My parish has three churches, each with a different history. There’s St. Mary’s, which was the Italian church. St. Patrick’s, which was (surprise, surprise, LOL) the Irish church. And Sts. Peter and Paul, which was the German church. I imagine back in the day, one wouldn’t think of going to one of the other churches rather than the one you belonged to, ethnically. Today, however, the churches are united and served by the same clergy, and service times always alternate between them.

Though our Sunday church is St. Mary’s, we love to go to daily mass at Sts. Peter and Paul. It’s just…beautiful. Ornate and gilded with soaring ceilings, murals, stunning stained glass, etc. And one of my favorite architectural highlights is at the very top of the church, right above the altar. There’s a gold circle with a dove.

Though none of our other churches have this, it used to be a standard feature in all churches…only, rather than just a gilded disc, it was once an actual hole at the top of the church. Why?

That dove is your clue–it was a hole through which the Holy Spirit was invited to descend and fill the sanctuary. As Christianity spread to colder climes, the hole was merely symbolic…but what a symbol, right?

We know that we don’t need an actual hole in the ceiling for the Spirit to come among us…but you know what we do need? A hole in our lives to let Him in through. We need to make space for Him. We need to give Him an opening. We need to invite Him in, and that’s exactly what those circles open to the heavens were meant to do.

They are the church saying, “Come, Holy Spirit.” And I love going into Sts. Peter and Paul and looking up at that golden reminder–a reminder that I need to say, “Come, Holy Spirit. Come into my life. Walk beside me. Shine Your light in my heart and show me my faults, banish the shadows.

As we recite the Nicene creed, I love to look up at that reminder when we get to the stanza about the Holy Spirit:

I believe in the Holy Spirit,
the Lord, the giver of life,
who proceeds from the Father and the Son,
who with the Father and the Son
is adored and glorified.,
who has spoken through the prophets.

In the Old Testament, we see the Spirit coming upon people almost forcefully. He didn’t dwell with them, but rather visited them. He is the one who whispered those words to the prophets, who made them abandon their humble lives to be the mouthpieces of God. He is fire and wind and that dove descending upon Christ. He is the part of the trinity that came upon Mary and planted Jesus in her womb.

He is the Comforter that Christ promised would not just visit us now and then, but who would dwell with us, leading us every step of the way.

And yet…we are now given a choice as to whether we let Him in. Not just once, but every day. We can ignore His voice. We can close the door, and too often we do, without even realizing it. We don’t have time or energy or desire to focus on the things of God, so we nudge Him out and stop up the gaps through which He comes. We ignore the nudges and the whisper and turn from the burning flame. We are given that freedom, that right.

But I pray that we regularly stop and wonder. We ask ourselves, “Have I invited Him in today?” I pray we always keep that place at the top of our beings open for the Holy Spirit. I pray we let Him fill us, use us, speak through us, speak to us. Jesus promises that the Spirit will always give us the words we need to speak…but first we have to ask Him to do so.

Let’s turn our eyes upward, my friends. And remember to extend that invitation.

The image I see when I look in the mirror has only rarely matched the image I carry of myself in my mind. I imagine we’re all like that. There are those who see fat or skinny when the world disagrees with them. There are those see young or old, fit or flabby, pretty or ugly. We hear a lot about people who have a negative body image, despite everyone around them thinking of their looks in a very positive light.

I remember back in high school, when I was already dating David, who would become my husband, thinking very frankly about my looks. I knew well I wasn’t super-model material, that I was far from the prettiest girl in my school, even. But I also knew that I was the kind of everyday pretty that, when viewed through the eyes of love, would make someone say I was the most beautiful woman in the world. Something David has said to me countless times over the years. He tells me every day–multiple times a day–that I’m pretty, and he says it in a tone of love and adoration. Never has a day gone by that he didn’t affirm me in this way. My parents have always been so affirming as well.

Maybe that’s why I never lacked for confidence. I know my physical flaws–I have no delusions. And when someone (other than those who love me) are too effusive in their praise, I give them the side-eye. But the me I feel like as I’m going through my day has so little to do with the me I see when I look in the mirror. I feel like I’m exactly who I need to be (most of the time). I feel like the me other people see will reflect that. Is it true? No idea, LOL. But it’s how I’ve gone through life.

