[null, null, null, {"document_url": "http://ruths-real-life.blogspot.com/2013/", "unformatted_src": "http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-nVlRiLA33HQ/UpNWTOrA1dI/AAAAAAAAAWw/-JM6ErZxyJY/s320/c0c60d21bb05a28c.jpg", "src": "http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-nVlRiLA33HQ/UpNWTOrA1dI/AAAAAAAAAWw/-JM6ErZxyJY/s320/c0c60d21bb05a28c.jpg", "formatted_filename": "c c d bb a c", "rendered_width": 320, "rendered_height": 234}, null, null, {"document_url": "http://ruths-real-life.blogspot.com/2013/", "unformatted_src": "http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-5QWhKXxaxGo/Uot4YxXzjnI/AAAAAAAAAV8/s_hjdyLXKLM/s320/Blue+Ridge+4+altered.jpg", "src": "http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-5QWhKXxaxGo/Uot4YxXzjnI/AAAAAAAAAV8/s_hjdyLXKLM/s320/Blue+Ridge+4+altered.jpg", "formatted_filename": "Blue Ridge   altered", "rendered_width": 320, "rendered_height": 240}, null, null, {"document_url": "http://ruths-real-life.blogspot.com/2013/", "unformatted_src": "http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-2rHzeWzn-gU/UpywJrAxrQI/AAAAAAAAAXU/yDvtGI3652c/s320/DSCN0729.JPG", "src": "http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-2rHzeWzn-gU/UpywJrAxrQI/AAAAAAAAAXU/yDvtGI3652c/s320/DSCN0729.JPG", "formatted_filename": "DSCN", "rendered_width": 320, "rendered_height": 240}, null, null, null, null, null, {"document_url": "http://ruths-real-life.blogspot.com/2013/", "unformatted_src": "http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-yT-RMC7dzOA/Uou1E2Uk_cI/AAAAAAAAAWM/HkkIY4miJXg/s200/DSCN0723.JPG", "src": "http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-yT-RMC7dzOA/Uou1E2Uk_cI/AAAAAAAAAWM/HkkIY4miJXg/s200/DSCN0723.JPG", "formatted_filename": "DSCN", "rendered_width": 200, "rendered_height": 150}, null, null, {"document_url": "http://ruths-real-life.blogspot.com/2013/", "unformatted_src": "http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_cESuxv-WNX8/TA3PbPpKjHI/AAAAAAAAEFE/e9Dq6nSnpCA/s200/FIRSTWildCardTours2.jpg", "src": "http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_cESuxv-WNX8/TA3PbPpKjHI/AAAAAAAAEFE/e9Dq6nSnpCA/s200/FIRSTWildCardTours2.jpg", "formatted_filename": "FIRSTWildCardTours"}, null, {"document_url": "http://ruths-real-life.blogspot.com/2013/", "unformatted_src": "http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-YkrxCl4hyyA/UmWKpKLKyFI/AAAAAAAAKow/0lUFeOnit6Q/s200/HiResJJenkins+145b.jpg", "src": "http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-YkrxCl4hyyA/UmWKpKLKyFI/AAAAAAAAKow/0lUFeOnit6Q/s200/HiResJJenkins+145b.jpg", "formatted_filename": "HiResJJenkins  b", "rendered_width": 133, "rendered_height": 200}, null, {"document_url": "http://ruths-real-life.blogspot.com/2013/", "unformatted_src": "http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-8IpxK89fvow/UmWKSOr9iFI/AAAAAAAAKoo/VguK6TL9Vjk/s200/9781617950063.jpg", "src": "http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-8IpxK89fvow/UmWKSOr9iFI/AAAAAAAAKoo/VguK6TL9Vjk/s200/9781617950063.jpg", "rendered_width": 135, "rendered_height": 200}, null, null, null, null, {"document_url": "http://ruths-real-life.blogspot.com/2013/", "unformatted_src": "http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-k10xgNdmnTM/Uk1xienpv-I/AAAAAAAAATo/ZPL-bzksnJw/s320/stress-gray-hair-1.jpg", "src": "http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-k10xgNdmnTM/Uk1xienpv-I/AAAAAAAAATo/ZPL-bzksnJw/s320/stress-gray-hair-1.jpg", "formatted_filename": "stress gray hair", "rendered_width": 320, "rendered_height": 240}, null, null, null, {"document_url": "http://ruths-real-life.blogspot.com/2013/", "unformatted_src": "http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-ceG6I8NhQj8/Ui4PYrjGGLI/AAAAAAAAASc/UsJuoriYVB8/s320/MP900431663.JPG", "src": "http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-ceG6I8NhQj8/Ui4PYrjGGLI/AAAAAAAAASc/UsJuoriYVB8/s320/MP900431663.JPG", "formatted_filename": "MP", "rendered_width": 212, "rendered_height": 320}, null, null, null, {"document_url": "http://ruths-real-life.blogspot.com/2013/", "unformatted_src": "http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-twcbCzTxPyg/Ui84WhvKjpI/AAAAAAAAASo/9jdrDb1VI9E/s320/575372_4701476105397_1044030375_n.jpg", "src": "http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-twcbCzTxPyg/Ui84WhvKjpI/AAAAAAAAASo/9jdrDb1VI9E/s320/575372_4701476105397_1044030375_n.jpg", "rendered_width": 320, "rendered_height": 213}, null, null, null, null, null, null, null, null, null, null, null, null, null, null, null, null, null, null]
Today's Scripture

