Joy E. DeKok's Blog

The leaves are mostly gone in this part of Minnesota. The wind feels and sounds cold. I’ll be getting my winter overalls out sooner than later, so time in the photo fort is more comfortable. It’s very nice to have mittens that allow my shutter finger to be uncovered while the rest of my hand is warm.

I’m already homesick for warmer weather, but I’m pretty sure I’ll find beautiful wintery things to photograph and share with you.

#AmWriting

A few chapters are written in my new fiction work-in-progress. I hope to share a little more by next month, but for now, things are fresh, and my heart feels a little protective of this fledgling story. Plus, I don’t want to share too much too soon because things can change quickly in the story-writing process.

Although I’m not ready to tell you very much, I can tell you that the series title is Daughters of Thunder.

#AmBlogging

I have a couple of posts you might enjoy if you haven’t read them yet:

Because of Aslan – A Faith & Writing Essay

The Oak – A Poem  ADD LINK

#AmReading

I love Kathy’s writing! Deadly Conclusion is the 3rd book in this series. Click on the cover to go to Amazon.

#AmMarketing

Books written by authors whose writing I enjoy and my Northern Lights Series. Click on the covers to go to the Amazon links. 

I plan my reading time. There are a few minutes in the morning with a second cup of coffee, then again while I eat my lunch, and while I eat my afternoon apple with 16 oz of cold water. I look forward to stepping into the pages where Joe and Hank, two cold case cops, live and work.

Here’s book 4 in the series . . .

Erica Vetsch has written a delightful duo here – I am hoping for more in this series!

#AmSocial

#AmTakingPhotos

I haven’t added any new photos to my website in a long time. I have a few ready to edit, but I didn’t get them ready for this edition of the newsletter in time. Here’s the LINK to see what’s out there now.

Plus – all the photos I post on my Personal Facebook page are yours for the taking.

Until Next Time,

Joy

The post Joy’s Newsletter – November 2022 appeared first on Joy DeKok.

Oak – A Poem

I stand with my chin resting on the brown-gray tweed of you,

The bright orange hat on my bald head slightly askew.

For a second, I consider hugging you with all of my heart.

Instead, I’ll take your picture, write a poem, and call it art.

My camera held high in my hands ‘til my joints start to ache,

I press the shutter as my muscles start to quiver and shake.

I knew I’d gotten the photo I’d dreamed of taking of you,

Your rusty orange leaves reaching for the sky of fall blue.

A sudden wind howled, and fallen leaves swirled on their way,

While leaves still bound to your branches, danced a ballet.

The fallen colors of autumn crunched when I stepped back,

And acorn caps their nuts stashed for a squirrel snack.

I walked back down the path, more stops were part of the days plan,

Straightening my hat and pulling mittens on my hands.

“I’ll be back,” my whisper carried away on the nippy breeze.

My heart already homesick feeling for you – an oak tree.

In winter the cold and snow keep me from going where you thrive,

I’ll wait impatiently until the warm breezes of spring arrive.

Once again, I will consider hugging you with all of my heart,

Then, I’ll take your picture again and will call it art.

I will thank God for allowing the long-fallen acorn of you,

To be the magnificent tree He planted and grew.

Until Next Time,

Joy

The post Oak – A Poem appeared first on Joy DeKok.

Because of Aslan – An Essay of Faith & Writing

“Why have your followers all drawn their swords, may I ask?” said Aslan.

“May it please Your High Majesty,” said the second Mouse, whose name was Peepiceek, “we are all waiting to cut off our own tails if our Chief must go without his. We will not bear the shame of wearing an honor which is denied to the High Mouse.”

“Ah!” roared Aslan. “You have conquered me. You have great hearts. Not for the sake of your dignity, Reepicheep, but for the love that is between you and your people, and still more for the kindness your people showed me long ago when you ate away the cords that bound me on the Stone Table (and it was then, though you have long forgotten it, that you began to be Talking Mice), you shall have your tail again.”  ― C.S. Lewis, Prince Caspian

It happened the first time Jon took me to The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe when the movie was released in 2005. Neither of us had read the books as kids on my part because I didn’t think I was interested in fantasy.

Then it happened. Aslan stepped onto the big screen, and my heart knew who he represented.

Jesus. The Lion of Judah.

The power in the pretend took me by surprise, and I felt not like one of the characters in the story but like a secret watcher. It was as if Aslan knew I was there, and he kept my presence our secret. When he left the scene, I longed for his return.