Then came cancer. When I responded to losing half my hair within 24 hours by shaving the rest off, the me I saw when I looked in the mirror definitely didn’t match my self-image. Five months later, I still don’t identify as that baldie. 😉 My hair is starting to grow back, and I laugh at how I now look like a balding man, with shiny spots still on top but a nice fringe around the back. My eyebrows and eyelashes have thinned, and I frequently have circles under my eyes (especially after surgery), so when I look in the mirror, I think “Wow, hello, cancer patient!”

But that’s not what I feel like when I’m not looking in the mirror. (Okay, there are days…LOL). I feel like…me. The same person who has always traveled through life with confidence and optimism, even when I probably shouldn’t, by rights. Yes, I get frustrated when the image doesn’t reflect that version of myself. I’m ready to look like me again, and I definitely don’t. But it’s easy to forget, as I’m going about my day. It’s easy to ignore.

Then came surgery. Bilateral mastectomy. Months before I even had the surgery, my physical therapist was writing a referral to get me in with a counselor who specializes in body image. I figured that would be smart, even though I didn’t have negative thoughts about it yet. I haven’t yet actually seen any mental health specialists, though, so these first weeks after surgery, it’s just been me and my family thinking it through.

Can I think myself to tears over the changes to my body? Yes. I did so one night. It was important to grapple with all that will never be the same, to realize that I no longer had the breasts that nursed my children. My husband and I had some long talks about what grieving a part of one’s body really is and looks like. And then…I felt like I had permission to just be me again. To be curious about these changes, and to be curious about how they’d continue to evolve as I go through the very lengthy reconstruction process.

David worried that I was just saying the right words, at one point. Words about how this body is not who I am, about how when I was struck with fear or worry in the weeks leading up to surgery, I’d make a concerted effort to pray. He was baffled at “how okay” I was. Was I just in denial? Was I not grieving properly? That would be when I took that night to cry and talk though it all.

In the first week post-surgery, I wasn’t allowed to take off the ace bandage they’d wrapped me in or take off the surgical compression bra, so I hadn’t seen myself. And I’ll admit it–I wasn’t exactly looking forward to that first full look. A few days afterward, my mom asked, “How did you feel when you first saw yourself?” her tone one of worry and love and sympathy.

I kinda laughed. “Well, I don’t exactly like the way it looks…but it’s interesting to see what they did and imagine how it’ll look as I go through the process. It looks funny, but it’s okay.” And I meant it. It’s not hideous. I look at the incisions that will become scars, and I see battle wounds that mean I’m still alive, that I’m reclaiming health.

It’s not the me I feel like, when I look in the mirror. But it rarely is. That’s okay. It’s the me I’ve earned. Just like those stretch marks on my hips tell the story of carrying a child, just like the scar on my ankle tells of rollerskating without socks as a child, just as the curve to my neck tells of too many hours hunched over my keyboard writing books. The bald head says that I’m fighting cancer (and winning!). And this new change just tells part of that ongoing story of claiming health and a future. I can’t hate the thing that will help me achieve that. I can think it looks funny, and I can certainly not love the painful process, but I made the decision with one goal in mind: never going through breast cancer again. I know this doesn’t guarantee it, but it makes it more likely. And so, I celebrate it.

The me I see in the mirror doesn’t match the me I see in mind…and yet, it does. Because the me I see in the mirror is a warrior, one who bears the marks of the battle but is still fighting. Can I pick out all my flaws, all the things I’m eager to see change, all the things I will mitigate with makeup and hats and wigs when I feel like altering that image for a while? Absolutely. But that doesn’t mean I don’t also see what lies beneath.

I am the most beautiful woman in the world to the man who loves me. I am a woman of strength and faith in the eyes of my family and friends. I am a mother who shows her children that we can fight and win whatever battles life throws at us.

I am a daughter of God, precious in His sight.

The me I see in the mirror matches none of my ideals of beauty. But the me I see in the mirror is beautiful. That reflection tells part of my story–and my reaction to it tells another part.

I daresay when you look in the mirror, you don’t see exactly what you wish you looked like either. But your reflection is part of your story. You have earned every curve, every dip, every scar, every freckle, every wrinkle, every line. You are exactly the you that God created in His image, and you are loved. You are beautiful. You are you.

The image that greets us in the mirror is part of us…but we are so much more than our image alone. We are His image. And that makes us all beyond compare.

Royally Inspired Tournament

The First Annual WhiteCrown Princess Moments Contest

Hear ye, hear ye! You’re invited to don your writer’s armor and prove your mettle in a battle to the death…er…publication!

What Is the Royally Inspired Tournament?

