Fathomed Cover Reveal!

Fathomed Cover Reveal!

by | Jun 25, 2026 | Cover Designs, Fantasy, Thoughtful Thursdays

It’s cover reveal time!

Now, I know my usual cover reveals lately have been rather involved, as I share about the characters and show you some of the images I’ve generated.

This one is a bit different…because I’ve already shown you all the characters, LOL. This is for Fathomed, which is the compilation of my three Awakened bonus-stories. (I call them novellas, but Consecrated is actually too long to be a novella…it’s a short novel.) So you’ve already met:

Brenn

Electra

Luciana

And we’ve also already seen the awesome illustrated covers for each that my daughter, Xoe, created for them–which I LOVE!!

Brenn

Electra

Luciana

Now I adore this artwork and love my daughter’s style for these shorter books…but her style is different from the style of Caroline, who does the character art for my full-length books in the series. As I was debating what to do for the compilation cover, I decided that since this book would be in print, it needed to look like the other books in the series stylistically, so that when they’re all together on a shelf, they look like a set. So I reached out to Caroline to say, “Hey, um…can I have you do another illustration super quick?” And Caroline, lovely friend that she is, said, “Of course!”

So we got going. =)

This time, we did things a bit differently. Before, she did the character art first and then I found/created a background to go with it. But this time, I’d already been playing around with images (trying to create this cover without imposing on her for another illustration at the end of the school year, when I knew things were crazy for her) and had a background I already liked:

So I sent this to Caroline, and she said it was SO NICE to have the background–it allowed her to scale and position the character to fit it. So that’s what we’ll be doing from now on, for sure! We tried a couple different positions, because I thought I knew what I wanted…but ended up liking another she tried better.

What I thought I wanted…

What we both liked far better…

So Caroline got to work making that sketch into a full character design. She first played with (again) the colors I told her  I wanted…

Which is GORGEOUS. I would have been totally content with that. But then Caroline texted one day to say, “What about a pearl overlay over her top?” She sent as an example these stunning bridal tops from Catherine Dean.

How was I supposed to say no to THAT?? Soooooo pretty! So of course, I said, “YES, let’s try that!!”

The results were stunning. We debated whether to do the pink tail with it but ultimately decided to stick with the color scheme from the stories and went with a pebbled ray-skin in more muted colors. Which gave us our final illustration! I had only to put the text on, and voila!

So here it is–the cover of Fathomed: The Awakened Mer Novellas.

Isn’t she pretty?? And just look at how beautiful the series is together!

Here’s the official back cover copy for the compilation:

Power flows beneath the surface of the deep…but so do the secrets that could undo it.

In the waters of the Atla and Calm Water mer, magic is both a gift and a burden—binding rulers to duty, testing loyalties, and demanding sacrifices that echo across generations. From a princess on the brink of a crown she never wanted, to a queen who has borne its weight for nearly a century, to a distant kingdom where ancient laws threaten to destroy everything they were meant to protect, these three stories reveal a different thread in the fragile tapestry of the Awakened world.

Because beneath the surface, love, faith, and destiny are always at war with the cost of power.

CAPTIVATED

Brenn has spent her life dreading the crown—and the responsibility it demands. But when her father’s failing health makes her ascension inevitable, she seeks guidance from the one ruler she trusts: her cousin beneath the sea. Instead, she finds a kingdom on the brink of rebellion…and the one man she has never been able to forget. Atlas chose the mer over her years ago, and now he may be the only one who can help her survive long enough to claim a throne she never wanted.

CELEBRATED

For nearly a century, Queen Electra has led her people with strength and faith—but even the strongest rulers cannot escape loneliness. Each year at Holytide, she allows herself one night to remember joy…one night with the man she should never have loved. But when strangers arrive from distant waters with an offer that could reshape their world, the fragile balance she has fought to maintain begins to shift—and the past she thought she understood may no longer hold true.

