege of using many of those writings to help his parents, Brent and Deanna Higgins, tell BJ’s story in the best-selling book I Would Die for You: One Student’s Story of Passion, Service, and Faith (Revell, 2008). But what connected me with his family was a blog they began back in 2005 while he was in the hospital battling the infection that would later take his life. I prayed for BJ. I posted. And I bought (for myself and my children) pink T-shirts, created by BJ’s sisters and a friend, to help encourage others to...

  Read. Write. Pray has gone missing this summer, mostly because I have, too. I spent two-plus weeks in June with my mom in Ohio. She lives in the land of little Internet, so it was easier not to write than to add blogging to my away-from-mom’s-to-get-online schedule. After a few days back in Florida, I left for training and three weeks in Peru, which wiped out the rest of June and most of July. I had hoped to blog from Peru, but between a crazy-busy mission trip and writing schedule along with intermittent Internet, you can guess what happened. So here I sit, the perpetual calendar in front of me still reading “June” when July is almost over. And I leave next Tuesday to serve and teach at the Greater Philadelphia Christian Writer’s Conference. So much has happened. I have photos and (of course) thoughts  to share, and I’ll try to do that soon. But in the meantime, today’s prayer expresses much of what is in my heart. Father, You’ve allowed me to see and do so much this summer. I sound as though I’m lamenting my busy schedule when I mean to celebrate it. Thank You for all the opportunities You’ve given, not just to me but to so many who pray alongside me. All through this season, I’ve seen people who are turning to You. Some as they watch a drama and recognize Christ’s story within its layers. Some as they hear a testimony and relate its truth to their lives. Some as they fall under the conviction of Your Holy Spirit through a speaker’s message. Some as they sit alone to read Your Word. Some of these don’t know they’re turning to You, God. They’re not aware of Your still, small voice or the power of Your Spirit. But they’re turning to You all the same. Some have known You for years but have fallen away. They’re taken a few baby steps to turn back, but the road looks so long. And some know and walk with You but, like me, need to make a consistent choice to turn toward rather than away from You moment by moment, day by day God, today, draw Yourself near and speak to all of us in our need. Give us clear vision, Lord. Remind us You don’t stand at the end of the road or beyond the final turn. Instead, You’re running to meet us, to enfold us, to embrace us, to wrap us in the kind of hug only You can give. Whoever calls on You shall be saved. Whoever seeks You will find You.  And whoever turns to You will find You first, last, and forever...

Catch me if you CAN! Today, I’ve posted an interview with multi-published author Debby Mayne over on the CAN (Christian Authors Network) blog. Check it out if you have an interest in book marketing, Debby, or her books. She shares some interesting ideas including a sticky marketing situation. (I won’t give it away, but it involves a popular Greek pastry).  ...