|Posted by Bethanny Lawson on October 25, 2018 at 3:15 PM||comments (0)|
Why I Stand
I stand because I've spent every memorial day finding my relative's names on the veteran’s wall in our town square.
I stand because the walls and towers and statues and walkways with the names of our beloved who didn't get the privilege of dying on home ground are too large, hold too many names.
I stand because each breath of free air I draw outside is a gift.
I stand because there are still flowers being left on white cross-marked graves all across our nation.
I stand because my grandpa tells me stories of the things he's seen in a plane away from home when he was young every time I'm with him.
I stand because he has been everywhere and none of everywhere was where he belonged.
I stand because he has countless memorabilia in honor of that time, of his job, of the people he knew and the people he fought.
I stand because every veteran’s discount, every “thank you for your service,” is a reminder of the stories he tells me.
I stand because he is proud of his service, because he wears it like a badge, but he talks about it in a quietly proud way that makes me want to stand a little taller.
I stand because my grandpa dubbed my country worth sacrificing for, and did the sacrificing on my behalf.
I stand because I have spent 19 years praying my uncle comes home for one more Christmas.
I stand because I read a letter from him on my 16th birthday with tears in my eyes for how much love it contained, but read it without him present.
I stand because in that letter he told me that his gift to me and everyone he loves is that he's not here with us to celebrate, because he's away giving us the freedom to celebrate.
I stand because his face was missing in the crowd at my graduation.
I stand because I never know where he is and I'm not ever going to know where.
I stand because that one Christmas he couldn't come home was empty despite the presents in our trunk and the food in our bellies.
I stand because I'm counting down every single day until I see him again, and because that one day will pass too fast and then I'll count down 365 more.
I stand because my hugs with him are a little longer than my hugs with anyone else, but I don't get them often enough.
I stand because there is never enough time to catch him up on all that I've done and has happened to me in a year's time, and because he talks very little about how he spends his years away.
I stand because I am related to the greatest heroes mankind has ever known, because I do not take their service for granted, and because I am prouder of nothing in my life than I am of knowing them.
These are my reasons for standing. I do not presume to have the authority to tell you whether or not you should do likewise. My uncle and my grandpa and so many others have ensured you have every right to make that choice on your own behalf.
But as for me, I will stand. Every time. With pride.
Because it's not about a flag. It's about a people. My people.
So I will stand, because every time I do, my heart could burst with love for the people I am proud of, and for the one person I miss more than anything.
It's the least I can do for the ones who did everything for me.
|Posted by Bethanny Lawson on September 10, 2018 at 1:45 PM||comments (0)|
Once, I met a person, for which I must say
Made the world sparkle brighter, who lit up my life,
And who, today, is the reason for my strife
Against myself and against my mind,
For thinking someone like you could be mine.
I thought you were magic,
That we were meant to collide,
I forgot that when stars cross,
I didn't want to live with the what-ifs,
but that pain would have been nothing compared to this.
It wasn't your fault, but still I'm angry,
At me, at you, at anyone really.
Now I'm sitting in the ashes of the fire I started,
I can still see the flames, and like dust they have parted
All the memory-holders, the pieces of you,
I kept for myself in a box in my room.
I thought as they burned I could say goodbye,
Little did I know I would just start to cry,
Each time I shut one door, throw away the key,
A new one opens, determined to remind me
The you that I damaged, the you that I lost
The you that I wanted, but didn't count the cost.
The you that wrecked me all the way through
The you that now wants nothing to do
With the me who just wishes we'd done things better,
Gone slower, been wiser, thought more about each other.
Maybe it was my fault, maybe it was yours,
Maybe it was no one's, our love was just cursed,
As you float away, part of your own galaxy,
I hope you know you took with you a part of me,
I don't need it back, it was given to you freely,
But even still, I'll always be grieving,
Wishing I'd loved you smarter,
Wishing I'd never met you at all,
Leaning on the healer
Who leads me to the cross.