Provided by Christ Notes Bible Search 
Tweerpie and the Green M & M’s 
Thursday, December 5, 2013 Posted by Ruth O'Neil at 1:00 AM No comments: 

A Basket of Books Posted by Ruth O'Neil at 12:00 AM No comments: 

A Ruby Christmas 

I hope you enjoy!

Posted by Ruth O'Neil at 9:00 AM No comments: 

Ruth's Wayside The bathroom may not be a topic may people choose to write about, But…not everyone has my bathroom.

There was a game going around on Facebook where someone gave you a number and you were supposed to write down that many things that people don’t know about you. I’m a fairly open book and don’t have any deep dark secrets. I couldn’t think of ONE thing that people didn’t already know about me let alone nine. So, I turned the game around and had people tell me things that maybe not everyone knew about me. They came up with a couple of good ones. Nothing overly revealing. Except for…”You have a public bathroom in your house.”
Yup, apparently my bathroom is the place to see. Believe it or not, people stop by to my house just to use my bathroom. Is my bathroom uber fancy? No. Is it spotless? Most definitely not. Why do people stop just to use my bathroom?
When you gotta go, you gotta go…I guess.
But then there was the friend who stopped so she could take a shower. It was the middle of the day and she was out shopping around and felt the need for a shower because she felt hot. I kid you not.
My sister-in-law thought this was so funny that she made me a plaque. "Ruth's Wayside." My daughter said I couldn't put it on the front door to the house people would probably take it literally. So on the bathroom door it hangs.
Don’t laugh. You people know exactly who you are. I could name names but I won’t. I will spare all of you the embarrassment.
You just can't make this stuff up!
Posted by Ruth O'Neil at 2:00 PM No comments: 
Wednesday, October 23, 2013

I, Saul 

Today's Wild Card author is:

Jerry B. Jenkins

and the book:

Worthy Publishing (August 27, 2013) 

Visit the author's website. 

List Price: $24.99
Hardcover: 400 pages
Publisher: Worthy Publishing (August 27, 2013)
ISBN-10: 1617950068
ISBN-13: 978-1617950063


Tor n

T E x AS


“call now. desper8.”
The text appeared on Dr. Augie Knox’s phone at 8:55 a.m., seconds before he was to turn it off—protocol for profs entering a classroom at Arlington Theological Seminary.
Augie could have fired off a “give me a minute,” but the message was not signed and the sending number matched nothing in his contacts. The prefix 011-39-06 meant Rome. He’d traveled extensively in his thirty-eight years and enjoyed many visits to the Eternal City, but such a text could easily portend one of those I’ve-been-mugged-and-need- money scams. Whatever this was could wait until he got the Systematic Theology final exam started and could step into the hall with his phone.
Augie had long been fascinated by his students’ nervous chatter before