In this writing contest, you write a short story based on one of the book cover images linked above–there are nearly 30 to choose from! When you submit your story, start by saying which image it goes with (for instance, “Contemporary 3”). We will choose FOUR winners, which will be published with the image you selected as the cover (we’ll of course add your title to it!).

What are Princess Moments?

Princess Moments are short fiction that give readers that “ahhh” moment that royal fiction is famous for—the one where a royal steps up or accepts the proposal or finds their inner strength or wins the day or realizes their own true worth. Princess Moments are published exclusively on WhiteCrown’s website and are free for readers to enjoy.

How Long Should the Entries Be?

Current Princess Moments range from 500-2000 words. This is a great guideline, though we’re not super-strict about word counts on these. Keep it a “short,” but feel free to use however much space your story needs. (The “official” definition of a short story is 1,000-7,500 words.)

How Many Entries Can Each Writer Submit?

As many as you like! You can submit multiple stories for the same image, or a story for different images! Entries will be anonymized before they’re sent to the judges, so each entry will be judged on its own merits alone.

Is there an entry fee?

Nope! The contest is free to enter!

Are there any restrictions on who can enter?

Nope! You can be published or unpublished, any age. Just keep in mind that WhiteCrown readers are teens and adults, so we’d like to see short stories that target teen or older.

Who Are the Judges?

The Royally Inspired Tournament will be judged by royal experts—WhiteCrown’s existing authors and editors!

What Do Winners Receive?

Each winner will receive a contract for publication on the WhiteCrown website, as well as a special edition WhiteCrown original paperback of their choice with printed edges.

Things to Know About WhiteCrown?

WhiteCrown is a line of royal fiction under the WhiteFire Publishing Group, a Christian publisher. While faith themes don’t need to be overt, especially in short fiction, there should be nothing in your entry that would mark it as incompatible with our publisher, including foul language, explicit sex scenes, or graphically described violence. All stories published by WhiteCrown must feature royalty. To know what kind of stories we most love, you should read our existing short fiction and/or novels.

Feeling royally inspired? Then get writing!

Deadline for submissions is November 15, 2024.

Winners will be announced on December 6, 2024.

Entries should be emailed to princessmoments@whitecrownpublishing.com
using a subject line of “Royally Inspired Tournament Submission”
Again, please include WHICH IMAGE your entry is meant to match,
along with a TITLE for your story!

We can’t wait to see what stories these images inspire!

Thank you all so much for praying for me as I went into surgery last Friday, and for continuing to pray for my recuperation! I appreciate it so much!

So last Friday, October 11, I had my double mastectomy. The “double” part was my choice, made because it decreases my chances of going through breast cancer again by 90%. I liked those numbers! Because of my size and the size of the tumor, a single mastectomy was necessary–a lumpectomy wouldn’t have left me with enough material for reshaping. I also needed to have all the lymph nodes in my right armpit removed, because they were still showing up as abnormal in the last MRI. Having the lymph nodes all removed puts me at a risk of lymphedema, swelling of the arm and hand, so I would definitely appreciate prayers that I can avoid that. I have exercises to do to help prevent it, and will be wearing compression sleeves to help with it as well.

The surgery went really well! Not that I got the update from the surgeon, LOL, but she reported to my family that everything was textbook or better. She was able to use a blue dye that tracks the drainage channels in my arm so that she could avoid them, which should help with that lymphedema concern. We all agree that we just love Dr. Bailey and always feel better about things after talking to her. She came in to see me before surgery and said, “I know you’re not looking forward to this, but look at it this way. After today, we know you’re cancer free. That makes today a great day.” And she is so right about that!

I only stayed one night in the hospital, which was fine by me. 😉 I did have a bit of swelling on my right side the morning after surgery, so they wrapped me up tight in an ace bandage and told me I wasn’t allowed to take it off until my follow-up appointment at the one-week mark. I absolutely understand that…but I’m looking forward to getting a break from it. I feel a bit like a mummy. 😉

As I’m sitting here several days post-surgery, I can report that I’m certainly nowhere near normal–my range of motion is hugely decreased, so there’s a lot I can’t do while incisions heal.  But the pain of the first day has faded into discomfort and aching, which is a big improvement. I’m able to sit at my desk and in fact find that it’s really comfortable to have my arms braced at that height. Convenient, since I just had digital galleys arrive for The Collector of Burned Books. Reading through it doesn’t tax me much but still makes me feel useful, so that’s nice. =)

My sister brought over a TON of food, and my mom and grandmother added to it, so we’re well stocked, for sure! Definitely a blessing, because I can’t even reach the microwave on my own, much less cook anything, LOL. Today I have an appointment with physical therapy, and tomorrow a follow-up with my surgeon at which I will hopefully get the drains removed and be cleared for things like showering. They expect to have pathology reports early next week, so I also have an oncology appointment on Monday to discuss treatment from here out. (UPDATE: Pathology reports came in, and I am CANCER FREE!! No cancer in any tissue or lymph nodes removed! Praise God!)