I was 48 years old.

Now I am almost 65. A couple of years ago, we decided to listen to the complete series while riding around the countryside, drinking coffee. Sometimes we stopped the audiobook to talk about the story, but mostly we let each book do the talking.

It was hard to explain how I felt about Aslan, and his relationship to Lewis’ characters, especially a noble and brave Talking Mouse named Reepicheep. A mouse I wanted to be like.

A mouse who loved Aslan and whom Aslan loved. I wanted to join him and the mice in untying the great lion from the Stone Table where evil bound him, although I would use my hands and not my mouth. I would stand beside Reepicheep, who reminds me somewhat of the Apostle Peter, although that might not have been the author’s intent. Readers often insert their ideas into the stories they read.

Please don’t misunderstand. I did not worship Aslan, but I loved how this fictional character turned my thoughts to Jesus.

True believers in Christ who write fiction pray readers will be drawn into a real (historical fiction) or make-believe world full of pretend good and evil people and get a glimpse of Jesus. To see Him lead these human hearts to the Father and win the ultimate soul victory.

Since I first heard about the Lion of Judah as a teenager, I have seen the righteous, roaring, coming King who will do all the things the Bible says He will do. Some were scary to this new believer, but I knew it was all true.

Lewis didn’t water that down. Aslan is a fierce lion king on a mission to punish and destroy evil and eternally reward good.

All those years, when thinking about Jesus’ return, in my reverent (even fervent) fear, I missed that when He comes again, everything He does will be born out of the purest love and perfect justice born of that love. I may have heard it preached, but the heavier words and the artwork of the coming Holy Lion somehow held (and still does) a place of priority in my heart.

Yet, God used a movie and then a series of audible fantasy novels to clarify both sides of the real Lion of Judah. Today I understand better because of Aslan.

Until Next Time,

Joy

P. S. I’ve heard authors called parable writers and cringed because I thought these teachings were exclusive to Jesus and the Bible. No one in my world used the word in any other context. Then, I did a little homework and discovered the definition of the word parable and its history.

Here are a couple of the links I found interesting.

Parable Defined 

Parable – Bible Dictionary 

Photo Credit: Pixabay

The post Because of Aslan – A Faith & Writing Essay appeared first on Joy DeKok.

Seed Tossing & A Double Lesson

The seeds on the old stump were at the epicenter of this chickadee’s life for a few moments. Searching the pile for at least one good tidbit, he wasn’t distracted in the least by the medley of treats I’d cast out for him and the other birds and critters.

Instead, he bent toward the few in front of him as if unimpressed by the multitude of options.

Then he found the one seed he wanted. He held the one in his beak as if it were the most delectable.

I watched as he moved to a better position – at least, I think that’s what he was doing – and gave me one of my favorite action shots I’ve ever taken!

After he flew away and other birds took his place on the stump, I thought about him and that seed. A few of my ponderings might be worthy of consideration, while others might not be. But here they are . . .

Someone somewhere planted a sunflower seed that grew and was harvested. Somehow, that little seed made it to this old stump so a little chickadee in our yard would choose it, crack it open, and thoroughly enjoy it.

Maybe many of the seeds in the pile I’d poured out came from the same sunflower. Or not. I don’t understand the science of seeds – do they have DNA, and could someone with far greater knowledge than me trace them to the same blossom? And why would it matter other than it would be super interesting?

But the cool thing is that God knows where that seed came from and how it got here. From the beginning of time. From seed to blossom to new seeds, to birdfeeders, to chickadee tummies, He knows. What do I believe He knows? Every single, solitary thing from infinity past to infinity future.

In the case of sunflower seeds, He gave them to people and birds to eat. Since they are one of my favorite snacks, I’m glad, although I confess, I’m not as focused on the seeds I eat as this little chickadee was, and I prefer mine unshelled and lightly salted.

Then God said, “Behold, I have given you every plant yielding seed that is on the surface of all the earth, and every tree which has fruit yielding seed; it shall be food for you; Genesis 1:29

Today, as I remembered those moments with this intensely focused chickadee, another lesson nudged my heart.

My attention is easily disturbed by the flitting of other birds, the call in the distance of the pileated woodpecker, or the black spots called floaters in my eyes, to name three. It’s a long list.

These little birds are usually as easily distracted as me, so the dapper little fellow I watched the other day stood out from his crowd.

