table. He greeted my father-in-law, who is in partnership with us. When the man mentioned something about inspection results, I froze. But before he could finish his comment, my father-in-law interrupted. “Actually,” he said, “I handed that job over to my son.”
The inspector took a few steps down the table and greeted my husband. When he resumed his conversation about the inspection, Daniel seemed relieved to hand the possible wrath down to the next person. He said, “Well, that would be my wife’s department.”
The inspector looked at me. I held my breath, glad I was sitting down.
He extended his arm to shake hands with me, and then he said, “Congratulations, Mrs. Flaud. Not only did you pass inspection, but you got an outstanding score of 99 percent!”
I didn’t want to gloat. I prayed not to, and yet … I’m human.
From Cindy
The journey from stay-at-home mom to author was a quiet one. While writing my first novel, I worked long hours at the same place where I’d nursed my babies, cuddled them as toddlers, and taught two of them from kindergarten to high school—at home. My circle of family and friends was small, and few people outside of that circle even knew I wrote.
My debut novel sold out within two weeks of being published, and the popularity of the series continued to grow until my third book hit the
New York Times
bestseller list. To celebrate, my family and I went out to eat at a really nice restaurant. The news was fun, but I was glad that the impact seemed nominal.
When I woke the next day, I began to feel a shift. I’d gone to bed the same woman and woke with … tangible respect. It felt truly odd. I hadn’t changed, but e-mails and phone messages were waiting. People, many of whom had known me for years, suddenly wanted me to come speak at their book clubs, women’s functions, libraries, and bookstores. I was struck by the oddity of it. Did I know a lot more today than yesterday? Was I more qualified today?
I had no more value after I became an author than when I was in my home tending to runny noses, little bumps and bruises, and laboring over hard-fought-for school lessons my children would never remember learning (even though the skill became a part of them). Our value can’t be wrapped inside what others think or we think, because that is too dependent on this ever-shifting world. The value God places on us makes us more than we think we are, even on our hardest days, weeks, or years.
H OPE
Therefore being justified by faith, we have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ: By whom also we have access by faith into this grace wherein we stand, and rejoice in hope of the glory of God.
—R OMANS 5:1–2
From Cindy
When I came to Christ in my early twenties, the one characteristic of who He is that changed everything about my life was
hope
. It seemed to create its own sense of thankfulness and well-being.
At first, thinking on hopeful things didn’t come naturally for me. A hopeful thought would skitter through my mind so fast I couldn’t catch it. It seemed to take about five minutes to recall the hopeful thought, but I chased it down. And every time it slipped away, I chased it down again.
A hopeful thought would come to me, and negative ones would stomp all over it, trying to assure me that gloomy thinking was realistic and hope was a liar. I had to purposefully latch on to hope. I had to protect hope, standing firm against pessimism over and over again—for days, months, and years.
God’s love, in whatever form it shows itself, wants to give us hope.
Whenever welcomed and protected, hope joins the rhythm of our daily life, and it whispers encouragement morning, noon, and night—through every season.
I know from my own walk that if we’ll hang on to hope, it will growstronger than despair. Hope in who He is. Hope in who we can be. Hope for our loved ones’ futures.
Hope sees what cannot be seen with human eyes. It feels what we cannot touch with our
The inspector took a few steps down the table and greeted my husband. When he resumed his conversation about the inspection, Daniel seemed relieved to hand the possible wrath down to the next person. He said, “Well, that would be my wife’s department.”
The inspector looked at me. I held my breath, glad I was sitting down.
He extended his arm to shake hands with me, and then he said, “Congratulations, Mrs. Flaud. Not only did you pass inspection, but you got an outstanding score of 99 percent!”
I didn’t want to gloat. I prayed not to, and yet … I’m human.
From Cindy
The journey from stay-at-home mom to author was a quiet one. While writing my first novel, I worked long hours at the same place where I’d nursed my babies, cuddled them as toddlers, and taught two of them from kindergarten to high school—at home. My circle of family and friends was small, and few people outside of that circle even knew I wrote.
My debut novel sold out within two weeks of being published, and the popularity of the series continued to grow until my third book hit the
New York Times
bestseller list. To celebrate, my family and I went out to eat at a really nice restaurant. The news was fun, but I was glad that the impact seemed nominal.
When I woke the next day, I began to feel a shift. I’d gone to bed the same woman and woke with … tangible respect. It felt truly odd. I hadn’t changed, but e-mails and phone messages were waiting. People, many of whom had known me for years, suddenly wanted me to come speak at their book clubs, women’s functions, libraries, and bookstores. I was struck by the oddity of it. Did I know a lot more today than yesterday? Was I more qualified today?
I had no more value after I became an author than when I was in my home tending to runny noses, little bumps and bruises, and laboring over hard-fought-for school lessons my children would never remember learning (even though the skill became a part of them). Our value can’t be wrapped inside what others think or we think, because that is too dependent on this ever-shifting world. The value God places on us makes us more than we think we are, even on our hardest days, weeks, or years.
H OPE
Therefore being justified by faith, we have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ: By whom also we have access by faith into this grace wherein we stand, and rejoice in hope of the glory of God.
—R OMANS 5:1–2
From Cindy
When I came to Christ in my early twenties, the one characteristic of who He is that changed everything about my life was
hope
. It seemed to create its own sense of thankfulness and well-being.
At first, thinking on hopeful things didn’t come naturally for me. A hopeful thought would skitter through my mind so fast I couldn’t catch it. It seemed to take about five minutes to recall the hopeful thought, but I chased it down. And every time it slipped away, I chased it down again.
A hopeful thought would come to me, and negative ones would stomp all over it, trying to assure me that gloomy thinking was realistic and hope was a liar. I had to purposefully latch on to hope. I had to protect hope, standing firm against pessimism over and over again—for days, months, and years.
God’s love, in whatever form it shows itself, wants to give us hope.
Whenever welcomed and protected, hope joins the rhythm of our daily life, and it whispers encouragement morning, noon, and night—through every season.
I know from my own walk that if we’ll hang on to hope, it will growstronger than despair. Hope in who He is. Hope in who we can be. Hope for our loved ones’ futures.
Hope sees what cannot be seen with human eyes. It feels what we cannot touch with our
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