final exams. One announced, “I looked you up in Who’s Who, Doc, and I
know your full name.”
“Congratulations for discovering something you could have found in your student handbook four years ago.”
“No! That just says Dr. Augustine A. Knox! I found out what the A
stands for.”
“Good for you. Now, a few instructions . . .”
“Aquinas! Augustine Aquinas Knox! Man, what other career choice did you have?”
“Thank you for revealing the thorn in my flesh. If you must know, that moniker was my father’s idea.” Augie mimicked his dad’s monotone basso. “‘Names are important.They can determine a life’s course.’”
Many students chuckled, having sat under the elder Dr. Knox before he fell ill the year before.
“It also says you were adopted. Sorry, but it’s published.” “No secret,” Augie said.
Another hand shot up.“Was that a hint about the exam? Will we be speculating on Paul’s thorn in the flesh?”
“He’s only mentioned that mystery every class,” another said.
Augie held up a hand. “I trust you’re all prepared for any eventual-

“So, what’s your dad’s name?”
“Ed!” someone called out. “Everybody knows that.” “Look it up,” Augie said. “You may find it revealing.”
With blue books distributed, Augie slipped out and turned on his
phone.The plea from Rome had already dropped to third on his message list. At the top was a voice mail from Dr. Moore, who had been filling in as acting department chair since Augie’s father had been hospitalized with a stroke.

Augie would have checked that one first, but next was a voice mail from Sofia Trikoupis, his heart. It was eight hours later in Athens, after five in the afternoon. “Call me at the end of your day,” her message said. “I’ll wait up.” It would be midnight her time by then, but she apparently needed his undivided attention. That would bug him all day. How he longed for them to be together.
His phone vibrated. Rome again. “urgent. call now, pls!” Augie pressed his lips together, thumbing in, “who’s this?” “trust me. begging.”
“not w/out knowing who u r.”
Augie waited more than a minute for a response, then snorted. As I
figured. But as he headed back into the classroom, his phone buzzed again. “zionist.”
Augie stopped, heat rising in his neck. He quickly tapped in, “90 minutes OK?”
“now! critical.”
Few people had been more important in Augie’s life than Roger Michaels, the diminutive fifty-year-old South African with a James Earl Jones voice and a gray beard that seemed to double the size of his pale, gnomish face. Augie would never lead a tour of an ancient city without Roger as the guide.
“2 mins,” Augie texted.
He rushed to his father’s old office, which still bore the senior Dr. Knox’s nameplate on the door. Augie knocked and pushed it open.“Les, I need a favor.”
Dr. Moore took his time looking up from his work. “Number one, Dr. Knox, I did not invite you in.”
“Sorry, but—”
“Number two, I have asked that you refer to me as Dr. Moore.”

“My bad again, but listen—”
“And number three,” the acting chair said, making a show of study- ing his watch, “we both know that at this very moment you are to be conducting—”
“Dr. Moore, I have an emergency call to make and I need you to stand in for me for a few minutes.”
Moore sighed and rose, reaching for his suit coat.“I know what that’s about.Take all the time you need.”
Augie followed him down the hall. “You do?” “You didn’t get my message?”
“Oh, no, sorry. I saw one was there, but I—”
“But you assumed other messages were more important. I said we needed to chat after your first exam.”
“Well, sure, I’ll be here.”
“Part of what we need to discuss is your father. Is that what your call is about?”
“What about my father?” “We’ll talk at ten.”
“But is he—”
“There have been developments, Dr. Knox. But he is still with us.” As Dr. Moore headed for the classroom, Augie ducked into a stair-
well, away from the windows and the relentless sun forecasters were saying would push the temperature at least twenty degrees above normal by 2:00 p.m., threatening the 107° record for the month.
Augie wasn’t getting enough signal strength to complete his call, so he hurried back out to the corridor. Cell coverage was still weak, so he stepped outside. It had to be near 90° already. Scalp burning, he listened as the number rang and rang.
Augie moved back inside for a minute, braced by the air condition-

