Tag Archives: redemption

Author Interview and Promo with Lynette Davis: Even Rain Is Just Water

The PBS Blog

I have known Lynette for about two years now. Though it’s hard to pinpoint any exact moments in the blogosphere, I believe we met when she commented on my blog post, Why Memoirs are Special. From there we have gone on to follow each other’s blogs, email lists, social media, and she even bought one of my paperbacks.

Today, I am honored to help to promote her memoir, Even Rain is Just Water. Eck!

OK. I am calm. But, you all know that I would like to write a memoir one day. It is my honor to witness how it is done from those who’ve been where I am trying to go. Lynette’s book released in ebook on May 30, 2017. Today, she is releasing the paperback!

I love paperbacks!

AND I’ve  already read the book. Yup. I beat you.

Before getting into the book, let’s learn more about…

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Cracked Pots

Glimpses of the Greater

Shattered pieces

Shards of clay

Life has handled us roughly

The once smooth texture

Now riddled with a thousand cracks

Damaged goods

Too far gone

We slide to the back of the shelf

Hide ourselves behind the unbroken pots

And we give up on ourselves

But He doesn’t

He searches in the shadows

For those who hide

For those whose confidence has shattered

To bring restoration and to bring new hope

Cracks of shame

Filled with the clay of grace

Old scars of torment

Now our tale of redemption

We step forward

Back into the light

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A Schuyler Falls Story: The Pearl

Odyssey of a Novice Writer

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The black man stood a fair distance from the group of mourners at the gravesite.  His nervous fingers worried the soft hat in his hands. He was dressed in his Sunday best – a worn blue suit, freshly pressed. The occasion demanded it.

It wasn’t every day a man buried his father.

He couldn’t make out the minister’s words, but Moody guessed the content. His old man had been a pillar of the Schuyler Falls Methodist Church. Moody watched the faithful dab their eyes.

People only see what they want to see, he thought.

Not so when it came to Granny Ella, standing ramrod straight at the foot of her son’s grave, eyes fixed on something only she could see.

No fake sentiment there.

She knew too well the stiff-necked nature of the man being buried.

Finally the service ended and Moody watched as Granny Ella and the others…

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