You see when things ended, and bitterness took root,
We both said things that no one can undo,
And the things that you told me,
Well, they still sting,
But he tells me I'm worthy,
And He's King of kings.
So I'm fitful, and angry, and heartbroken too,
But I know without those things, I couldn't be true
To the person I was made to be,
The person who hurt,
But the person who is healing,
Despite all the dirt
I threw on myself,
Which you made me do,
I just hope that out there, you're healing too,
That you see why we did this, stupid as it was,
Why we had to take the chance, even if it wasn't love.
I'm sure that someday we'll find the people
We thought we were for each other,
Though we weren't able,
And I know you'll find your person, and I'll find mine,
The one who makes you laugh, who lights up your life,
Someday we'll meet at the pearly gates
And in joy recount the tales that we lived,
For now though, go in peace,
And I'll try to find some too,
It's hard in new ways every day,
But I'm thanking the giver anyway,
He gives and takes away, and from each other we were taken,
Now I just have to trust that He wasn't mistaken.
So go love somebody new,
And make your dreams come true,
But never tell her I didn't love you.
|Posted by Bethanny Lawson on June 26, 2018 at 4:45 PM||comments (0)|
A dear friend of mine asked me, over Facebook messenger, a very simple question. “Are you lonely?” And I, in response to that question, sitting in my room with only the light of my phone screen at 2 am, started bawling.
All it took from my friend was three honest, heart-felt words in the form of a question to open up the floodgates I had been holding back.
I've always considered myself a strong person in many ways. I can get anything done I set my mind to, I can fight opposition, if someone thinks I can't do something I'll go prove them wrong, and in the way of friendships, if people don't like me, I can typically get by without friends.
A lot of my strength is completely faked. I'll tell people I don't need friends, I'll tell myself I'm independent, I'll preach over and over on how important it is to be strong all alone because you can't count on anybody to always be there for you.
Yet as often as I say and try to make myself believe these things, when my friend finally just asked me, “are you lonely?” I couldn't help but start crying.
Because I was lonely. I was desperately, heart-breakingly lonely. But how could I tell anybody that? It was like an insult to anyone who loved me. I knew I was loved, I knew there were people there for me. Deep down, I knew these things were true. But not only did I feel guilty for being lonely, I couldn't talk to anybody about it, because it seemed selfish, weak, and ungrateful for what the people I have give to me.
My friend taught me a lot during that conversation, and from that goldmine of her wisdom I want to share three things with you.
One. Everybody gets lonely.
I didn't have to feel guilty for it. I didn't have to think my feelings were wrong. I just needed to recognize they were real and seek help, because my family and friends turned out to be eager and ready to help me. My friend told me she was lonely for a long time, too. She also told me she thought I was an amazing person, and encouraged me to believe things would get better.
Two. You really can't find happiness in anyone or anything but God.
All of my thoughts were correct, but misguided. I was right in the fact that I can't always count on humans to be there for me, I can't expect everyone to be perfect, and I can't find the deep satisfaction I'm longing for in things of the world. I needed reminded that while I shouldn't be seeking joy in physical things, I didn't need to give up on finding joy, because I always could find it in God.
Three. Pure friendship is a gift from God.
Yes, we should find satisfaction in God. Yes, people are going to let us down. But God created fellowship. He created friendship and love. He created people to need each other. We can find our peace in God alone and still have friends. We can enjoy friendship and still be strong. And when we're weak, it's okay to confess it and find a support group full of people who will point you back in the right direction.
|Posted by Bethanny Lawson on May 17, 2018 at 6:30 PM||comments (0)|
Six months ago, Ashlyn Montiel died in a bike accident. Her best friend, Cloudy, is keeping it together, at least on the outside. Cloudy’s insides are a different story: tangled, confused, heartbroken.
Kyle is falling apart, and everyone can tell. Ashlyn was his girlfriend, and when she died, a part of him went with her. Maybe the only part he cares about anymore.