CONSECRATED

In Soltierra, Crown Princess Luciana is slowly giving her life to sustain her kingdom—while her sister refuses to accept that such a sacrifice is necessary. Far beyond the desert, King Koa of the Calm Water Mer faces a different crisis as his people’s magic begins to fail. When land and sea come together in search of answers, both must confront a truth they have long avoided: the laws meant to preserve their world may be the very thing destroying it.

Here’s what the full cover will look like too. My new gauge for deciding if these covers are done is if looking at them just brings me joy–and this one definitely does. I love the colors!

This print compilation will be coming this summer…we need to see when the printer can squeeze us in, and then we’ll be creating a printed-edge design! You can, of course, go ahead and pre-order the paperback now, and they’ll ship as soon as we have them in hand!

Pre-Order Now
25 Years

25 Years

by | Jun 18, 2026 | Thoughtful Thursdays

Yesterday, my husband and I celebrated our 25th anniversary. So naturally, for this week’s post, you get mushy-gushy musings. 😉

We got married young–we were both 18. There were plenty of people who told us we were making a mistake, that we were too young to know what we wanted, and why didn’t we just live together first to make sure we were compatible? Um, no. 

Were we young? Absolutely. Too young? Absolutely not. Because we both went into this marriage with an understanding of what marriage is supposed to be, fully dedicated, and also fully aware that it wasn’t about me but about each other, about us, and about being made one by the One who made us.

We were young…so we finished growing up together. We wove our dreams together. We did every stage of life together. We moved, we had two precious children who are both adults now, we fought for those dreams together. We weathered the storms together.

And now, twenty-five years after we said, “I do,” we look back and marvel at how deep the love has grown. Especially in these last two years as we’ve had the cancer battle.

David has always loved me in a way that boggles my mind. I’ve always known that he would do absolutely anything for me, that I and the kids come first (of things on earth–let’s not try to compete with God, LOL). He has told me every day of our life together that I’m beautiful, and I couldn’t begin to count the times in the day that he says he loves me. I know that all I have to do is draw near to him, and his arms will come around me.

But since my diagnosis, that’s deepened still more. And he has marveled so many times over these last two years at how this disease we obviously never wanted taught us both new things about love. “How is it possible,” he has wondered so many times, “that this has made me love you more?” We obviously don’t like cancer–but these new depths of love are something we’re both grateful for and amazed at. And I am so, so blessed.

As a romance writer, I’ve written many a hero. On the surface, they’re not usually like David. But their hearts, the way they love…they’re all David, at least in bits and pieces. He reads all my books for me, which I absolutely love. Not just because then the characters become part of our family, people we talk about in everyday life, but because as he’s reading them, he always says the most amazing things, about my writing and about how he sees me in them. I know not every writer has that support, and it means the world to me that I do.

For our 25th, we were planning a big trip. Probably the Azores in Portugal. We wanted a European adventure. But with my chemo infusions, my oncologist advised “no flight longer than 3 hours,” which eliminated any European destinations. And so, we looked up where on our continent we could find the most European feel, and we decided to go to Quebec City. That’s where we are today–I scheduled this post several weeks ago. Hopefully, we’re having a wonderful time sipping coffee from cafes, strolling the historic district, and just being together.

And praising God for 25 years. Praying for 25 more, and then more beyond that. Looking back over our quarter-of-a-century together with amazement, and looking ahead with anticipatory joy for whatever the Lord has in store for us next.

I’ve written a lot of love stories. And the inspiration for them just keeps on coming. Because I’m living my favorite one.

Gravity

Gravity

by | Jun 11, 2026 | Thoughtful Thursdays

This summer, my best friend, Stephanie Morrill, and I are reading Designing Your Life together. Given that it’s a very-much-bestselling book, you may have heard of it already. If not, it’s basically using design techniques (reframing, iteration, etc) to design a life that builds you joy, whatever season you’re in. All about intentionality, looking at things in new ways, and asking yourself the right questions. It also involves a lot of self-awareness, which is something my hubby and I think and talk about a lot.

Stephanie and I will be, in general, reading a chapter or section every week and doing the exercises, then talking about it during our Friday checkins. Of course, our Junes are a bit crazy, so we had our first chat at the end of May and then will have to take 3 weeks off while we’re both traveling, LOL.

