Last summer I watches my friend’s cat for two weeks in one of my favorite places in Colorado. Normally I would have used all my afternoons and evenings to do everything outdoors that I could – hike, trail ride, go paddle boarding, sit in the hot springs. You get the idea.
And yet…
I sensed the quiet whisper of the Spirit to take the first of the two weeks and do nothing but be quiet and listen. Pray. Meditate. Dream. Remember.
So I did.
It was more restful than I could have imagined. It also set my mind and spirit soaring the next week as I did all the things I loved to do outside. It set afire my imagination, and I began to dream of stories and things from the past, wonderings and what-if’s…
By the end of the second week, I had three full children’s stories written and crafted, ideas for illustrations for each, and a fire lit in me to see what God wanted to do with this dream.
I sat on them for a while, praying, and figuring out what to do about them. Long story short – the past few months I have been working with a publisher to get my first story illustrated and published. I couldn’t be more thrilled! The illustrations are currently under review, and it should be published by the end of summer. It’s been an amazing process, and I am so exciting to see it come to life!
As to the why… I’ll share my “Author’s Note” that I am having printed at the front of the book here:
When my oldest daughter was little, I would tell her bedtime stories about a king and his daughter, their life in the kingdom, and the world outside. I used them to try and share with her the principles of God’s kingdom – being a person of mercy and kindness, caring for the poor and the outcast, and talking with the One who knows her by heart. Every story ended with the princess processing what she had seen and experienced with her father, and getting his thoughts on the matter. My hope was always that she would grow to put her trust in the loving God that I had found.
Thanks to my mother doing some genealogy research, I became aware of the presence of a young girl named Mahala, born to a Cherokee father and white mother, back in the 1800’s. This started a process of grief and repentance in my own life, knowing that the Native heritage had not been kept or celebrated in my family line. I wondered what it must have been like for her growing up? Did she have a faith? If so, how did she speak of her belief in a Creator, and did she know the Creator cared for her as a First Nations woman?
I imagined what it would have been like had Mahala’s family line continued to be honored in my own family. I wondered how Mahala would tell her great-great-great grand daughter of the Creator. Would she, like Jesus, use the things in the everyday to speak of the unseen spiritual realities of God? Would she, like the Israelites, speak with reverence of her own people that knew the Creator but only had oral stories to rely upon to remember?
Out of these wonderings came the story that is being published.
I do not for one moment to claim I understand the experience of the First Nations people that are reclaiming their heritage, reconciling their faith, and trying to heal. I only hope these will honor Mahala — and invite both the young and old in this generation to dwell in the wonder and mystery of the amazing Creator who formed them and loves them deeply.
Find me at @MahalaKidsBook on Instagram to follow the journey!
Finding the Life 