bedtime, Faith, halloween, monsters, Tonya Jewel Blessing

Bedtime Monsters

Tonya Jewel Blessing

My great-nephew, Sawyer, is three. His light brown hair is often ruffled. His wide blue eyes twinkle with mischief. His full lips are quick to smile, and his chubby arms and legs are healthy to do whatever is in his heart.

I recently enjoyed some creative playtime with him. The swing set, which included a slide, climbing ladder, and tiny clubhouse, was set on a sand platform by a small pond. Sawyer was acting as the papa and I was his daughter. Before our pretend bedtime, Sawyer noticed monsters in the pond. He quickly explained that since he was the daddy and I was the daughter that he would take care of the monsters.

He armed himself with a stick and climbed down from the small cubby at the top of the slide. He waved his “weapon” and shouted. Then, returned to our sleeping quarters declaring that the monsters were dead and that daddys always take care of their children. Sawyer was not only my hero during our playtime, he was also a bedtime storyteller, the keeper of the alarm, and breakfast maker.

My sweet great-nephew is confident in his parents’ love. He trusts them to provide security and safety. I found his simple faith that mom and dad would take care of any monsters refreshing.

The monsters of fear and insecurity sometimes appear out of nowhere just as I am falling asleep. They lurk in the recesses of my mind. My weapon is not a stick but the Word of God. There is power in knowing that Papa God can be trusted. I am confident in His love and know that He provides security and safety.

There is so much unrest in our world. Fear is being openly used to manipulate. Anxiety and depression are on the rise. People are holding out for a hero. They are looking for someone to rescue them from the harshness of living in this day and age.

Holding Out for a Hero
Bonnie Tyler

Larger than life
And he’s gotta be larger than life!
And it’s gotta be soon
He’s gotta be sure
I’m holding out for a hero ’til the morning light
I need a hero
And he’s gotta be fresh from the fight
And he’s gotta be fast
He’s gotta be strong
I’m holding out for a hero ’til the end of the night
I need a hero
And I dream of what I need
Late at night I toss and I turn
Isn’t there a white knight upon a fiery steed?
Where’s the streetwise Hercules to fight the rising odds?
And where are all the gods?
Where have all the good men gone  


There are heroes among us who sacrifice for others, but the greatest hero is Jesus. He paid the ultimate sacrifice. He is strong, fast, sure, and larger than life!

Tonya Jewel Blessing is the esteemed author of the Big Creek series. To book Tonya for a presentation or speaking engagement, even via Zoom, please contact us!

An “unreservedly recommended work for libraries” – Midwest Reviews, 2020
Tonya’s official website

Capture Books and its authors are happily represented by the publicity of Books for Bonding Hearts where you will find several children’s books of high literary quality.

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19

adaption, breath of joy, dreams, op-ed, singing, Summertime

Let Songs Be Heard and Not Sighs

Something rather good has erupted like pollen from this past spring and then the addition of summer’s social isolation. My mind has been drifting.

All by itself, it is dredging up memories, mostly good ones. I mean, the really, really good memories are from the innocence and wonder of a typical American childhood, really distant memories – from lifetimes ago – when we were still allowed to spend pennies at the store, and nobody told us the mint was not making coin.

Simply Summer Breath of Joy

A recent National Geographic study polled many people around the world—including more than 600 featured in just one study—who say they are experiencing a new phenomenon: coronavirus pandemic dreams.

Science has long suggested that dream content and emotions are connected to wellbeing while we’re awake. Bizarre dreams laden with symbolism allow some dreamers to overcome intense memories or everyday psychological stressors within the safety of their subconscious.

The virus is invisible, and I think that’s why it’s transformed, the study concludes,

The virus is invisible, and I think that’s why it’s transformed into so many different things.

Deirdre Barrett, Harvard University

This week I woke up in one of those post-dream phases where you’re not asleep but not quite awake, either: the best time to rein in the edges of your dream and frame it before it is erased by cornflakes and coffee and morning light.

