Hope Comes Full Circle

My mother taught me to love reading. After the farm chores were completed, the supper dishes washed and the homework finished — everyone in our family sat down to read. This discipline meant we drove to the library every week and checked out stacks of books.

Then an important milestone changed my reading habits.library

When I was twelve, Mom gathered my siblings and I for our weekly library run. I searched through each of the young adult books, but couldn’t find one I hadn’t already read or one that truly interested me. And I was NOT going to check out the children’s section. That was for little kids like my brother and sister.

So I wandered into the adult section and found a couple of books I wanted to read. But when I took them to the librarian for her dated stamp, she peered at me over her glasses and said, “These are adult books, young lady.”

“I know, ma’am. But I’ve read all the young adult books. I want to read these.”

“You are not allowed to read any of the books in the adult section. Take them back.”

Five minutes later, Mom found me in the adult section, cradling the books I could not read and crying over my bad luck. I wasn’t old enough yet.

“What’s the matter with you?” Mom demanded. She never wasted time with emotions. Not a nurturer, but a great defender.

When I told her what had happened, she grabbed my hand and those two books. Together, we marched toward the librarian’s towering desk.

Mom’s voice was harsh. “I understand you won’t let my daughter check out these books.”

“That’s right, ma’am. These books are from the adult section and….”

“I know where they’re from. May I remind you this library exists because taxpayers like me pay for it?”

“But ma’am…sh-h-h…we have a policy….”

The volume of Mom’s voice rose. “And may I also remind you that I pay your salary and the electric bill for this place.”

“But ma’am, an adolescent such as your daughter can’t possibly understand these books.”

“My daughter — in fact, all my children read well above their grade levels. If she has any questions about the words, she can ask me. Now…we ARE checking out these books for my daughter. Today.”

During the stare-down of these two powerful women, I felt the electricity of the emotional standoff. But I knew who would win.

Nobody ever beat down my mother, especially when it came to defending her children.

That day, I walked out of the library with The Autobiography of Eleanor Roosevelt and The Grapes of Wrath. I read both books and never had to ask Mom for help with the words.

A few weeks ago, I was asked to participate in that same library’s Author Fest. It was a coming full circle from the adolescent to the adult author.

Unfortunately, the weather from this winter-that-won’t-quit stopped me from attending. I simply could not travel through six inches of snow to that cherished Oklahoma library.

But they promised to keep me on the list for next year. And one of my books is now shelved in the library that wouldn’t allow a young girl to read an adult book.

Life comes full circle and hope travels with it. What we learn as children overshadows how we act as adults. That’s why childhood is so important.

And that’s why words give me hope.

©2019 RJ Thesman – All Rights Reserved

The book now shelved in that library is titled Hope Shines. Check it out.

Hope Respects the Alzheimer’s Patient

The blog post for this week was already written, edited and almost scheduled.Alz lady - nurse

Then I had second thoughts.

It was a post about my mother and shared one of the family secrets she told me years ago. I felt it was a great post, and I hoped it would interest my followers as well as give them insights into the life of my mother.

But somehow – I couldn’t post it.

Mom is an extrovert but she has also been a rather private person, hiding her secrets in a sacred soul place. That’s what women in her demographic learned to do.

Never would she have shared her life via social media nor would she want me to do that by proxy for her. I understand. Further, I respect that piece of her personality and choose to keep aspects of her life – and ultimately my family’s life – private.

I know some of the secrets because I snooped in her hope chest years ago and read the beautiful love letters my parents wrote to each other.

Other secrets were told to me by caring and not-so-caring relatives while my instincts picked up on some of the more private stories. When I asked Mom to explain these missing pieces of history, she pursed her lips and changed the subject.

Off limits – even though I am family.


So just because I am a writer, that does not give me license to share with the world all about my mother’s life.


I will say simply that she lived life well. She raised three children and loved her husband with all her heart. She served as a nurse, made sure each of us checked out books from the library each week and inspected our ears after bath time.

And because I respect her and the life she lived, I will keep her secrets in that sacred place of my own soul – a pact between us that no one else needs to know.

I love you, Mom.

©2015 RJ Thesman – Author of the Reverend G Books http://www.crossrivermedia.com/portfolio/1624/gallery/fiction/

Hope Rises During Sabbatical

During this week, I am on Sabbatical – taking a rest from ministry as a home stay-cation. Relaxing_Time_by_YuzuruKuN

When I looked at my calendar for April – May and the soon-to-be-released third book of the Reverend G series – I knew I needed to do some proactive regeneration.

A Sabbatical is essential for renewing creativity. Usually scheduled every seventh year, its intent is to build restoration, to fulfill a goal or to complete research for a project.

The goal of my Sabbatical is an emotional reboot, to refresh my senses and inhale more of the divine than I exhale in service.

Fortunately, I work in a ministry that allows me the flexibility to use vacation pay for Sabbatical rest. In fact, at GateWay of Hope, we remind women to take care of themselves, to rest, to have some fun, to just “be.”

So I am trying to be a good example and walk the talk.

It is fairly impossible to be completely absent from work as I wake up at night to pray for those I serve and coach. In those early dawn hours, I will listen intently for clues about my characters and how to best format my current novel.

My one supreme goal is to listen hard – to focus on my Heavenly Husband, scribble His words in my journal and take long walks with Him.

I may cut back some of the death of winter and release spring’s life to my gardens. The spiritual analogy comes easy as I consider any dead spirituality the Master Gardener needs to prune.

I will not wear my watch. I will not place any expectations on myself other than finishing the library book I checked out.

Instead, I wish to wear my celebration of the Sabbath as a break from the common cares.

Some time during my Sabbatical, I will pull out my colors and play with a Mandela. Maybe the weather will be warm enough to do this on my deck.

Jeff Goins writes that “We often listen to the adult in our heads instead of the child in our hearts.”

During this week of restoration, I want to connect with my inner child and crawl into my Father’s lap.

Then hopefully, at the end of the week, as the Creator modeled at the end of his busy week, I can declare my Sabbatical good.

©2015 RJ Thesman – author of the Reverend G books – http://amzn.to/1rXlCyh

Relaxation Image by YuzuruKuN