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July 31, 2006
posted by David Meigs at 7/31/2006 12:01:00 AM


Grace made the best marinara sauce I’ve ever tasted. She used ripe tomatoes, onions, sausage and spices that she simmered for hours. Mmm, it was sooo good!

But today I’m not going to talk about THAT Grace (though her sauce was awesome). I want to talk about the kind of grace we extend to others and especially our enemies.

“But I don’t have any enemies!”

“True that,”
Mr. disembodied voice; “but, maybe someone has let you down, slandered your good name, or pushed your buttons?”

“Ok, I admit it. There is ONE pin-head who constantly pushes my buttons.”

“Pin-head? Ouch! What did I do now?”

“David, it’s not what you say, but the pompous way you say it... and you smell funny too.”

“I’m sorry, forgive me please!”

“If I forgive you, do you promise to stop being so arrogant?”

“I’ll try really hard, but sometimes I still blow it. I need more than your forgiveness; I need your grace!”

“But you’re so $%#@!”

“I’m a falling down wretch of a man, but I still need your love.”

“Ok, I love you even if you smell funny and say things that hurt my feelings. Here Dave, have a cookie.”

“Thank you, disembodied voice. You’re so good to me.”

* * * * *

Last week I watched some good folks walk away from our church. They had a problem with someone who has lots of faults.

Hey, I thought we were a family. Where’s the grace?

I’ll miss you guys. May the lord bless your socks off wherever you end up!

July 28, 2006
posted by David Meigs at 7/28/2006 12:01:00 AM

You write the caption!
July 25, 2006
posted by David Meigs at 7/25/2006 11:06:00 PM

On August 9th, Chris Well is turning 40.   As a consolation for entering old age I’m asking everyone within the sound of my voice... err, this blog, to go to Amazon (on his birthday) and buy DELIVER US FROM EVELYN (Harvest House).  

But wait for his birthday. Ok?

Everyone that buys the book ON his birthday and sends in the proof of purchase gets personally thanked by name in his third novel KINGDOM COME, due 2007.  There are cool prizes too!  

I’ll post more about it as his birthday nears!
July 24, 2006
posted by David Meigs at 7/24/2006 11:44:00 AM
I posted a slightly truncated version of this today at Amazon.com.

Here goes:

DELIVER US FROM EVELYN really delivers. This was a real treat! Nobody writes like Chris Well, his style is fun and quirky, fast paced and intelligent.

Like its prequel, FORGIVING SOLOMON LONG, DELIVER US FROM EVELYN (Harvest House) is set in Kansas City, Mo. Detective Tom Griggs and his partner, Charlie, have the never ending job of taking out the city’s trash. But as soon as they bring down one organized crime king-pin, three new ones emerge.

The snooty media mogul, Evelyn Blake’s, husband is missing, but she doesn’t seem to care. A mysterious employee is spilling the goods on their blog and she’s livid. Add to the mix a con-artist with all the luck of Wylee Coyote and you have a recipe for a whole lot of fun.

Visit Chris’s blog

Buy the book at Amazon
July 21, 2006
posted by David Meigs at 7/21/2006 12:08:00 AM
You write the caption!
July 20, 2006
posted by David Meigs at 7/20/2006 10:27:00 AM

I am currently reading DELIVER Us from EVELYN,
by Chris Well... and I’m having fun.

Want to read a sample chapter?

Look for my review on Monday!
July 19, 2006
posted by David Meigs at 7/19/2006 12:28:00 AM
...continued from yesterday.

It took a couple weeks, but we found her on the other side of the nation. She actually tracked down her dad. The ache in the pit of my stomach predicted how the reunion turned out.

“You were a mistake and I never wanted you,” he said, “I don’t love you and I never want to see you again!”

Her eyes were dry and hollow as she told me what happened. She was more hardened somehow and even worse, she blamed God for the rejection.

For the next few years, I watched her pass herself from one boy to another in search of filling the empty dad-shaped hole in her heart. She kept God at a safe distance. There was no way she’d risk being let down again.

She got pregnant and quit high school.

“I’m praying for a son. I will love him and he will love me. We will always have each other!” she said.

But she had a beautiful little girl, instead.