I imagine as the summer progresses, I’ll have lots more thoughts and will likely share here what we’re working through. Today, I want to talk about just one thing that the authors bring up in the introduction.

Gravity.

They use this term to refer to things in life that we can’t change–things we can’t fight against. Things that might get us down (ha! punny…) but which we can do nothing about. And because we can do nothing about them, they do not, therefore, rate as “problems” in the design way of thinking, because they can’t be solved.

Gravity isn’t going anywhere. And neither are quite a few other things in life.

As I began the first activities in the book, filling out the gauges on a “dashboard” for different parts of life, this notion of “gravity” was immediately useful. See, one of the dashboard categories is “health.” In general, health is something we can change.

We can work out more.
We can eat better.
We can adjust our sleep patterns.
We can take (or stop taking) medications.
We can do stretches.
We can drink more water.
We can cut out caffeine or sugar or fill-in-the-blank.

And so on. 

But for me right now, that will only get me so far. Part of my health is gravity. I’m in a year-long chemo regimen, and the leading side effect is “tiredness.” I’m feeling that, guys. At first, I was just super tired for the first couple days after an infusion. Then it was the first week. Then the first two weeks. At this point, the tired never exactly goes away, though it isn’t as intense.

And with tiredness comes a lot of other things. I don’t have the energy to do much by way of exercising…or cooking. Sleep doesn’t actually help.

Right now, my health is a gravity issue. Which means that instead of fussing over it or getting hung up on it, I accept it and work on other problems that can actually have solutions. I focus on what to do with the energy I have, how best to make use of my time and resources.

It’s a great way to think about all sorts of things in life though, isn’t it? There are things we can change–and there are things we can’t. How often do we waste energy–and certainly emotional and mental space–on the things that just are?

What are your “gravity” issues in life right now?

Jealous

Jealous

by | May 28, 2026 | Thoughtful Thursdays

Last week, I received some great news. I learned that two of my books, The Collector of Burned Books and The Christmas Book Flood, were finalists in one of Christian Fiction’s most prestigious awards, the Carol Awards of ACFW (American Christian Fiction Writers). This was a lovely thing to learn. Lovely enough that I made a pretty image to share on social media. 

Lovely enough to make my day. But it also got me thinking.

The first time I blogged about contests and awards and the twisty paths that God takes us on in our careers was way back in 2012. That previous year, I had two books release–Jewel of Persia in January and Love Finds You in Annapolis, Maryland (now A Heart’s Revolution) in November. Which meant in April 2012, I had two books eligible for awards…neither of which had finaled in anything.

In that post from 14 years ago, I mused that I didn’t know if God would ever lead me on a path that included an award, for a very simply reason: I wasn’t sure my heart was ready for such a thing.

See, I’m a competitive person. Not in sports, LOL–but in the things I love. I was always the best in the school–but I never won a writing contest, even back in middle school. Even though it was “my thing.” I wasn’t the first of my writing friends to be published, I haven’t been the most successful, certainly not the most award-winning, also not the best selling. And that’s something I’ve had to grapple with all through my career.

It might be “my thing.” God has blessed me with success in the ways that matter. But He’s also made it clear over and again that my job is not to win awards–my job is to win hearts. My job is not to be the best–my job is to do my best and to give glory to Him. My job is not to write a book that sells a million copies–my job is to tell the stories He lays on my heart.

When I wrote that first post on the subject in 2012, I said that God hadn’t impressed on me that I shouldn’t enter contests…but He did, soon after. First, in the year to follow, it was that I wasn’t to put money into it. Then it was that I could only enter one award, for a very specific reason. Then it was a clear directive not to enter them at all–not personally. If my publishers wanted to enter my books in the Christy Award, they could–but that was on them. I, however, would not enter other awards. Why?

Jealousy, friends. Because I knew myself. When I had a book entered into an award, I wanted to win. And yeah, I daresay most authors do–why else enter? But I didn’t like myself when I didn’t win or final. I didn’t like the way that jealousy gripped my heart. I didn’t like the feeling of “Why not me? Wasn’t my book good enough?” Or even worse, “But I’ve read that book and it was not better than mine!”