I remained as still as possible to capture the details.

We were all back in elementary school. As dreams rarely make sense, my classmates included pint-sized versions of people I have known throughout my lifetime, even my grandmother.

No matter that she was in grade school a full 60+ years before I was; dreams are like that.

Let it be

So anyway. We were out on the playground. It was recess and lunchtime and a cluster of us were sitting cross-legged in a circle near the swing set. I remember there was a teeter-totter there, too.

We were trading lunches.

Two Twinkies for a homemade cookie.
Bologna for a PBJ.
An apple for a Hershey Bar

A kid named Robert was in the circle, and he had a liverwurst sandwich. This detail rang true – there really was a kid named Robert in the first grade whose mom packed a liverwurst sandwich nearly every day; Robert seemed to like it and rarely traded it out. He probably wouldn’t have very many takers, anyway.

I mean, liverwurst.

It was only a dream, but it had real slices of reality sandwiched in.
Maybe you, too, did your share of lunchtime negotiations back in the day.
You got rid of those vegetables and Mom was none the wiser.

Trading lunches was a childhood career for me

Those murky-dream-drenched lunch swaps – snippets of real memories rising to greet me during the Great Sequester of 2020.

A metaphor for what we seem to be doing these days ~

Opening our lunch pail, assessing the situation, and looking up to see what tastes better on that day. Negotiating a trade, pooling our resources, helping each other survive the “liverwurst” of life.

What if?
What if we traded sorrows for singing?
Worry for watchfulness…
Anxiety for trust.
News grazing for window gazing.
Deep breathing for stress eating….
Curiosity for despair.
These are good swaps, life-lifters.
Switching out the bologna for a ribeye; 
trading the mundane for the moment you will savor 
and return to it again and again
for a tasty reminder during a day of scarcity.

There’s a song lyric from a favorite musical that goes like this:

The clouded sun shall brightly rise,
And songs be heard instead of sighs.

Godspell

What a glorious swap.

A chorus of songs rising up to conquer the gloom – a goofy, ravaged, joyful mix of imperfect voices. Gathering momentum, drowning out the cries and the sighs.

We will wake from this dreamlike state one day, looking to each other for guidance into the light of a New Normal.

Pass me the Corn Flakes, I can hardly wait.

Kathy Joy, wordsmith, event speaker
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Advice, featured, How To, inspirational, op-ed, Tonya Jewel Blessing

The Woman Writer

Tonya Jewel Blessing

Most often when the day draws to a close and bedtime is near, my thoughts turn toward the story I am currently reading, and my heart swells with anticipation for when I climb between the sheets, gather two pillows on which to rest my head, switch on the lamp next to my side of the bed, and open a book to the dog eared page where I left off the night before.

Reading in Bed

I read myself to sleep most nights. Sometimes the book is so engaging that I read myself awake until the wee hours of the morning.

As a small girl, I fell deeply in love with books, and my admiration has not waned.

Along with my love of reading as a child, I dreamed of being a writer. I thought all writers were famous and lived loftily in houses in lovely places. They were also people of means who traveled the world looking for the next setting for their grand-scale story.

I have written three books (two novels and a leadership tool for women in ministry) and have a third novel in mind. BUT, somehow, the exotic places in my dreams and the resources to explore and experience adventures around the world based on book sales have not happened.

Writing and publishing are time-consuming and costly. In fact, it took me several years in the business to begin seeing a small profit. For the first two years, virtually nothing much sold. Sometimes, that can be the entire life of a book. But something hit a nerve somewhere in the third year of marketing of my first West Virginia book, and it made such a turn around that I wrote my sequel.