In the past thirteen years, so many of my prayers were answered. The mom (now a grandma) had married a godly man who was gentle and loving to his wife and stepdaughters. But it was too late for the oldest daughter; her soul was as lonely as the grave. For the next dozen years, I heard nothing but bad reports of run-ins with the law, drug abuse and a string of bad men.

Yesterday, I sat down with her mom. The fourteen year old “runaway” girl that spent the weekend as the guest of my daughter all those years ago is now thirty. She was in jail again and her now teenage daughter is falling in with the wrong crowd.

She hasn’t hit bottom yet, but when she does, she will look up and see her Heavenly Father reaching for her.

“I haven’t given up on you, daughter of my heart, and neither has your Heavenly Father. I’ll never stop praying for you!”

Someday, there will be a happy ending to this story.

July 18, 2006
posted by David Meigs at 7/18/2006 12:00:00 AM
...Continued from yesterday.

I was stunned. Obviously, she thought of me as her surrogate dad. I couldn’t just tell her “no”, but telling her “yes” was breaking all the rules.

My executive director at Youth For Christ, where I worked suggested several precautions we could use to maintain safety. Darla & I prayed and felt the Lord’s approval. The girl would never be out of my wife’s supervision and she would be the guest of my daughter.

When we picked her up, she was so quiet. Every second, every action was like a medicine to her demolished soul. She marveled at my daughter’s idyllic bedroom, all her toys and the “Little Mermaid” decorations on the walls.

Everything was so loving, so gentle and so perfect. She soaked up every minute. She was no longer a hardened street-smart teenager. She became a wide-eyed little girl of five or six. Oh, she didn’t like the set-in-stone rules of our home, but she soaked up the feeling of safety that came with the boundaries.

I hoped that the experience would help fill the dad-shaped abyss in her heart, and it did..., for a while. But it was like throwing a teaspoon of water on a fire. She longed for her father.

“If only I could find him and he could see how great I turned out. He’d be proud of me. He would love me,” she said.

“I’m proud of you. You are perfect in every way, and you have a Heavenly Father that loves you very much.” I told her.

She wept as my words swept over her. I only wish it were enough. She couldn’t accept that her Heavenly Father loved her. How could He love her if her earthly father did not?

“God will help me find my dad.” she said.

“Let God be your father. He loves you so much!” I said, but my words fell like stones.

I wasn’t surprised when I got the phone call.

“David, she ran away to find her father!” her momma cried.

I’ll wrap this up tomorrow...
July 17, 2006
posted by David Meigs at 7/17/2006 02:06:00 AM
Disclaimer: The parties involved are un-named, but have given their permission to share their story.

The phone call was sixteen years ago, but I remember it like it was yesterday.

“I heard you work with troubled teens. My fourteen year old daughter ran away. Can you help me find her?”
She said.

We prayed together over the phone and set up a meeting. Long story short, we found the daughter living with a thirty year old man, in a near by town. There are predators everywhere.

We started counseling sessions for both the daughter and her mom. It didn’t take long to understand why the daughter ran away. The stepfather took a claw hammer to the girl’s head.

It was an all too typical scenario. Mom wouldn’t break away from the abuser because he was the father of her two young girls. She’d raised the oldest girl alone and didn’t want to do that again. Besides, when he wasn’t on the drugs, he was a good father.

The stepfather landed back in prison for the assault, and after a few months Mom took a step of faith and filed for a divorce. Mom blossomed under the counseling and her new walk with God. So did the daughter; but her hurts run too deep. She needed a miracle.

The girl craved the love of her father. Her REAL father, not the one that beat her with a hammer. The problem was that he lived on the streets of a city three thousand miles away, and he didn’t want anything to do with her.

The poor girl was obsessed with the need for her dad. She traded sex with any boy or man who would hold her for a while. She had a great big gaping whole in her heart where her dad was supposed to be.

After six months of progress, she asked me the strangest question.

“David, can I spend the weekend with you?”

My brain was screaming NO WAY, but instead I gently asked her why?

“All my friends get to go spend the weekends with their dads, but I never have.”

Come back tomorrow for part two.

July 14, 2006
posted by David Meigs at 7/14/2006 12:41:00 PM

You write the caption
July 13, 2006
posted by David Meigs at 7/13/2006 11:05:00 AM
EVERYONE, thank you for all the prayers for my dear friend Kay.