As the two people who loved Ashlyn best, Cloudy and Kyle should be able to lean on each other. But after a terrible mistake last year, they’re barely speaking. So when Cloudy discovers that Ashlyn’s organs were donated after her death and the Montiel family has been in touch with three of the recipients, she does something a little bit crazy and a lot out of character: she steals the letters and convinces Kyle to go on a winter break road trip with her, from Oregon to California to Arizona to Nevada. Maybe if they see the recipients—the people whose lives were saved by Ashlyn’s death—the world will open up again.
Or maybe it will be a huge mistake.
Short Summary: The Way Back to You is a masterpiece that addresses grief realistically, with ties to all the other difficult parts about being a highschooler.
Full Review: I found The Way Back to You in the clearance rack at a local book store. When I read the description on the cover, I knew I had to read it
As someone who has faced a lot of her own losses recently, I have been reading tons of books about grief whether they're good or not. THIS book, however, was very good.
The authors of The Way Back to You were not afraid to get their hands dirty. They dove into the topic of grief unafraid and as such wrote a story that was not only captivating, but was healing.
People looking for a story they can relate to or to help them learn to cope after losing loved ones will find The Way Back to You to fit the bill. Those who cannot relate but just want a good story will also enjoy the book. It grabs the reader's attention from the beginning and holds it, and by switching between the perspectives of two different characters throughout the story, it is sure to appeal to readers of any gender or personality.
Though this book was written as a YA novel, I doubt there is anyone who would not agree it is a touching story with a lot of heart. It's adventurous, heartfelt, authentic, and surprising. The plot twists are not cliche, the characters are realistic, and the resolution satisfying.
All in all, this was a profound book that will leave a lasting impact on readers.
Overall Rating: 5
|Posted by Bethanny Lawson on December 21, 2017 at 11:55 AM||comments (0)|
I'm not allowed to read my parent's love letters.
There have been a few times, when we're rearranging furniture or moving to a new home, when my mom will pull the letters out. All of us kids know what they are. We tend to flock when she gets them out, like our chickens do when they hear us shake their food bag. She'll read them, and we'll read the envelopes, because that's all we're allowed to read. They're quite hilarious. My parents rarely used their real names on the envelopes, it was always nicknames, some so outlandish the post office rejected them.
It's incredible to me that my parents still have those letters. They lived in an age where love letters were a primary form of communication. As a kid, it made me upset that I wasn't allowed to read them. Now though, I understand that love letters are surely deeply personal, a treasure that will hold value, that someone cherishes and takes care of, no matter how yellow or faded the paper and ink become.
I've always said, despite the ability to communicate instantly these days, I want to find a guy who will write love letters back and forth with me. I mean, c'mon, you know it sounds adorable.
I know exactly what I'd do with those letters, too.
I'd keep every last one of them. I'd probably read over them every day. I'd leave tear stains on the heart-wrenchingly sweet parts, blush over the areas that talk about how they see me, I'd giggle over our pet names. I'd cherish them, keep them where they're easily accessible. In fact, I might leave them open all the time. After all, what if I see them in passing on the table and just have to pick them up to read a few lines and be renewed by my love?
I'd read and re-read my favorite sections, especially the parts that would say things like “I miss you, and I can't wait to come back and see you.” I'd hold them to my chest when I finished reading and think “I can't believe someone like this thinks all these wonderful things about me.”
I'm getting butterflies just thinking about it.
Oh, the significance of a love letter. How I hope to experience that joy someday. How I long for the time I get to have the delight I've described above.
But wait... I already have.
That's right, mom. I have a collection of love letters sitting on my desk. And they are precious. And they do give me goosebumps. And they do give me a thousand emotions I'll never be able to describe because they're too beautiful.
You can come ground me now.
You could say I'm head over heels for the guy. And the best thing is, I think he's even more head over heels for me.