That led me to contemplate my continued lack of work on the new novel. When a spot on my glasses bugged me, I took them off to clean them and, squinting, said, “The story still feels blurry.”

When I wrote those words, the chickadee came to mind again.

To corral my wayward focus, I put my glasses back on and looked for quotes that might help. I’ve often found that another writer’s words can sometimes say what a wandering writer needs to read.

This quote from Mark Twain did that for me this morning: “You can’t depend on your eyes when your imagination is out of focus.”

In a while, I will focus my imagination on one tiny seed of the story, then toss it onto the page with great enthusiasm and look for the next seed.

I wonder if a small pile of perfectly shelled sunflower seeds would help. Just kidding – sort of.

Until Next Time,

Joy

The post Seed Tossing – A Double Lesson appeared first on Joy DeKok.

Jon and I enjoy the antics and intelligence of the chipmunks that live around us. They are excellent at breaking and entering the birdseed buckets. We smile when they are interrupted and run away, tails in the air, chipping their dismay when we interrupt their feasting.

They sure are cute. But this one might be the cutest chipmunk I’ve ever seen.

This little one already had two whole peanuts tucked in those cheek pouches and a few sunflower seeds. The third peanut was intended for immediate consumption. Our first moments together were sweet and gentle – look at those eyes! But then . . .

. . . I giggled, and my little companion showed me what an offended, maybe even disgusted, chipmunk looks like. When I laughed again (how could I not?) . . .

. . . I got the chipmunk cold shoulder!

Suddenly, the wind stopped its pre-winter howling song around my photo fort. That’s when I heard the crack and crunch of the peanut as it was unshelled and eaten by this unafraid, focused, and determined creature.

After eating another and another, she scurried off.

Watching her rush away home, I smiled at her tail held so high in the air and thanked God for these happy chipmunk moments.

Until Next Time,

Joy

The post One of the Cutest Chipmunks Ever appeared first on Joy DeKok.

No Holding Back ~ Joy DeKok

These few words by Chris Cleave, writer, novelist, and journalist, are some of the truest I’ve read about story writing/telling.

“Our stories are the tellers of us.”

Some of you have asked if I’m going to write another book. The answer is: I am already writing it. Those of you who have been with me on this writing journey for a while also know that when I finish one book, I tend to resist the next one. It’s the part of my process I like the least.

It leaves way too much time for overthinking and rolls out the red carpet of doubt.

While the other stories I’ve written have bits and pieces of me, this one starts with me walking along in a small town in MN where a quiet hello from a stranger stands out as if it happened months ago and not fifty-five years ago.

It is a good memory, yet I continued to ask myself, “Why does it still matter so much now?”

Trying to discover the answer, I decided to do a test run and write a paragraph or two. If the words went nowhere, it was a nice memory. If they went somewhere, it might be a very short story. Three single-spaced pages later, I wondered if maybe I had a novella in the works.

It took me a few weeks to decide it might be time to try on the discovery phase, where I tell myself the story in its rawest (think sushi) form. This time it felt like the story was telling me the story. Weird, I know.

The words revealed a sensitive soul who sees what others sometimes miss. A chatterbox with a quiet side when she has a good book to read and an apple to eat while immersed in the pages. She’s also an eavesdropper, a brave, precocious, flawed, odd, beautiful, delightful, lovely-spirited, full of Jesus character who felt too real.

She might need to be harnessed. Bridled. Reigned in. Yanked back. Shushed.

Or molded differently because she reminded me of the girl I wished I’d been when I was ten walking on that sidewalk and the woman she became by the time she turned sixty-five. But who wants to read about a wannabe me?

That question has the power to stop me in my tracks, delete documents, and almost convince me to quit writing.

The biggest surprise to me is that I like the parts where my story is lightly woven into hers. In the tapestry of words, I am, but one shade of thread in a thousand, and she is the rest. She’s the star, and I’m the shadow.

I’m the teller of her, and she’s the teller of me.

Until Next Time,

Joy

P. S. I won’t be holding her back. The story and readers deserve all of her.

The post No Holding Back appeared first on Joy DeKok .

“Creativity is not about me. It is not about you. It is not us somehow acting like little gods, creating on our own in the same way God creates. Although he asks us to imitate him, we are not imitators of God in this dimension. The most we can hope for is to respond appropriately and creatively to who God is and what he means. Creativity is a response.” Michael Card, Scribbling in the Sand

Perhaps these words stood out to me the first time I read them years ago, but today they sparkled across my mind and into my heart like gems of dew on blades of wild grass. My spirit responded with a silent sigh of deep agreement, relief, and refreshment.