For a couple months, we’ve been taking her to the local Healing Room. But this week she just couldn’t do it. She just wants the pain to end. She wants to go home.

Heaven is the ultimate healing and it’s a good thing. A wonderful thing.

Please continue to pray. Her pain is unbearable.

May the Lord grant her rest in the arms of her Savior.
July 12, 2006
posted by David Meigs at 7/12/2006 12:09:00 PM

My friend Kay is in a battle for her life.  Bone marrow cancer has devoured her body, and left her in unbearable pain.  Yet somehow, she seems to keep her mind and heart intent on praising her God.

The doctors say it’s too late, but I’m asking God for a miracle.  

Please take a moment and lift her up in prayer.

July 10, 2006
posted by David Meigs at 7/10/2006 11:09:00 AM
I left this comment at a fellow writer’s blog today. Perhaps it might resonate with some of you.

Here’s what I wrote:

“Who doesn’t want to be accepted by their peers? It is sad, but our craft has it’s fill of elitist snobs.

I recall reading Dean Koontz’s account of receiving a letter from his High School English teacher who was disappointed that he had “sold out” and not written the “Great American Novel”.

Tsk, tsk… Shame on her.

Mr. Koontz is a true master of HIS craft, which is different, but NOT lesser than the great literary icons such as Shakespeare, Dickens or Marlow who were masters of their craft.

If we concern ourselves with pleasing man, how can we ever please God?

I argued with the Lord before I wrote about the Nephilim. I knew it would doom me as a hack by some, but I followed His leading anyway.

I think God was pleased, and He is “more cool” than any of those “cool people”.

But then, I’m a curmudgeon.”

Am I wrong?

What do you think?
July 07, 2006
posted by David Meigs at 7/07/2006 12:08:00 PM
You write the caption
July 05, 2006
posted by David Meigs at 7/05/2006 12:20:00 AM

Today is the kickoff of the fan-fiction blog, SCENES & BEANS. It is based on the upcoming mystery series, by bestselling author, Brandilyn Collins and is set in the fictional town of Kanner Lake, Idaho. A dozen or so of the central characters will take turns writing the posts.
I’m jazzed because I was selected (along with three other talented writers) to play the part of the curmudgeonly, “WILBUR HUCKS.” Each of us “Wilbur’s will take turns writing the posts that will appear a couple times each month.

“Wilbur’s” first turn at bat will be on Monday, July 10. I’ve no idea if Brandilyn will select my post, or one of the other “Wilbur’s”, but it doesn’t matter because they’re all great. Be sure to visit often and leave comments for “Wilbur” and the other characters. This is going to be fun!

“Bailey” is the owner of the JAVA JOINT coffee house and her blog, SCENES & BEANS, is her way of telling the world about her coffee shop and the town that she loves. Visit the blog today and meet her. She’s a sweetheart and I think you’ll love her too.

A little over a month ago, I was fortunate enough to read an advance copy of VIOLET DAWN, the first book of the new series. I fell in love with all the characters, but when the chance came up to audition for different parts, Wilbur was my first choice.

VIOLET DAWN (Zondervan) is set to hit the bookshelves this August. Look for my review as the release date arrives.

July 01, 2006
posted by David Meigs at 7/01/2006 12:08:00 AM

It is July 1st, time for the FIRST Day Blog Tour! (Join our alliance! Click the button!) The FIRST day of every month we will feature an author and their latest book's FIRST chapter!
This month's feature author is:
Marilynn Griffith.

Marilynn Griffith is a freelance writer and conference speaker whose online columns reach over 20,000 women each month. Her recent writing credits include Pink(Shades of Style #1), Made of Honor, Chicken Soup for the Christian Woman's Soul, Proverbs for the People, and For Better or for Worse. She is also a blogger! Visit her Rhythms of Grace blog and learn ever so much! Marilynn lives in Tallahassee, Florida, with her husband and children.
Her latest book, Jade (Shades of Style #2), just came out and she has agreed to be our July feature author for the FIRST Day Blog tour.
Having the perfect life isn't all it's cracked up to be.