I'm not kidding. This is not a joke. I just thought it was confession time. How can I contain something this good? I don't even mind if my mom does panic and goes to my desk to read this collection of mine for herself. I'm in love. I can't write so authentically about something I've never experienced before.
I'm being treated like gold. I'm being called perfect, beautiful, wanted, and so many more things. And believe me, I've got some amazing things to call him, too. Things like wonderful, mighty, everlasting, and Abba Father.
I hope I've succeeded in at least mildly freaking some people out, even if most of you probably know me well enough to have been suspicious this whole time. But think about it. We call the Bible God's love letter to us, but do we treat it like it really is? What if we did?
Let me repeat some of the things I said earlier, but apply it to the Bible this time and let it sink in deep.
What if we read over it every single day? What if we left tear stains on the heart-wrenchingly sweet parts, blush over the areas God talks about how He sees us, giggle over the things He calls us? What if we cherished it, kept it where it's easily accessible? What if we left it open all the time, so we can read it when we pass by and be renewed by God's love? What if we read and re-read our favorite sections, especially the part that says He misses us, and He's coming back for us?
What if we held it to our chest when we finish reading it and think “I can't believe someone like this thinks all these wonderful things about me?”
Are you getting the butterflies yet?
It's a beautiful thing when people write love letters to each other. They say and feel all these things about each other in their letters. It touches the heart on a level unattainable by any others. So how much deeper it is to be that loved by the creator of the heavens.
I am guilty of looking at the Bible as nothing more than a book. I've thought it boring, long, hard to understand. But today I'm seeing it through new eyes.
That book sitting on my desk is full of incredible promises and praises and love notes and encouragement and belief and power I will never deserve. I am unfathomably loved. It's an unnatural love, one that makes me laugh, blush, cry, gasp, sing, and re-read every single day.
And it's a love you can have, too.
|Posted by Bethanny Lawson on August 31, 2017 at 10:35 PM||comments (0)|
"Bad things do happen in the world, like war, natural disasters, disease, but out of those situations always arise stories of ordinary people doing extraordinary things." ~Daryn Kagan
One of the biggest mistakes we make when disaster strikes is thinking we cannot do anything. We watch, helplessly, as others suffer. We sit in comfort while others toil, thinking someone else will get to it. Maybe we're crippled by fear, stumped by indecision, or simply don't know where to begin. Some of my friends are proving this mindset is wrong, and I couldn't be more proud of them.
Hurricane Harvey has caused turmoil that likely won't be completely resolved for years. The devestation is almost beyond our comprehension. Over here where we're safe and far away from danger, what can any of us do to help?
The Leschorn and Lenderman families, of Terre Haute, have started a project called Hoosier Teens for Houston. With their two large vans and a trailer donated by U-Haul, they plan to collect and deliver supplies to the people who have been evacuated from their homes.
The Leschorn and Lenderman kids are the first ambassadors of Hoosier Teens for Houston. They hope many other teens will join them to represent their churches and make a larger impact for the people of Houston.
Stores have been destroyed. Nursing homes have been cleared out. Animals have no shelters. Anything you can buy at a pharmacy without a perscription is needed, and in short supply, in Texas right now.
Hoosier Teens for Houston is asking teen ambassadors to rally their churches and youth groups to help collect what is needed for Houston. Together, they hope to make a real impact on the lives of our fellow Americans. "Nobody deserves to go through what they're going through. We want to try to make it less difficult for them," says Sarah Leschorn.
Hoosiers for Houston prefers donations of supplies, but are also taking monetary donations, welcomes others who want to volunteer to drive and help in Houston when they make the trip, and of course, prayer warriors are always appreciated.
Shannon Lenderman, one of the moms helping back up this project, referenced the song "We Are The Body" by Casting Crownds. "I feel like, in these situations, when we ask God to do something, He is saying 'you are what I'm doing,'" she said.