That isn’t who I want to be. That isn’t the heart I want to have.

And so, for the last 13 or so years, I obeyed that stay the Lord had given me. I did not enter contests on my own. In that time, I was nominated for the Christy Award (publisher submitted) 4 times and won once. And each year when that publisher-nominated contest announcement rolled around, I would gauge my own emotions.

How am I doing? Am I jealous? Am I falling prey to that competitive nature again? Am I slipping into pride?

In the last two years, a lot has changed in my world. And a lot has changed in my jealousy. You know what makes me jealous now?

Eyebrows. I will look at your lush eyebrows and absolutely long for my own. 😉 (Okay, so I don’t want to pluck yours off and steal them, but man, do I wish I had eyebrows I didn’t have to draw on every day!)

A full head of hair. I was so, so excited when my hair started regrowing after chemo, and to have it thinning again on this new treatment…it’s hard. And so yeah, when I see so many friends carelessly (ha!) posting pics of their gorgeous hair…

Old age. While looking jealously at eyebrows is hilarious, this one has really hit hard. It used to be that I would see the old women shuffling into a pew at church with their canes and I’d say a prayer for them and, if I’m honest, pity them a bit for their obvious difficulties.

Now? Now I look at them and think how lucky they are. How blessed they are. Because I want that. I want to live long enough to have arthritis in my joints and a head of white hair. I want to live long enough to go from a stride to a shuffle. I want to live long enough that my face is just a mass of wrinkles.

And I am so keenly aware that I have no guarantee of it. We never do–but these last two years, this last six months especially, has hammered that home to me. As I’ve sat in my pew with tears in my eyes as I wait for test results and scans to tell me whether I’m in Stage 4 cancer, whether I’ll be on palliative care for the rest of what is sure to not be a super long life, I know in a way I just couldn’t know before how precious this life is. How fragile. How crucial. How each day, each week, each month, each year, each decade is a profound gift.

This is a new kind of jealousy. There’s nothing dark in it–nothing envious. There’s no I want to take what’s yours. There’s simply, I want that too. And a bit of Do you understand the gift you have?

I’m not in Stage 4 cancer. I currently have no cancer in my body. But I’m still in a year-long chemo cycle. I’ll be getting scans every few months for many years to come. And that’s always going to be a shadow over me. It’s always going to be a reminder that I might not reach my 80s or my 90s or certainly not the 104 I always joked I’d live to. It’s a reminder that I must live my now with purpose. I must keep my eyes always on God.

And so, this is the mindset I’ve been in this year, as I pray new prayers for those little old ladies who walk so slowly into church with their canes in hand. This is the mindset I was in when contest-entry season rolled around again this year.

The last decade, I just let it pass me by, that directive in mind. But this year…I felt a shift. And so I prayed about it. I asked God, “Do you want me to enter?” And I examined the reasons I would or wouldn’t. 

I had one primary reason for wanting to–to thank Tyndale. My new publisher took a chance on me with The Collector of Burned Books after my previous publisher passed on it, and I wanted to thank them. Do contest wins increase sales? Nope. And that’s always the bottom line. But even so, publishers do like having award wins. It’s a respect thing in the industry. I wanted to enter for them. Because if it could win, I wanted them to have that.

So in the course of a week, I entered a few awards. I don’t honestly remember how many or which ones (how hilarious is that?!). The Carols, for sure. I entered Awakened in the Realm Awards (didn’t final). And…I think there was one other? Maybe? Seriously, I can’t remember, which I think is a good sign that my heart isn’t wrapped up in it.

I knew that the Carol Awards would be announced last Wednesday on the ACFW Facebook page. I looked up the time earlier (and, ahem, had the wrong time in mind, forgetting it said “central”). And then I sat down with a good book and got completely engrossed and 100% forgot the awards were even a thing until my phone buzzed with a message from Marisa (friend and one of our primary editors at WhiteFire). The text said, “Congratulations on your double Carol nominations!”