Designer Lily Chau doesn't know if she's finally got it together or if life is starting to unravel. With a successful boyfriend and a great job at up-and-coming fashion house Garments of Praise, it seems she has the perfect pattern for success. But her mother's health is failing, her boyfriend just won't pop the question, and being a pattern maker is a far cry from having a clothing line of her own. Lily is sure her hands are just too full to draw her deepest dreams.
Raya and Chenille, Lily's pals at Garments of Praise offer plenty of advice and sympathy. Jean, Lily's co-worker and second Mom even goes behind Lily's back to boost her chances of success. When she's chosen for the reality show The Next Design Diva, it seems like the chance of a lifetime for Lily. But the mysterious designer chosen to mentor her sends her spinning. He's fresh, fine—and way off limits. Suddenly Lily's life goes from carefully patterned to nothing but a tangle of threads.
Praise for the Shades of Style series:
"Griffith's ...Shades of Style series features four women in the fashion industry: Raya, Chenille, Lily, and Jean. The women fight to save their struggling business and learn some important lessons about people, life, and faith."— Library Journal
“The …Shades of Style series combines multicultural characters with heartache, drama, humor, and romance.”—Charisma Magazine
Read the FIRST chapter!

The envelope held Lily Chau’s future. She held a letter opener, stabbing under her nails for the remnants of her past. Skimming under the nail of her ring finger, she snagged what she’d been going for, a hunk of prunes caught under her nail last week during the chop and puree fest once known as her mother’s breakfast. A breakfast that her mother had returned as quickly as Lily had spooned it all in, leaving Lily standing in a puddle in her best shoes.

“Jump in the shower. Grab the black pants. Your wrap blouse is clean. I saw it the other day,” her neighbor Pinkie had said, arms going in every direction. “You don’t know how to feed her, Lily. You should have waited for me.”

Lily had tried to wait, but her mother wasn’t in a waiting mood today. The guilt over leaving her mother hungry with their neighbor had sent her into a chopping blending frenzy that ended as such things usually did, seeping into her shoes and staining her best skirt. But that was okay. She’d put a barrette in her mother’s hair and fed her breakfast. Where God chose to store that breakfast was up to Him.

Though Lily was known around the office for her eclectic and exciting personal style, the pants she wore now were turning into her work uniform. But her mother was still alive, her boyfriend was still dropping hints about their inevitable wedding and she grew closer to God each day. Things were good, with hopes of getting better. Becoming stable.

So why was she holding the letter opener in both hands? Lily poked the point of it into the envelope, tracing the letters in the return address: The Next Design Diva Show, Nia Network. Lily slipped the blade into the envelope’s back flap then slid her finger against the instrument’s edge. She pulled upward slightly, ripping the corner and . . .

“Are you sleeping in here?” A husky voice laced with laughter echoed in the hall before its speaker reached Lily’s office. Jean believed in giving people warnings of her impending arrival, even her friends. For everyone but Lily, the announcement was usually warranted since people tended to find Jean a little intimidating. Lily saw through Jean’s fast moves and loud talk . . . to her heart. She hoped her friend wouldn’t see her through her just as quickly today.

“Can’t you ever stay in your office during the creative hour? We’ve got thirty more minutes. Take a nap why don’t you? Or color in a coloring book like that guy over in production.” Though Lily chided her loving workaholic friend for coming to visit when they were all supposed to be spending time alone to refuel their creativity, the interruption was a gift. For a moment she’d let herself consider something impossible. Something still forked on her letter opener.

Jean whisked into the office just as Lily swept the letter into her desk drawer, where it would accompany her secret copy of Modern Bride and a cigarette she’d found after quitting and hadn’t thrown away.

Lily squirmed under her friend’s withering glance as Jean pushed Lily’s huge fossil doorstep into place. Jean shook her head. “Oh my. Now she’s cramming things into that drawer again. Don’t tell me. You’re peeking at those silly ten dollar wedding books? Or were you dreaming of that picket fence on Long Island with your doctor friend?”

Warmth rushed to Lily’s face. “Neither. You need to stay out of my desk, you nosy thing.”

Jean approached Lily like a lioness in a good suit. A hearty laugh bubbled up from her throat. “Listen, honey, nobody needs to be nosy to know anything around here, especially when you stuff that drawer so full it can’t shut. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve had to come in here and pick all that mess off the floor since you ran the custodian away from here.”