The Lenderman and Leschorn families are inviting all of you to join with them, taking practical steps to make a difference. They especially want to provide teens with opportunities to learn about the joy and impact of service to others. Anyone interested in being an ambassador for their church, school, or youth group is welcome to attend an informational meeting at the Lenderman's house on Saturday, September 2 at 6 p.m. EST. To get connected, contact Erica at (812) 821-8483, or visit their Facebook page, by following this link: https://www.facebook.com/Hoosiers-For-Houston-1657064217661219/
|Posted by Bethanny Lawson on May 19, 2017 at 11:05 PM||comments (0)|
While I was interning for Crown of Beauty Magazine, I had the incredible privilege of interviewing Christian Music Artist Jason Gray. Since Crown of Beauty has made the decision to stop releasing magazine issues, including the issues we had already started piecing together, our team determined not to let any of the material go to waste
I know this interview was both encouraging and inspiring to me. My belief is that anyone else who reads it will gain something of the same. I'm grateful to Jason for taking the time to answer my questions, and I hope all of you take the time to enjoy reading his insightful responses. God bless!
When did you start writing music?
My mom was in a band when I was growing up, so I was always around music. I knew from a very young age that I wanted to make music and I remember making up songs on my way home from school when I was a 3rd grader. I don't know how much that counts! It was later in high school where I really dug in and started trying to write my first songs. They were all brooding, teenage angsty songs about pain and injustice and love :-)
But God was always a part of the picture, even from a very young age. I didn't grow up in the church, so there wasn’t anybody telling me to listen for the voice of God, and yet I still heard it. I had a very difficult childhood, and my first memory of hearing God speak to me was through Simon & Garfunkel's "Bridge Over Troubled Water." The lyric goes: "like a bridge over troubled water, I will lay me down...." When I heard that song, it was like God whispered in my heart, "psssssttt... this is how I feel about you. I want to be your bridge over troubled water."
There was no one in my life to tell me that God loved me, or that he wanted to speak to me, or that I could interpret songs like that in a spiritual way, so there was no reason for me to think that way... and yet, that's how I heard it. Which tells me that it had to be the Holy Spirit, right? Anyway, all of that to say that since then I've always associated music with the voice of God. And I was only ever interested in writing music that I hoped might help people hear the God who wants to speak to them.
Was music the path you always expected to take in life?
Frederick Buechner says that the place that God calls you to is where your deep gladness and the world's deep hunger intersect. I've always felt very fortunate that I knew where this place was in my life since a very young age. I know that not everybody figures that out so young, so I feel very fortunate that I always knew that music was the place of my deep gladness and the world's deep hunger.
What does the song writing process look like for you?
It's so terrifying! And it doesn't get easier, it gets harder! But it's also fun and really life giving. I'm a slow writer and the battle for me is to not write from my mind, but to write from my heart. It comes naturally for me to write ideas that might make people think, but as Bono of U2 says, “a feeling is stronger than a thought.” So while I work hard to write lyrics that I hope will provoke deeper thinking, I also hope it makes the listener feel something. That’s always the question for me, “does this line, does this melody make me feel something?”
Aside from that, song writing is a lot like prayer. It requires a lot of silence, reflecting, and listening. I always have a sense that I’m more of a song discoverer than a song writer—that the song already exists and is entrusted to me… and if I listen really well, I can receive the song that is waiting to be born through me.
Who were your favorite music artists growing up?
As I mentioned earlier, I first heard the voice of God through a Paul Simon song, so his music has been and continues to be a major influence in my life. I believe he is the greatest living American songwriter. Peter Gabriel and U2 were bit influences. Later on it would be Rich Mullins and Coldplay. These days I learn a lot from OneRepublic and Jon Bellion. Switchfoot’s Jon Foreman has also been a consistent influence.
Where do you draw inspiration for your music from?
I listen to my own life and try to write the songs that I need to hear, trusting that if I need it, maybe someone else does, too. Generally, I feel like the biggest part of my work is listening: listening for what the Holy Spirit is speaking to and therefore through my life.