Writing and publishing a novel is a long, complicated, collaborative affair…

Jim Fergus

Last year, an audiobook organization located in Atlanta, Georgia approached me about recording my novels: The Whispering of the Willows and The Melody of the Mulberries (Book 1 and Book 2 in the Big Creek Series). I was paid a nice advance, and the contract included receiving a small sum of money from each recording sold after the number of books represented by the advance had been sold. I paid my publisher, Capture Books, for negotiating the arrangement out of the advance. I am proud to say that last month, I received my first royalty check from the audiobook distributor for $34.

This morning, I opened my email to find a nice review from Midwest Book Review, the official book reviewing agency of Amazon. This is what it said,

“An exceptionally well written and entertaining work of historical romance for young adult readers that is unreservedly recommended for both high school and community library collections, it should be noted for personal reading lists that ‘The Melody of the Mulberries’ is also readily available in a paperback edition.”

A young writer recently asked me about the probability of her making a living writing. My initial thoughts were about the costs involved and the time spent in meetings and working on marketing, but instead, I told her to read every book placed in her hands, to write long into the night, and to wake-up dreaming about traveling the world either in her thoughts or in heels walking on faraway soil.

I don’t drink alcoholic beverages but have been known to toast with a ice-filled glass of water, a swirl of diet soda, or even cranberry juice – so here’s to the writers young and old, those starting out in publishing or the seasoned author – read, write, and dream!

Tonya Jewel Blessing is a founding author and partner of the Capture Books boutique publishing group. Her vision and contributions to the group have been a cornerstone to the ministry and success of several authors and readers to date.

If you would like to view the original post and join Tonya Jewel Blessing’s personal email list, find it here. https://mailchi.mp/1cc476cfbead/author-updates-the-woman-writer?e=babc5eea8a

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Advice, featured, op-ed, Tonya Jewel Blessing

Bottoms Up!

Tonya Jewel Blessing

Recently, I joined my family in tubing down the Tuscarawas River.

Everyone had a wonderful time, except for my great-nephew, a four-year-old. The six-hour adventure was too much for him. My peaceful day of sunshine, cool water, and a slight breeze also included Joey’s repeated interruptions and adamant cries, “Get me out of here!” The cutie even told me a few days later, “Aunt T, I hate tubing!”

At once point along the rolling river, I got stuck by the shallow bank among logs, rocks, and overhanging trees.

A helpful friend told me to lift my bottom and kick my legs.

Soothing Rain is a devotional written by Tonya Blessing and Sue Summers

It was good advice, and I was soon on my way.

In my Appalachian historical novel, The Melody of the Mulberries, the Spanish Flu makes an ugly appearance. The flu pandemic originally occurred between 1918 and 1920 and affected the lives of over 500 million people. My story is set during the late 1920s when there was a small resurgence of influenza. In this excerpt, the granny witch is dying. She has been a nemesis in teacher Ernest’s side, but he comes along to help her.

A mystery apprentice acts as a witness.

 He patted her hand and tried to soothe her, “Granny, I’m knowing you think that I don’t like you, but, in truth, I admire you,” Ernest began.
The weary woman opened her glassy eyes and immediately closed them again. The weight of her chin rested on her upper chest.“You’ve been strong in tough times. You’ve lived in the wilds and did your best to be helping others. Now, I am wanting to help you. I know you believe in God, but it’s important to believe that God sent His Son Jesus to save us. Your time on earth might be coming to an end. I’m gonna pray, and I’m wanting you to pray with me.”

            Ernest motioned for Minerva to join them. They made a hand circle. He closed his eyes and prayed a simple prayer. When he opened his eyes and looked at Granny, she had released Minerva’s hand. The wrinkled worn weathered hand was raised in the air like Granny was reaching for someone.

The Melody of the Mulberries

We are living in unusual times.

If we are not careful, we can easily become entangled along the bank, get stuck, and become immobile.  Granny lifted her hand reaching for God. We can also lift our hands reaching out for hope and the love of a Savior.

Published Works (Available on Amazon)

Tonya Jewel Blessing writes and speaks in many types of venues in America, Africa, and Asia
https://www.tonyajewelblessing.com/
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