“Here you go with that again. I told you. I did not run the custodian away. He can still clean in here . . . when I’m around.”

“Uh huh,” Jean shook her head in pity.

“He was stealing my rocks!” Lily banged the letter opener on her desk, wanting to shove it into the drawer too, but now to afraid at what might come flying out if she did.

“Listen to what you just said. Stealing rocks. Now I admit you’ve got some of the best pebble and bauble collections I’ve ever seen, but you’ve got to let it go.” She reached around Lily and yanked out the drawer. The magazine unfurled as if she’d pulled the string on a parachute. Fabric swatches, neon note squares and office supplies spilled over the sides and onto the floor.

Jean stuck her hand toward the back and came out with a pitiful excuse for a Virginia Slim. “You’ve got to let this go too. You haven’t smoked in almost two years. What are you doing, planning a slow suicide some time in the future?”
“I-I-just give me that, okay?” Lily reached for the cigarette and peeled back its skin, emptied the tobacco guts into the trash while trying not get too much of the smell on her fingers. As she considered what she’d really saved up for later, disobeying the voice of God, Lily became much less concerned with Jean and more concerned with her own heart. Sometimes it seemed like she’d come so far, but there still those little secrets she tried to keep, parts of her life she tried to stuff in a drawer. And God kept having to come and pick up the pieces when it spilled over the side.

She grabbed a wet wipe from her purse and scrubbed her hands, only to realize what dangled from Jean’s fingers.

The envelope.

The rumpled magazine had covered it, but as usual Jean had left no stone, or mangled bridal book unturned. She looked as though she’d caught a tiger by the tail.

“So they did pick you! I knew they would. They had to. I told Raya I was going to call her father myself if they didn’t.”

Lily froze. She’d carried the envelope around in her purse for two days wondering why the show had written her. She considered submitting sketches several times, but each time something happened with her mother’s health to make her forget it. There was also the quiet that had come over her every time she’d prayed about it. She felt as though she was suppose to wait and see the salvation of the Lord, that what God had would come to her through another way. Now it seemed that her other way might be from the office down the hall. “What did you do?”

Beads from Jean’s bracelets jangled as she shook her wrists. “Nothing much. I took a few sketches from your book and scanned them. Sent that robe you designed for that stupid boyfriend of yours—”

Lily clenched her fists. “The kimono? That was Ken’s Christmas present. I’ve been looking everywhere for it. How could you?”

Her friend smiled. “Easy. Now hush and open the letter. At least I don’t try and match you up with men. Not that you couldn’t use some help there too . . . Don’t look at me like that. I care about you.”

If this was caring, Lily didn’t want to think of what not caring might feel like. She pried the letter from Jean’s fingers and placed it into the drawer, now empty except for a star-shaped paper clip in neon pink and a pencil with no eraser. Lily’s sketching pencil. She stared up at the ceiling. “Why couldn’t I have regular friends who don’t care about me so much. Goodness, Jean, how could you? I mean sure I’d love to have my own line, my own show, but I can’t—”

“Here we go again. You really should have been a Catholic you, know. You’re a natural at the guilty martyr thing.” Jean dropped into the chair a few inches away. “We’ve been over this a gazillion times. You can do this. None of your excuses hold water, especially your first one, that you’re not good enough. You’re good enough and you have the sense to still question your talent. Good enough for me. As for your mother, she can go wherever you go.”

It was Lily’s turn to laugh this time, though there was little humor in it. “Like the way your grandkids could go wherever you go, Jean?”

Her stoic friend grabbed the desk with a white-knuckled grip. “Okay, you got me. I still think you should open it. Just to know.”

“No thanks,” Lily said, taking the letter from the drawer and ripping it to shreds. “Some things are best left unknown. The things that count though, that people care about you and want the best for you, those are the prizes of life.”

Jean’s jaw tightened as she swept the torn bits of paper into the trash with her cupped hand. “Oh, please. Friendship is great and everything, but this is it! Your shot. And you ripped it up. How could you?”

Lily covered her friend’s hand with her own. “I don’t know, but I did. If it’s mine, God will bring it back . . . at a time when my hands are free enough to hold it.”
From JADE, by Marilynn Griffith, Revell Books
0800730410, June 2006, Copyright © 2006. All rights