ing, then ventured out to try again. He waited two minutes, tried once more, and felt he had to get back to class.
On a third attempt, as he neared the entrance, it was clear someone had picked up a receiver and hung up. Augie dialed twice more as he walked back to take over for Dr. Moore. Just before he reached the class- room, his phone came alive again with a text.
“sorry. later. trash ur phone. serious.”
Augie couldn’t make it compute. Had his phone been traced? Tapped? If he got a new one, how would Roger know how to reach him?
Dr. Moore stood just inside the classroom door and emerged imme- diately when he saw Augie. “Talk to your mother?” he said.
“No, should I?”
Moore sighed and opened his palms. “You interrupt my work and don’t check on your father?”
Augie reached for his cell again, but hesitated. If he used it, would he be exposing his mother’s phone too?
“Call her after we’ve talked, Dr. Knox. Now I really must get back to my own responsibilities.”
It was all Augie could do to sit still till the end of class. Before get- ting back to Dr. Moore, he dropped off the stack of blue books in his own office and used the landline to call his contact at Dallas Theolog- ical Seminary, just up the road. Arlington Sem sat equidistant between DTS to the east and the massive Southwestern Baptist Seminary to the west. Arlington was like the stepchild no one ever talked about, a single building for a couple of hundred students, struggling to stay alive in the shadows of those two renowned institutions.When Augie needed some- thing fast, he was more likely to get it from the competition. Such as a new phone.
Like his father before him, Augie was the travel department at

Arlington. No auxiliary staff handled logistics as they did at DTS and Southwestern. The head techie at Dallas was Biff Dyer, a string bean of a man a few years older than Augie with an Adam’s apple that could apply for statehood. He could always be counted on to program Augie’s phone, depending on what country he was traveling to.
“Calling from your office phone, I see,” Biff said. “What happened to the cell I got you?”
“It’s been compromised.”
Biff chuckled. “Like you’d know.What makes you think so?” “I need a new one.Trust me.”
“I’ll just switch out the chip.You’re not gonna find a better phone. How soon you need it?”
“Fast as possible.”
“Why doesn’t that surprise me? I’m not deliverin’ it. Can you come by during normal hours?”
There was a knock at Augie’s door and he wrenched around to see
Les Moore’s scowl. “Gotta go, Biff.”
“Sorry, Les. On my way right now. Or do you want to just meet here?” “Here would not be any more appropriate than your insisting on our being on a first-name basis,” Dr. Moore said, scanning the tiny chamber in which the guest chair was folded in a corner and brought out only
when necessary.
“C’mon, Les. You were only a couple years ahead of me. We hung out, didn’t we?”
“Hardly. You spent most of your free time in the gym with the—
what?—six other jocks who happened to enroll here.”
It was true. And everyone knew the library had been where to find
Les Moore.
Augie looked at his watch. Another final at 11. He followed his interim

boss back to his father’s old office. It wasn’t that much bigger than his, but at least the guest chair didn’t block the door.
“Would you start with my dad?” Augie said as he sat.
“I would have thought you’d have already checked in with your mother, but all right. She called this morning, knowing you were in class. Your father has slipped into a coma.”
Augie nodded slowly. “She okay?”
“Your mother? Sure. It’s not like he’s passed. She just thought you might want to visit this afternoon.”
“Appreciate it.”
“Now then, Dr. Knox, I have some paperwork here that I’m going to need you to sign. Frankly, it’s not pleasant, but we’re all expected to be team players and I’m going to assume you’ll accede to the adminis- tration’s wishes.”
“What’s up?”
“You’re scheduled to teach summer-school Homiletics beginning four days after commencement.”
“A week from today, right.”
“And we have contracted with you for this stipend, correct?”
Why Les felt it necessary to pencil the figure on the back of a business card and dramatically slide it across the desk, Augie could not fathom.
“Yep, that’s the fortune that’s going to let me retire by forty.”
“Um-hm. Humorous. It is my sad duty to ask you to agree to under- take the class for two-thirds that amount.”
“You’re serious.” “Always.”
That was for sure.
“Les—Dr. Moore, you know we do these classes pretty much as gifts to the sem. Now they seriously want us to do them for less?”