Again, thank you all so much for your support and encouragement and prayers! I don’t know where I’d be without it, but it means the world to me.

Original post published May 19, 2022

“Peace I leave with you,
my peace I give to you.
Not as the world gives
do I give it to you.
Do not let your hearts be troubled;
be not afraid.

~ John 14:27

What is peace? Jesus promises to leave us with it–not just any peace, but His peace. It’s something we all know we need. Something we crave. Something we spend money searching for and trying to grab hold of. Something we tout.

But do we really understand it? Like, really understand it?

What is peace? Is it the absence of strife? Of conflict? Of war? It is “the state of tranquility or quiet” like the dictionary says? Or “a state of security within a community”? Is it just “freedom from disquieting thoughts” or “harmony in personal relations”?

Maybe peace is, in a way, all of those things. But that is peace as the world knows it–as the world gives it.

The peace of Christ is something different. It’s something more…but also something more fundamental. Whole books can be and have been written on the subject, and it’s one I’ve really wanted to lean into from the biblical perspective. I’ve read about it. I’ve talked about it. I’ve studied it. Not enough, but enough to get started thinking it through in words here (no doubt I’ll have more on the subject later!).

A few weeks ago, my husband was speaking with a board of directors. He’d been nominated to be the new president of this board for a non-profit, and one of the others asked him, “Do you feel peace about this?”

Now, my husband is a man of deep and thoughtful faith, but he’s also a man who has taken great pains to separate his faith from mere feeling or emotion. So this phrase–do you feel peace–has long grated on him. He will say that never once in his life did he “feel peace” about a decision before it was made–though he frequently feels it after it is made. To some, this seems like a lack of faith.

But it isn’t. It is, in fact, a very true and primal kind of faith: the kind that says, “I will trust you, Lord. I will trust who you made me to be. I will trust that when I’m chasing after You, even if I make a mistake, you will redeem it. I trust that even if my fallibility, I can’t possibly undo your will…even if I’m not 100% sure what that is.”

Because how often are we really 100% sure? More, how often are we supposed to be? A couple years ago a friend sent me a book called Searching for and Maintaining Peace. She sent it “just because,” but it arrived while we were in the hospital with my son, when he was diagnosed with Type 1 Diabetes. It took me a while to get around to reading it, but it became one of those books where I had to underline and highlight insights all over the place.

One of the things the author pointed out which really resonated with me was that true faith, true peace isn’t about always hearing God perfectly. It’s about knowing that, even when we don’t, He is still there at work. That part of this journey of faith is training ourselves in His ways enough that, even when He’s silent, we can still act. We can still choose good things. Just like as kids grow up they have to learn to make decisions without parental input, so do Christians have to learn to live, making day-to-day decisions whether they’re absolutely certain about the “rightness” or not. God is there, He’s watching, He’s comforting…but He’s also saying, “Go ahead, beloved. Step out. I’m right here if you falter.”

That is true peace. Not a lack of conflict. Not security from your community. Not harmony with others. True peace, the peace given by Christ, is trust. True peace, the kind our Lord and Savior gives us, is knowing that we cannot possibly outpace His love. We cannot fall so far that He isn’t there to catch us. We cannot undo His will. True peace is knowing that even when circumstances are terrible and our world is crumbling around us, nothing can take away the most precious thing in the world: our salvation. True peace is knowing that the only identity we really need is Child of God.

When we can really claim that, when our prayers and contemplation are not about what we need or want or hope to do, but in who we are in Christ, then we’ll also be able to claim exactly what Jesus instructs. Our hearts will not be troubled. We will not be afraid.

Are you troubled? Afraid? We’ve all been there, or are there right now, or will be in the future. But the more we focus on the truth that we’re not defined by our jobs or our place of residence, by our marriages or our children or our families, by what we’ve accomplished or where we’ve failed, the more we’ll find that fearless peace.

Because we are God’s. And He is our master. And Christ has left us with something the world does not give and the world cannot take away. He has given us a gift of peace that stills our hearts and girds our minds with courage.

Be not afraid. Be not troubled. You belong to the Lord.