I’ve tried to read books by authors and listen to speakers who hint or claim that because we’re made by Him in His image, and we’re called to imitate Him, all human creativity is Creation as in equal to God’s.

In my weaker moments, I wanted them to be right because then everything I wrote or said would be good, as in perfect.

But I had to reject their false claims because . . .

I can’t speak asters into existence or give them a honey-like scent.

Nor can I wake up their petals and cause them to stretch out in beauty.

There’s no way I can give the Red Admiral Butterfly its design or the goldenrod its radiance.

It’s impossible for me to place the design on the bee fly’s body or its wings.

God alone can do these things in the micro-space in our wildflower gardens and the unimaginable mega-space of His Creation.

We cannot equate our attempts at creativity with the enormity of His power to Create.

But we can respond creatively to God. If Michael Card is right, and I think he is, that is one way we worship Him.

Until Next Time,

Joy

The post God Alone appeared first on Joy DeKok .

Choices ~ A Gentle Lesson ~ Joy DeKok

Author Note – this post has a happy ending. I promise.

Today was a day off chemo, and I decided that I would have an Author’s Date since I was feeling better than I have in a while. That’s when I go out with just me and all my techie tools to one of the local Caribous and do something fun while drinking coffee I love. No sweet or creamy stuff, although I enjoy them sometimes, but black is my favorite. And since it was lunchtime, a toasted bagel with almond honey cream cheese would be the perfect meal.

While they prepped my lunch, I got my table and tools ready for action.

After eating, I fired up my computer with one goal – to read my friend’s new book on prayer. When I got to the second chapter, what felt like disaster struck. I spilled my still almost full cup of coffee.

After picking up my empty cup, my immediate dilemma was deciding which thing to grab first: computer, E-reader, phone, or journal. With the coffee running in all directions and soaking into my favorite shirt and jeans, I quickly moved each to the other chair.

Then I needed napkins. Lots of them. And they were at the counter, and I thought, “Cool. I’ll get some help with the cleanup.”

Relieved there was a woman at the counter watching me, I said, “I made a mess . . .” I was going to ask for help, but after nodding, she walked away. I grabbed a bunch of napkins and went to rescue my things.

Napkins weren’t enough, so I returned to the counter where she was again standing and asked for a wet towel. She handed me a dirty one. After cleaning up the mess, I fumed silently while polishing the table to a high shine with yet more napkins and told myself a few things. My internal conversation when like this:

“When I get this cleaned up, I’m going to tell her I could have used some real help and a clean cloth. After all, it would have been the least she could have done. Right? Yes, right! Then I’m going to lodge a formal complaint with the manager – maybe even in writing. And I will surely mention the lack of customer service and the filthy towel.”

Oh yeah. I was on a roll.

When my stuff was as dry, I returned the towel to the counter where the woman no longer stood. I laid it out so she could see it was now dripping wet with my coffee. Surely that would earn me a fresh cup on the house, right? Nope.

That was the last straw, and I was going to teach her a lesson she wouldn’t forget. I would have satisfaction and a fresh cup of coffee, although my stomach clenched at the thought of more acid.

On my way back to the table, I decided the last thing I would do before I left was to stop in the women’s restroom and cry. I’d waited for a day like this for weeks, most of them the chemo-rugged kind. In the years before cancer, I’d had Author Dates regularly. On Fridays. Now, most of my Fridays are spent at Mayo.

First, I sat down, holding my stomach, which was now burning. My acid reflux was in overdrive, and I had no Pepcid. I thought to myself, “Well, isn’t this just fine?”

When I looked at my reflection on my dark computer screen and discovered my wig was on its way off my head – only slightly, but enough to notice. I pulled it back into place gently and took a shuddery breath. I was on an emotional edge. That’s when I told myself, “Pack it in and go home. It’s time for a nap. You are done.”

I shut the computer but stayed seated. I was determined to rally around my plans of complaints, criticism, and crying, but the anger evaporated. To my surprise, peace and quiet washed over me.

That was not me. That was God.

While my computer booted up, I tried to fire the anger back up and wondered if the enemy of my soul was doing his nasty best to ruin my long-hoped-for day. I wanted to blame him so badly. Surely this was spiritual warfare. Like when my friend’s dishwasher broke down, and she knew it was straight from the devil. At the time, I wondered because the machine was about fifteen years old, but she was much wiser than me, so maybe this was that.