“This is entirely up to you.” “I can refuse?”
“We’re not going to force you to teach a class when we have to renege on our agreement.”
“Good, because I just don’t think I can do it for that.”
“I’ll report your decision. We’ll be forced to prevail upon a local adjunct instruct—”
“Like that youth pastor at Arlington Bible—” “He’s a graduate, Dr. Knox.”
“I know! I taught him. And he’s a great kid, but he didn’t do all that well in Homiletics, and there’s a reason they let him preach only a couple of times a year over there.”
“He’ll be happy to do it for this figure—probably even for less.” “And the students be hanged.”
Les cocked his head. “Naturally, we would prefer you . . .”
Augie reached for his pen and signaled with his fingers for the doc- ument.
“I’m glad I can count on you, Dr. Knox. Now, while we’re on the subject, I’m afraid there’s more.You were due for a four percent increase beginning with the fall trimester.”
“Let me guess, that’s not going to happen either.” “It’s worse.”
“What, now it’s a four percent decrease?” “I wish.”
“Oh, no.”
“Dr. Knox, we have seen an alarming downturn in admissions, and the administration is predicting a fall enrollment that puts us at less than breakeven, even with massive budget cuts.We’re all being asked to accept twenty percent reductions in pay.”

Augie slumped. “I was hoping to get married this fall, Les. I can barely afford the payments on my little house as it is.”
“This is across the board, Dr. Knox. The president, the deans, the chairs, all of us. Some departments are actually losing personnel. Mainte- nance will be cut in half, and we’ll all be expected to help out.”
Arlington had been staggering along on a shoestring for decades, but this was dire. “Tell me the truth, Dr. Moore. Is this the beginning of the end? Should I entertain the offers I’ve gotten from Dallas over the years?” “Oh, no! The trustees wish us to weather this storm, redouble our efforts to market our distinctives, and then more than make up for the pay cuts as soon as we’re able. Besides, the way your father bad-mouthed Dallas and Southwestern his whole career, you wouldn’t dream of insult-
ing him by going to either, would you?”
“He bad-mouthed everything and everybody, Les.You know that.” “Not a pleasant man. No offense.”
Augie shrugged. “You worked for him. I lived with him.”
“Do you know, I have heard not one word from your father since the day I was asked to temporarily assume his role? No counsel, no guidelines, no encouragement, nothing. I assumed he was angry that you had not been appointed—”
That made Augie laugh.“He still sees me as a high school kid! Forget all my degrees. Anyway, I wouldn’t want his job, or yours. It’s not me.”
“How well I know. I mean, I’m just saying, you’re not the typical prof, let alone department chair.”
“I’m not arguing.”
Augie couldn’t win. Despite having been at the top of his classes in college and seminary, his having been a high school jock and continu- ing to shoot hoops, play touch football, and follow pro sports made him an outsider among real academics.Too many times he had been asked if

he was merely a seminary prof because that was what his father wanted for him.
Dr. Moore slid the new employment agreement across the desk. “Sorry, Les, but this one I’m going to have to think and pray about.” The interim chair seemed to freeze. “Don’t take too long. If they
aren’t sure they can count on you for the fall, they’ll want to consider the many out-of-work professors who would be thrilled, in the current econ- omy, to accept.”
“Yeah, that would help. Stock the faculty with young assistant pas- tors.”
“May I hear from you by the end of the day?”
“Probably not, but you’ll be the first to know what I decide.”
Back in his own office, Augie popped the chip out of his cell phone and put it in a separate pocket. He called his mother from his desk phone to assure her he would see her at the hospital late in the afternoon, then called Biff to tell him he would try to stop by DTS on his way.
“What’s the big emergency?” Biff said.
“Roger Michaels has himself in some kind of trouble.” “Tell me when you get here.”
During his 11:00 a.m. final Augie was summoned to the administra- tive offices for an emergency call. On the way he stopped by to see if Les would stand in for him again, but his office was dark.The final would just have to be unsupervised for a few minutes.
“Do you know who’s calling?” he said to the girl who had fetched him. If it was his mother . . .
“Someone from Greece.”
He finally reached the phone and discovered it was Sofia. “Thought you wanted me to call later, babe.You all right?”
“Roger is frantic to reach you.”

“I know. He—”
“He gave me a new number and needs you to call right now, but not from your cell.” She read it to him.
“Any idea what’s going on, Sof ?” Augie said as he scribbled. “This is not like him.”
“No idea, but, Augie, he sounded petrified.” “That doesn’t sound like him either.”
“You can tell me what it’s about later, but you’d better call him right away.”
Augie rushed to his office and dialed the number in Rome. It rang six times before Roger picked up. “Augie?”
“Yes! What’s—”
“Listen carefully. I’ve got just seconds. I need you in Rome as soon as you can get here.”
“Rog, what’s happening? This is the absolute worst time for me to—” “Give Sofia your new cell number and text me your ETA. I’ll give
you a new number where you can call me from Fiumicino as soon as you get in.”
“I don’t know when I could get there, Rog. I’ve got—” “Augie! You know I wouldn’t ask if it weren’t life or death.”