Which song that you've written do you consider to be the most pure representation of yourself? Why?
Oh gosh, what a great question! Maybe “Nothing Is Wasted” or “Remind Me Who I Am’—though the song I’m the proudest of is a song called “I Will Find A Way.” Why? Because I believe that hell’s greatest weapons against our hearts are fear (anxiety) and shame (that deep sense of unworthiness).
“Nothing Is Wasted” is my best effort at speaking peace to anxious hearts. “Remind Me Who I Am” has proven to be my most effective song to remind people of their essential belovedness. And “I Will Find A Way” is about the beauty of the way Jesus enters the world (and even our lives) to disarm both our fear and shame.
What do you want to accomplish with your work?
In the movie “Shadowlands” about the life of C.S. Lewis, a character says, “we read to know we’re not alone.” I think that’s why we listen to music, too. It reminds us that we’re not alone… and that helps.
Music can be so medicinal. It can help us feel feelings that are locked inside of us but for some reason we can’t let out—maybe grief, anger, gratitude, or even joy. Music unlocks hearts.
In my own life the Holy Spirit has used music to help me understand my own life, to give me courage, to pour healing into broken places, to lead me into forgiveness, worship, and compassion; it makes me want to play and dance for joy. It’s just such wonderful medicine. If my music can be any of those things for someone else, then I will feel like I’ve done something worthwhile.
What advice would you give people struggling to find faith for their futures?
Do not be afraid. Do not be anxious about the timing of things. It’s in the times of waiting that God prepares our hearts to be able to hold the next thing he will give us. Take one step at a time. You won’t know tomorrow’s step until you take today’s step—it’s today’s step that will reveal and give clarity to what step to take tomorrow.
Dwelling on the past leads to depression. Speculating about the future leads to anxiety. So be present to the holy now—this moment is when the voice of the Spirit can be heard. If you spend too much time speculating about the future you will end up only talking with yourself. Seek the Lord now—today—and that is where his voice can be heard. You only need to take the very next step. Sometimes you need to wait.
Do you have any new plans or ideas in the works?
I think maybe the Lord is directing me to begin writing a book. I don’t know exactly what that is supposed to be yet, but I think I need to begin writing and trust that what it’s supposed to be will be revealed as I move forward with faith. Today’s step will reveal tomorrow’s :-)
And finally, because we ask this question of everyone we talk to with Crown of Beauty, who is your favorite Disney Princess?
Princess Leia of course.
|Posted by Bethanny Lawson on April 17, 2017 at 8:55 PM||comments (0)|
It was hot in the training area, humid, and smelled of sweat. Prince Ty stood in the middle of a circle formed by the soldiers gathered around him and a young man who had been bragging of his skills all morning. Naturally, Ty had to put him to the test.
Ty pulled out his sword. “How old are you?” The boy seemed far too young to be half as good as what they all claimed he was.
“Does it matter?” The blond youth shoved thick, wavy locks of hair back from his forehead.
“Not particularly. But I won't pretend I'm not curious.”
“If you win I'll tell you.”
Ty cocked an eyebrow. “Deal.”
The boy lunged at him. Ty blocked the first blow easily but the second came almost before he had recovered from the first. In a matter of seconds, the boy had a strong upper hand and was keeping Ty firmly on the defensive.
Ty waited, biding his time as he learned the boy's habits and watched for weaknesses. Eventually his opponent took a risky step. Ready, Ty took the opportunity to doge the blow and move in on the boy.
The blond hadn't been expecting it, and staggered back, struggling to defend himself from Ty's fast-paced strokes. He made a move so fast and surprising that Ty didn't have time to think. He blocked the blade in the only way that came to his mind and in doing so shoved his blade into the boy's side.
Dropping his sword, the boy backed away, stumbling on the dirt floor and falling on his rear. “Augh. Ow!” He clamped a hand over the wound, but not before Ty spotted the red seeping into his shirt.
