A big thank you to Randy Monteith for this amazing book cover.
Monday, January 16, 2017
Wednesday, May 25, 2016
Sunday, April 17, 2016
Love this guy. I hear he is still alive. Would love to meet him and congratulate him on writing this book!!!! Here's a quote I'm using in Mother Crucified.
“For some reason her role in the story was theologically awkward. She was not wanted. Speculation aside, the sixfold canonical version stands. Mary of all people does not share in the experience that revives the disciples and creates Christianity. Whether the Resurrection is fact or vision or hallucination, daydream or myth or fraud, the Lord’s own mother, the holy Virgin through whom he was made man, is excluded from it.”
Friday, April 8, 2016
Sunday, March 27, 2016
"Mr. Peanut would spend many years hearing the story of two women and a priest who
had carried the magic of this box for close to sixty years. The priest died a drunk, some
believing he had been poisoned by the Hapsburgs, one of the women died old, lonely,
Thursday, March 17, 2016
«Je suis l'enfant de la Terre et du Ciel étoilé. Mon
origine is céleste. Donnez-moi l'onde fraîche du lac, que
je en le chemin trouve.”
"I am the child of the Earth and the starry sky. My origin is heavenly. Give me the fresh water lake, I found the way."
Thursday, March 10, 2016
Excerpt from "Mother Crucified"
Hannah James held her contempt for the world tightly. When it did seep out few understood her reasoning, while others observed her attitude believing it was meant for them. You either loved her or hated her; there was never a middle. Hannah grew up in a small city of a half million people in the centre of a country viewed as friends of the world. Born un-moneyed was the preferred term she used when relaying her story later in life. Sounded less intrusive, more idealistic in the cause of promoting dignity within that structure. She never knew if it worked or if her audience still believed poor was poor, poor was bad, that poor meant something very ugly.
Jig-a-boo town, now known as Jig Town was made of brick. Brick houses, brick pavement and six-foot brick walls to keep the jig-a-boos from view. Hannah and her family had lived here for several years after the bank had taken back their home. Dad preferred to drink than make the mortgage payments.
Remembering a children’s Christmas party organized by the local church, Hannah a devout Catholic at the age of seven, managed to get to the event although her Dad was on the road, and Mom was too tired to take her. Hannah was given charge of the donated Christmas gifts and clung to them against her tiny body to transport them up the back lane from the church to their home. The snow slowed her progress but not as much as the effort needed to drag the desired gifts through the wind and bitter cold of a prairie winter. Hannah held the treasure tight knowing if she dropped them she would not be able to pick them up and carry on. Near tears, Hannah found the strength to move ahead, a strength that stayed with her for the rest of her life. You just couldn’t afford to give up, if you did, it was game over.