In my opinion...

This book takes place in modern day US and Italy as well as First Century Rome. The story goes back and forth with intertwining plots, looking for one of the greatest finds in antiquities ever – the personal memoirs of Saul/Paul. This book kept me reading. In fact I stayed up until 2am one night/morning finishing it only to be left hanging. I thought all the loose ends were being tied up, but the last sentence of the book untied that!

I am definitely looking forward to the next book, I, Paul. 

The Hair Mavens

I am pleased to have Terri Gillespie, author of She Does Good Hair here with me today. I have read her book that recently came out on Kindle and I loved it. Here are a few questions to help you get to know her a little bit and find out more about her book. Posted by Ruth O'Neil at 9:23 AM 2 comments: 

The Note That Made the Difference

People often ask me why I write. “Why do you do what you do?” Sometimes it’s thankless. Sometimes the pay stinks. Many times people don’t even know the extent of my work. This following is a story that really happened and I think it explains why it is I continue doing what I do.

“Another gray hair!” I promptly yanked it out and flushed it.

“Are you going to quit now?” My husband had heard my comment.

I couldn’t quit. I had made a commitment and I wasn’t one to bow out after giving my word. I was putting on a play with the children at our church. I had done it a couple of times before and thoroughly enjoyed it. This time, however, I had the most unruly bunch of kids with whom I had ever worked. I spent more of my time trying to establish order in the classroom and sending troublemakers to sit with parents in the sanctuary. I didn’t know if these little actors would be ready to give their performance in one week.

After the dress rehearsal, I decided the kids were going to embarrass themselves and me. I figured it might be a good idea to have one last rehearsal the afternoon before the evening disaster would occur. During that rehearsal, my husband was fixing the set. He was shocked at how these kids could behave so badly.

Then the tape that had our music on it was eaten by the electronics. Fortunately, the lady who had recorded the music lived next door to the church. I sent someone to go get her. When she arrived she said, “There’s no problem. When I recorded the music onto the tape, I saved it in the piano, too. It’s still all there.” Thank goodness for computerized instruments!

During the rehearsal, she sat between the two boys who had given me the most trouble. After that, things went a little smoother. I focused my attention to those who were running their lines. During our break between the rehearsal and the performance my piano lady told me, “I have a new respect for what you do. I’m surprised you don’t have gray hair by now.” If she only knew!

My husband then came to me and told me, “I don’t want you to do this anymore.” At that moment I agreed.

The play went off, but not without a hitch. My main character forgot a lot of his lines. Other than that, I guess it wasn’t too bad. I did plan on keeping my word to my husband. The plays had become a chore, not a joy.

However, a couple weeks later, I received a letter in the mail from one of the girls that had been in the play. Her note read,

“Dear Mrs. O’Neil,

This is Ravin. I am working on a project for church and it says that I need to thank the person who told me about Christ. It was you when you did the play. I learned a lot about Noah and the Bible. Thank you for telling me so I can have eternal life.

Love, Ravin

P.S. I’m getting baptized soon!”

That note reaffirmed why I do what I do. God knew I needed some encouragement and He sent it at the right time.

I went back on my word to my husband and did another play the following year. I knew I needed to keep on keeping on in the work of the Lord. He will give you the strength you need to get through each and every day of your ministry.

Kids are not exclusive to sending me notes. There have been several times I received a card in the mail, an email, and even several phone calls from complete strangers who have read my writing and were touched in one way or another by it. This encouragement comes always when I am in most need of it, reminding me that is why I do what I do.
Posted by Ruth O'Neil at 9:31 AM No comments: 

Flashback Friday Contest

Trouble Making Contest

Today's Flashback Friday is a little different. You often hear about my life, now I want to hear about YOU! My next book is going to be about cousins who are best friends and cause a little trouble together from time to time. This is where you come in. I want to hear all about trouble you have gotten (or still get) into with your best friend. The age when you got in trouble doesn't matter. You may have been a small child or an adult.

