Glowing Author #9
Cynthia Ruchti, our featured author for today, is a communicator of note on many levels. She writes and produces a daily radio broadcast, The Heartbeat of the Home. She also serves as president of American Christian Fiction Writers (acfw.com). Oh yes… and her debut novel, They Almost Always Come Home, is hot off the press. Yet she found the time to stop by and share a personal article with us today.
He and his buddies thought the campfire was out. Doused. Dead. But as they resumed their hike, a spark—a single spark—took a hike of its own, jumping the makeshift fire ring like a hound dog would slip out of a too-loose collar in search of adventure.
The spark danced across pine needles desiccated from the lack of rain. They responded the only way they knew how. They flamed.
The fire spread faster than word of the true nature of the mayor’s wife’s surgery once the beauty parlor got wind of it.
A week later, a sooty, exhausted fire crew retreated from the blackened forest of charred, dead poles that once were trees with branches.
Devastating as was the scene, a woman in a cabin just beyond the black circle made a mental note. “A year or two from now, the wild blueberries will be thick as strangers at the church potluck.”
A “burn” like that has an aftereffect of rebirth for plants like blueberries that thrive in acidic soil.
Is that how we respond to devastation? To rejection? To disappointment? It may blacken our landscape, but do we reserve a thread of hope, of excitement even for the kinds of things that thrive in “acidic” soil?
I once had a book rejected (one incident of many times) that I thought had found a home in the heart of a particular editor at a publishing house. The rejection stung, burned. A year later, the fiction division of that publisher had closed. My book would have been orphaned.
I’m learning to assume the Lord has something great, beautiful, and good in mind when flames lick across my agenda, when disappointment scorches the ground at my feet.
Now I realize that the novel itself is built on the hope—a Hope-that-glows-in-the-dark—that readers will take Libby Holden’s journey with her, reach down to brush away the ashes at their own feet, and find something stunning and full of life.
Marriage doesn’t look like you thought it would? Grief isn’t taking an expected path? Disappointment drapes its suffocating coat of ash over everything once vital in life? Is it survivable?
Watch for the wild blueberries tucked into Libby’s story…and your own.
Kay, thank you for the opportunity to invite your readers to consider what might be hiding between the covers of They Almost Always Come Home.
You can connect with Cynthia through her website—www.cynthiaruchti.com—or through www.hopethatglowsinthedark.com
You can also find her on Twitter, Facebook, and on her new Facebook Reader Fan Page
“Watch for the wild blueberries tucked into your story.”