Yeah – I know – so much drama over spilled coffee.

But the powerful calm wasn’t done with me, so I listened to the silent voice that spoke to me in love.

I had a choice to react or to respond.

My options were:

In power, not my own, I decided on the second choices, and I stayed. Instead of giving the woman behind the counter a lesson she wouldn’t forget, I received one from God, who loves me enough to teach me.

Does that mean that God spilled my coffee? No, I did that.

I’m back home now, and our Tucker is snuggled in close, my Pepcid is doing its work, and I’m wearing clean clothes again. My favorite shirt is soaking in the sink, and there’s a possibility I won’t get the stains out, but that’s okay. I will choose another shirt as my new favorite. Plus, my black jeans won’t show a stain, so that’s good. Besides, it’s Friday night, I’m feeling mostly okay, and my husband will take Tucker and me for a ride.

Until Next Time,

Joy

P. S. I’m reading chapter four in my friend’s book and am loving it! I can hardly wait to share it with you all soon.

The post Choices ~ A Gentle Lesson appeared first on Joy DeKok .

From the driver’s seat of our John Deere Gator, I focused on a radiant red cardinal flower. A moment later, movement in the field caused a sway in the blossoms.

Her closeness surprised me. She batted her tail at a fly, looked around, and came closer. Quietly. Calmly. Unafraid. As if she already knew me, which is possible. I’m positive our animal neighbors closely watch us.

I looked at her and said, “Hello, lovely one.”

That’s when . . .

. . .she came closer yet.

If you know me, it won’t surprise you that I kept talking out loud to her and the Lord. She ate wildflower leaves as if being in that place with me was as normal as the spots on her young back. When she tried and spit out a coneflower petal, I giggled. She chose another leaf and moved closer to me.

Not wanting to keep her mother from her, I started our old Gator, which is ruggedly loud, and backed it up. I expected her to bound gracefully away.

Instead, she followed me across the driveway towards the other field, where she again flicked flies and, this time, munched on the leaves of small self-seeded trees in the grass. She enjoyed them very much.

I continued talking to her, and she didn’t seem to mind. I got off the Gator and walked near the other field. She followed, taking a bite of this and that along the way, drawing ever closer. She paused to sniff the air in my direction as if adding my scent to her internal knowledge of me.

When she was less than a foot away, she sniffed toward my hand, and I almost reached out to her but resisted. I left being touched by her up to her. She came close enough, and I felt her breath on my hand.

A sweet privilege.

Then she frolicked the way young animals do – with sweet abandon and joy.

After about an hour with her, she turned to go. Perhaps she heard her mother call her the way mine used to when a day of play was over, and it was near my bedtime. I whispered, “Goodbye, Blessing, I love you,” and took one last photo.

Until Next Time,

Joy

The post Blessing appeared first on Joy DeKok .

#AmWriting

Getting back into the routine of writing has been hard recently. (see the link to my latest blog post below) . Looking back, I realize this lag is part of my norm. It happens every time. I’m praying this will change.

But I’ve been doing a lot of reading, so I’m not complaining too much.

After you read this, I’d like to know what you’re reading and why – post your thoughts in the comments.

#AmBlogging

I didn’t get much blogging done this month, although I posted a couple of things on my FB Author Page. Have you looked there yet? You can check it out HERE. https://www.facebook.com/JoyDeKokAuth...

Here’s the latest from my blog: Resisting

#AmSocial

#AmMarketing (my books and those of others) Click the covers to see the books on Amazon. 

Raccoon Tales is 99 cents today through May 31, 2022!

Rain Dance is now permanently 99 cents!

Mosaic Books Collection:

1531 Entertainment:

#AmReading

Here are a couple of books I’ve enjoyed in the last couple of weeks:

Looking for a sweet, clean, fun, romantic comedy?

Although I’m sure I’m older than the author, this book brought back memories from my own teen and young adult years, including children being airlifted out of Saigon. I saw the news in my mind and cried – again. Such a good book!

On my #ToBeReadList:

If you know me, you know that I love this series by Heather Day Gilbert!

And this one by Charles Martin. Sometimes fiction can go where other forms of art cannot. This is one of those series. Start with book one, The Water Keeper. This is not an easy read, but it is riveting.

That’s it for now.

Until Next Time,

Joy

The post Joy’s Author Newsletter – May 2022 appeared first on Joy DeKok .