For the contest you will need to submit your trouble-causing story (please, keep it clean and preferably funny - at least it's funny now!). If it is short you can submit it in the comments. If it is a longer story you may send it to me by email at email@example.com.

I will write a blog post with some of the best stories and announce the winner.

Now you may be wondering what the winner gets. The winning story will be included (maybe with minor changes) to my new book. The winner will also receive a free digital copy of the book when it is completed. Keep in mind - there may be more than one winner depending on the good stories I get. I know whatever you can send me will be better than any stories I can make up!

Feel free to share this with your friends using the convenient buttons below. You will have until the end of the year to submit your stories. You may submit as many as you like, there is no limit. Over the next few months I may share a few of the times where I got in trouble with a best friend.

I am looking forward to seeing what kind of trouble you and your best friend have caused! 

15 Day Blogger Challenge - Day 12

How Do You Fight Blogger Fatigue? I’m not sure I’ve had issues with blogger fatigue. In fact, it’s usually the opposite for me. I have plenty of ides, but implementing those ideas consistently is the issue. Fatigue implies burnout. One can hardly get burned out when there is a lack of regularity.

As with any writing, most fatigue comes from a lack of ideas. How can anyone run out of ideas when there is so much going on in the world around us? Fatigue in writing can be solved by a change of scenery, a change of people to hang around with, or a change of whatever tires you out.  I usually have a running list of ideas and notebooks filled with scenes and characters for new books.

No, I don’t recall ever having blogger or any other type of writing fatigue.

Do you?

Posted by Ruth O'Neil at 1:00 AM 1 comment: 

15 Day Blogger Challenge - Day 11

Show off Your Best 5 Blog Posts
This one is just funny and an example of a typical day in our household.
April 30, 2013 - http://ruths-real-life.blogspot.com/2013/04/putting-fun-back-in-writing.html
I like this one because it shows how much readers have enjoyed my book. That makes me smile!
March 14, 2013 - http://ruths-real-life.blogspot.com/2013/03/reviews-of-come-eat-at-my-table.html
I liked this one because I was able to give everyone a sneak peek.
February 27, 2013 - http://ruths-real-life.blogspot.com/2013/02/and-nowthe-first-chapter.html
I love my family and like to embarrass them from time to time.
December 2, 2012 - http://ruths-real-life.blogspot.com/2012/12/the-dreaded-family-photo.html
This is just a sweet story and I hope that all my kids can remain color blind.
September 10, 2012 - http://ruths-real-life.blogspot.com/2012/09/colorblind.html 

Impromptu Blog Post – Love is in the Air

On January 15, 1992 my mother walked into the Wednesday night church service, grinning from ear to ear, with a big announcement to make. She was waiting for the perfect moment to make that announcement.  She waited through announcements. She waited through the singing, feeling as if she was going to burst. She waited while one of her friends sang special music. That was all it took. My mother burst out in tears.

Now, before you get too upset, you must realize these were happy tears. The woman who sang special music that evening was a mother of four little boys. The song she sang held a lot of meaning for her. The song was written from the perspective of a mother who was praying for some unknown little girl. You see, that girl would one day capture her son’s heart and he would marry her.
The reason my mother was crying? It was the day her very first grandchild was born; a little girl.
I was blessed to realize right from day one how important it is to pray for our children and the ones they will marry. And I have done so. I have had my own opinions over the years of who I think would be good options, but I have kept those opinions mostly to myself.
Today that little girl of mine has made her choice and I think she has chosen well. I had always promised that I would not force my opinions on her about her wedding, when the day should come. It will be her wedding and it is her special day with her groom.  However, I will make one request. This song WILL be sung as a testament to God’s faithfulness in providing for my precious little girl.
My mom won’t be able to be at her granddaughter’s wedding or any of her other grandchildren's weddings. She passed away when B was barely a year old. However her memory will be there along with the memory of my daughter’s birth and the memory of songs sung.
For all you parents listen to the words of the song - http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ah_uGgDDT-c You will be challenged to pray for your kids and their future spouses. Congratulations BB and EB
Posted by Ruth O'Neil at 11:35 AM 3 comments: Spiritual Insights from Classic Literature Wizard of Oz Come Eat at My Table Verses for Our Daughters Noah's Ark Victory Song Whispers from God Tyndale Rewards 
Ruth O'Neil - Author