“I'm so sorry.” He dropped to his knee next to the boy. “How bad is it?”
“I'm fine,” he muttered through clenched teeth.
“Are you sure?” Ty moved to check. “It felt like I got you pretty good.”
“No.” the boy pushed him away. “I'm fine.”
“Stop trying to act tough and let me look at it.”
“Don't touch me!” The boy's voice cracked and Ty could see fear in his eyes. He helped him to his feet, not letting go of his arm once he had him up. “Come with me,” he said firmly, helping the boy walk to a small room off to the side.
Ty made the boy sit down on a bench. “Now, behave yourself. Sometimes even what seems to be minor injuries in practice can become a big deal if you don't tend to them.”
“I can take care of myself.”
“I'm well aware. But since you're not, I'm going to do it for you.”
The boy protested and fought but couldn't overpower Ty. The prince removed the boy's hand from his side through use of some force to reveal a shirt that was blood soaked at the side. “See? This isn't fine.” He turned to a small cupboard against the wall and pulled out white rags. “Would someone get me a pitcher of water?” He called out the door.
He turned back to the boy and lifted the boy's shirt. The boy sucked in a breath as Ty pushed a rag against the wound. “There's extra fabric in the way,” Ty muttered, mostly to himself. He gripped the white binding material blocking him from properly treating the wound and ripped it. A man came in and handed Ty the water. “Thank you.”
The man's eyes grew wide. “Your highness...”
“I know.” Ty soaked a rag in the water and started cleaning around the boy's wound.
“What are you going to do about it?”
“He'll be fine. Just needs cleaned up so it doesn't get infected.”
“Yeah?” Ty finished cleaning and started wrapping rags tightly around the wound.
“I can finish it,” The boy demanded, grabbing Ty's hand forcefully to stop him and taking the bandage away.
Ty put his hands in the air in surrender, letting the boy's shirt fall back down and standing up. “That ought to do the trick.” He finally looked up from his work at the youth in front of him, still dejectedly wrapping the bandage, and in a quick, silent moment realization struck him like a boulder. “You are not a boy.”
The young soldier... now revealed to, in fact, be a female, crossed her arms and glared at him. “No, I'm not.”
Ty looked to the other soldier standing beside him, and back to the girl. “I won. So tell me. How old are you?”
“Your name? Your real name.”
“How long have you been here?”
She shrugged. “Couple of months.”
“Where'd you learn to fight like that?”
She peered at him, halfway between a snarl and confusion. “Anyone can do it if they work hard enough at it.”
“True. But not like you just did.”
She flounced back against the wall. “My father's a blacksmith. Makes weapons for the army. I've been around them my whole life, so naturally, I learned my way around a sword pretty quick.”
“What are you going to do?” The other soldier asked Ty.
“What do you mean?”
“It's illegal for a woman to join the army.”
Ty studied the girl before him. “I know. But she's good. And she's already been doing it for months.”
“You're not going to tell the king?”
Ty looked back to the girl, who was still watching him with arms crossed and an altogether disgusted look on her face, and groaned. “I guess I'm going to have to.”
|Posted by Bethanny Lawson on July 1, 2016 at 6:40 PM||comments (0)|
|Posted by Bethanny Lawson on June 26, 2016 at 6:20 PM||comments (0)|
"The story of four sisters-Diamond, Shelia, Crystal, and Felicity who dread their summer break because of their mom. A timely and hilarious read told through the eyes and voice of adolescent authors about their perspective of Mom's summertime "fun".
Young readers will empathize with the youthful perspective of parents and “their ways”. Parents will enjoy reading about the feelings of the four girls in the story, nodding in agreement from the beginning to the end. The entire family will enjoy this book. Instead of those great summer trips and long lazy days of summer, the four sisters complain about having to eat healthy and exercise, do homework and chores, and more. Throughout the book the girls tell of important life lessons taught by their parents. These lessons are told in a comical way."