This is a pattern with me, LOL. Someone else has had to tell me about my finals almost every time. I might have caught one or two, maybe. Maybe. But usually, I’ve forgotten to pay attention. Another good sign, for me.

In this life, I may never fully escape the competitiveness I’ve always had. But I pray that with the Lord, I use it to continually improve and challenge myself. I pray that every pang of jealousy, whether over something professional or those lush eyebrows of yours (LOL), will make me pause to pray for that person. I hope that as I contemplate the twisty path God has led me on to get me right here, I’ll look forward, not to the bends in the road but to my destination.

Him.

I don’t know if it’ll be a day or a year or a decade or a century until I see Him face to face. But I do know that what I yearn for most in the time I have left has nothing to do with awards or bestseller status, even though those things are nice. What I yearn for most is to walk worthy of His call. To be a mirror reflecting His light. To be who He wants me to be.

I’ll be at the ACFW conference this year, present at the awards gala–because I’m there representing WhiteFire, and David will be too. It would be nice to win. But more than that, it will be a joy to be in a room with my people. With other writers who love God and story. To see my agent and my editor in person. To hug friends. To hear people pitch their stories to me. It will be utter joy to immerse myself for a few days in this world that is MY WORLD, the one filled with words and stories and the people who steward them.

And yeah–you can bet I’ll be paying attention to eyebrows. 😉 I’ll probably be a bit self-conscience about my obviously-thinning hair. And I will be praising Him that I’m there. That I’m here. That He’s given me this time. It isn’t another year to try to win awards.

It’s another year to glorify Him with the words He’s given me.

Is Saying No a Virtue?

Is Saying No a Virtue?

by | May 21, 2026 | Thoughtful Thursdays

Have you ever noticed how saying “No” sounds so virtuous, so righteous? No matter what we’re saying it to, it has that ring of virtue when someone declares, “Oh, I never…”

Most recently, it struck me with, “I would never use AI for anything.” But I’ve heard it so many times before, about so many things.

“I never eat _____” Meat, gluten, sugar.

“I would never own a gun.”

“I never use the clothes dryer; I hang my laundry on the line.”

And each of these comes with moral statements: It’s unhealthy, guns kill people, it’s a waste of energy.

All these things are true…but are they really moral judgments? Does God mind if I eat a steak or a piece of bread or a slice of cake? Pretty sure He doesn’t. Does God mind if I own a gun? As someone who lives in a community of hunters and who grew up eating the food my dad put on our table thanks to his rifle, I’m gonna say no. And is my Lord shaking His divine head at me because laundry day is Saturday, rain or shine, so that the rest of my week can be dedicated to other things? Again, I have never once felt like He was judging me for it.

But I’ve sure felt judged by people.

There are so many sins we need to say “No” to. Paul gives us some pretty thorough lists in Galatians and Romans, for starters: sexual immorality, impurity, sensuality, idolatry, sorcery, enmity, strife, jealousy, fits of rage, rivalries, dissensions, factions, envy, drunkenness, orgies, injustice, depravity, greed, evil, envy, murder, bickering, lies, meanness, gossip, slander, hatred of God, insults, pride, disobedience to parents, senselessness, faithlessness, heartlessness, ruthlessness.

Can food or guns or technology (from dryers to AI) lead us into sin? Absolutely.

Are the things themselves sins? Absolutely not.

Years ago, I wrote an article here called “Not a Virtue,” and it’s something I’ve been thinking about ever since. Because we put value judgments on EVERYTHING. Including things that are NOT VIRTUES. Being outside rather than inside is not a virtue. Getting a tan or not is not a virtue. Your laundry choices are not a virtue. Even reading a book instead of watching television is not a virtue. In that post, I ask myself this:

What else have I mistaken as a virtue that isn’t? What do I pursue, thinking it a Good, when it is at best a “good,” but most likely just a thing? Where do I have my eyes fixed on the earthly, where they should be fixed on the heavenly?

I go through my particular examples–reading, political views, tanning (seriously, LOL), spending time outdoors. And then settle here:

I’m sure there are many other places that I need to separate “enjoyable” or “worthwhile” from truly VIRTUOUS, and it’s something I’ve begun keeping an eye out for. Because plenty of things really are worthwhile and can enrich our lives and our faith…but if we apply that “virtuous” label to them, then we think they’re good for everyone, because virtues ARE. But these things are NOT on that level. They can be good, yes…but they are not required for all. They can be good without being virtuous.

After the discussion on AI after I posted My AI Policy two weeks ago, I was reminded of how this issue has a flipside–not only do we equate things with virtues that have no moral implications in and of themselves, but we also equate things with evil that have no moral implications in and of themselves.  So we think saying no to them is righteous.

My friends, we need to be careful with this…because this does lead us into sin. It leads us into slander and gossip; it leads us into strife and rivalries and fits of rage. It leads us into dissensions and factions and meanness–and lies. Do you know how many authors have been witch-hunted and ruined because of the accusation (not proof, just accusation) of using AI in their books? When quite often they can prove they didn’t–but no one cares about that?

It has to stop. Not just in this topic, but in so many. We as humanity get so set on what we think is good and not good, taking the decisions we’ve made for ourselves and applying those definitions to everyone, that we completely lose sight of the real goal. We create toxic environments more about holding people to our standards than holding people to God’s standards. More about judging than encouraging each one to stretch themselves out toward God in the way He calls them and draws them.

In that AI conversation two weeks ago (and in the last two years), I quite often hear authors I respect saying they use AI in ways I wouldn’t. And yeah, my first thought is, “Ugh. I don’t know about that.” But I don’t have to. My job is to remain true to what God calls ME to. No one else. Because you know what? There were plenty of authors a few decades ago who swore they’d never use a computer and insisted the more tactile typewriter was superior in every way–and sometimes some people turned it into a value judgment. But it isn’t. And before that, in the age when typewriters came on the scene? People thought using them took the soul out of writing.

Did it? Does my writing have no soul because I’m not doing it by hand, on paper? I obviously don’t think so. And given that you’re reading this very-much-written-on-a-computer little essay and may even enjoy my novels (which are 100% typed, I am not one of those people who write anything by hand–my typing speed can almost keep up with my brain, but my handwriting cannot!), I will assume you don’t think so either.

But in the late 19th century? People were adamant. They were convinced. They judged each other. 

Now we look at it and shake our heads.

And that’s what bothers me most about these arguments about AI lately. Yes, there are reasonable, legitimate concerns, and they need to be addressed. But I’ve seen statements about how “no good can come of it” because of X, Y, or Z. (Stealing, environmental concerns, displacing human artists.) And I just want to say to us all (myself included), be careful. Be careful telling God he can’t bring good out of something you don’t like. Be careful calling out the new example when we’re perfectly fine with the old one. 

Because there’s nothing new under the sun–even when it comes to advances in technology. People have always stolen. People have always rushed industry without concern for environment. People have always displaced human workers with new technology. Those things are bad, yes. But they’re not beyond redemption. And if we tossed out every advancement that ever caused something like that…well, we’d be back in the Dark Ages.

We need to remember that our no does not need to be a universal no. I absolutely respect someone who will not own a gun because they knew someone killed by a gunshot. Their feelings make all the sense in the world, as does the line they draw. But hunting fed my family growing up–so it’s not a line I share. The thing is not the good or the evil. It’s how we use it.

It’s always how we use it. And it’s more than that–it’s how our hearts incline. Toward God, first and foremost. And to each other. Are we viewing those whose views differ from ours with love…or with judgment? If you’re a proponent for something, do you scoff at those with concerns? If you have concerns, do you judge as immoral those who don’t?

Is that what God asks of you?

We need to identify the problems, the issues, the moral implications of everything we do, YES. And then we need to address them. Doing so doesn’t require eliminating the things people are misusing. When Jesus tells us to cut off our hand or pluck out our eye lest we sin, He is addressing us, our tendencies, not the things we use to sin. He doesn’t say to kill the beautiful person lest you lust after them or to banish food stalls lest you’re tempted to steal a piece of fruit or to melt down swords lest you kill someone with them.

Sin begins in us. Not outside. Virtue begins in us. Not outside. The things, my friends, are just things. We can use them or misuse them or abuse them.

And as always, we need to remember that calling out sin with the wrong heart leads us straight into it ourselves. The Pharisees were zealous for the law because they saw the consequences of failing to keep it and said, “Never again.” And then imposed their rules on others. God loves when we’re zealous for Him…but not when we turn it into persecution of others.

I pray that we can all remember that–I know I need the reminder. When it comes to politics, when it comes to AI, when it comes to…everything. Because we love to turn everything into a moral, ethical judgment. But sometimes all we’re accomplishing is hardening our hearts and drifting farther away from His love.

Death in Christian Fiction

Death in Christian Fiction

by | May 14, 2026 | Thoughtful Thursdays

A couple weeks ago, I was involved in a wonderful, long conversation with a group of friends about death in Christian fiction. One of the friends has written a series in which the main character dies. She knew responses would be…varied. That though she’d set this up from book one and delivered an arc of spiritual redemption and the ultimate love story with Christ above all, some readers would hate it. And as someone who loves her happily-ever-afters, I get that. But it also made me ask myself a lot of good questions. So I figured I’d share them here.

First, I look at some of my favorite books. One of them is A Voice in the Wind by Francine Rivers. Another is The Last Battle by C. S. Lewis, the final installment of the Chronicles of Narnia. (Spoiler alert! If you have not read either of these books and intend to, skip the rest of this paragraph! But given that both have been out for decades…I’m gonna talk about the endings, LOL.) In both of them, main characters die (in the case of Rivers’s book, we think the character dies and learn in the next book she didn’t…but for the purposes of THAT BOOK, she dies).

And in both of them, I count them as favorites not because the story delivered what I wanted…but because the story delivered what I needed.

Though I read The Last Battle long before A Voice in the Wind, I don’t honestly remember my reaction to it as I read it (I was in third grade). What I remember is the impression it left on me. When I was rereading the series to my kids when they were in middle school, it struck me how much of my theology–my understanding of God and His mercy and His love and His righteousness, what heaven really is and what earth really isn’t–came from that book.

Through his story, Lewis showed me a biblical truth it’s so easy to overlook in this life: that this life is but the echo. The reflection. That real life is not here, it’s in heaven. This is an imitation, and when it passes away–when we pass away–we are not losing something. We’re gaining something. And that’s cause for rejoicing, not mourning. Heaven is the ultimate happily-ever-after. And though we who are left on earth mourn when we lose someone, because they’re no longer here with us, for the person joining Christ in heaven, there’s no room for grief. The joy is too great.

That’s a beautiful thing. 

When it comes to A Voice in the Wind, I do remember my reaction when I read it. I was probably 14 or so. I remember getting to the end and thinking, “No. NO. NOOOOO!!” And hating, at first, that this was how she ended the book. And then sitting back and letting it sink in. And coming to a very different conclusion.

That this was not an ending I liked. But it was an ending I loved. Because it was beautiful. It showed me that it’s better to die for Christ than to deny Him. That following Him might have consequences, but they’re worth it. That death is not the end.

It was the first time in my memory that I saw the beauty in what I didn’t want to happen and admitted that it was better than the victory I desired.

That’s a life lesson that’s stuck with me.

As a writer, I’ve killed characters before. POV characters. Even some that you might consider main characters (though never THE main character). (Okay, funny story. So a main character dies halfway through A Stray Drop of Blood. It was, in fact, the thing around which I’d planned THE WHOLE BOOK. Because it’s what led the heroine to Golgotha. When I wrote A Soft Breath of Wind, the next-generation sequel, someone asked, “You don’t kill a main character in this one, do you?” And I replied with, “Uhhhhhh.” If you’ve read it, you know why. If you haven’t, you should. 😉 Because it has a VERY HAPPY by traditional definitions ending, but there’s some death involved. In the happy. I promise. Anyway!)

Back to my point. 😉 I’ve killed main characters–but that’s not usually the end of the story. It’s usually the middle. It’s what points my other characters in the direction that leads them to the climax. It hurts. And it’s supposed to, because losing people hurts us. But it’s also an inescapable part of life, and it’s a spiritual victory for a Christian, and sometimes we need reminders of that too.

Sometimes we need reminders that this life is the imitation. That this life is the prelude. That this life is the prequel. Our real story begins when we fall at the feet of Christ.

But as readers, we have expectations. And sometimes what we want from a book is escape from the hard things–I get that. I’m a mood reader, so I will absolutely reach for a rom-com when life’s too hard already. Or a fantasy, where I am literally taken to a whole different world. I’m not always in the emotional place to pick up a heavy book.

Sometimes, I pick one up not knowing that’s what I’m getting. Sometimes, those stories devastate me. Sometimes, I struggle, because what I wanted was not what I got. 

But you know what? Every time, it’s what I need. It’s God using fiction to teach me something true. It’s God reminding me that though I may turn my face away from the hard things, that’s not where healing lies. It’s not where understanding will find me. It’s not where I’ll reconcile with those difficult truths. It’s only in facing them that I’ll finally be brought to the point where I throw myself into His arms.

As authors, we know we have to balance reader expectations with the stories we need to tell. Sometimes, that means clueing readers in early that this is a certain kind of book. In the one I just turned into Tyndale, we start with my heroine arriving at a concentration camp then jump back to “the real story.” You know all along where she ends up–but guess what? There’s another ending too. In A Soft Breath of Wind, which does indeed have a shocking (both in bad and good ways) ending, the story starts with a demonic attack, quickly followed by the death of a loved one–those are your clues to what kind of story it is. In A Portrait of Loyalty, which kills a beloved (though not main or POV) character, we start with a train wreck and betrayal and war, and if you’re familiar with history, you likely know from the date that the Spanish Flu is about to strike London (and if not, you still know that this is a book about war and betrayal, so…).

Now, I have made a promise to my readers that every book will have a happy ending. There’s quite often a lot of not-so-happy along the way. I’m not sure I’m skilled enough to deliver an ending like Francine Rivers’s or C. S. Lewis’s, where the happy isn’t the earthly happy. Where it instead points the reader to that greater, more eternal happiness. I don’t know–but I know there are other writers whose whole purpose for a book or series was to paint a picture of that other truth.

That to live is Christ. And to die is gain.

It’s a hard truth. It’s a truth we might recite but rarely remember as we live. It’s a truth that becomes much more precious when you’ve stared death in the eyes.

And it was a timely conversation for me. Because yet again, I’m writing a book where a POV character dies–but this time, you know it from her very first scene. She’s living with a diagnosis of a disease that will kill her, no question. And it will happen in the next few months. I’d already decided that was Iraja’s story when I received my brain-tumor diagnosis (and I wrote about that here: Strange Timing). She was yet again a character I created for the sole purpose of showing her death. I didn’t know, when I first developed her role, that she would be the character through whom I worked through thoughts of my own mortality. I didn’t know she would become the model for how I wanted to live out the rest of my days, whether they were many or few. I didn’t know that God had given me this character because I needed to be able to process a diagnosis that pulled the rug out from under me for quite a few weeks and led to brain surgery and radiation and another year of chemo (even if my prognosis is, in fact, great).

But He knew.

Just as He knew every time I picked up a book with something in it I didn’t feel ready for that I was. That it was what I needed. He knows that sometimes my expectations need to be defied. And sometimes I need to wrestle with that defiance. Sometimes I need to be forcibly shown that what I think is best is just the in-the-mirror, dimly. Sometimes my happy ending isn’t what it’s all about.

Death is gut-wrenching. Death makes us cry. Death, probably more than anything else in this life, plunges us into denial, whether we are Christians or not.

And death can be beautiful too. Death can be where Christ shines through. Death can be where we see His hand–sometimes because His light has shone through that life so clearly; and sometimes because the deaths reveal the darkness that makes that Light so necessary.

Always, we need the reminder. That death is not defeat. Death is victory. Death is not a tragic ending for a believer–it’s a joyous one. 

Because death is not the end. It’s just the beginning.

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