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Book Giveaway: The Undertaker’s Wife

03.11.2015

You know how you run into people at a party or wherever and they try to regale you with some story about how they accidentally bought a three-legged dog (which actually happened to Robbie’s aunt) or how they tried to use a cherry bomb to unclog a toilet (his uncle, who stood on the lid), and they wrap it all up and say, “My life should be a book!”?

For most people, that’s not true. Trust me. Partial dogs and imploded commodes will get you through the appetizer course, sure, but that’s about it.

For Dee Oliver, though, her life was a memoir screaming to be written. And, thanks be to God, it has been! The Undertaker’s Wife: A True Story of Love Loss, and Laughter in the Unlikeliest of Places, releases this month. If you’ve ever seen The Blindside or The Help or even a rerun of The Addams Family, you will read Dee’s story and think, “Can the movie be far behind?”

Okay, okay. So I’m a little biased. In the interest of full disclosure, I wrote the book with Dee. But even our minister liked it: “Southern women have found their Mark Twain in Dee Oliver!” is what he had to say. (Even before he got his free copy.)

Here’s a little excerpt from the back jacket, just to whet your appetite:

On Dee Branch’s first date with Johnnie Oliver, a fourth-generation funeral director, she knew she was in for a unique relationship when he had to leave “for just a minute” – and came back to the car with a corpse.

You can’t make this stuff up.

It’s not really a spoiler to let you know that Johnnie dies (you pick that up in the first chapter), or that Dee winds up working in an African American funeral home (which you can read for yourself on the back cover). I’d tell more (and believe me, there’s plenty, from the time Johnnie nearly choked to death on her engagement ring, to the funeral homily about the man who had been “drinkin’ and chasin’ women and never bein’ much of a daddy to his kids” and still got into heaven) but I’d rather you read the book for yourself. Part memoir, part how-to book, The Undertaker’s Wife is probably the best book I’ve ever read (and certainly the best one I’ve ever had a hand in writing) about the common ground of grief, the practicalities of death, and the ever-present faithfulness of God.

And here’s a nifty treat: By posting a comment on this blog, you’ll be entered for a chance to win a free copy of The Undertaker’s Wife. Check back on Friday to see who won – I’ll reveal the “super lucky” winner (have you noticed that “super” is, like, the most popular blog word ever? Super cute shoes! Super easy dinner recipe! Super helpful tip for stain removal!) at the end of this post.

(If giveaways aren’t your thing, or if you’re like me and you aren’t really sure how to post a comment on someone’s blog, you can click here and buy the book for yourself.)

And, if you happen to be in or around Virginia Beach, Virginia, on March 25, please join us for a special book launch with Changing Seasons. I’ll be interviewing Dee and, even though she doesn’t know it yet, we’re going to take questions from the audience. Last time I heard Dee speak, a 76-year-old woman wanted to know “where you put the Botox.”

(If possible, please come up with a new question this time.)

(Although that was a good one.)

(I mean, people want to know.)

Hope to see you on March 25th…or on the blog!

BOOK GIVEAWAY UPDATE: Congratulations to Nancy Keshian of Winston-Salem, NC. She was the 7th person to comment on this post, and will soon be receiving her free copy of The Undertaker’s Wife. Hope you enjoy reading it as much as we enjoyed writing it, Nancy!

Friday Prayer for Anxious Minds

03.06.2015

Earlier this week, I wrote about giving up worry. I’m trying to give it up for Lent; I’d like to get rid of it forever.

Philippians 4:6 is, perhaps, the Bible’s best-known “anti-worry” verse. “Do not be anxious about anything, but in everything, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God.”

Then comes the promise: “And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.” (v. 7)

That’s all good – great, even. But how do we do that, really? How do we stop being anxious?

I think the answer comes in the very next verse, and it’s what I was trying to get at in my blog as I blathered on about cows in cornfields. We train our minds to move along familiar pathways. If we truly want to move from a place of worry to a place of peace, we need to heed Paul’s advice to the Philippians and focus on those things that enable peace to thrive:

“Whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable – if anything is excellent or praiseworthy – think about such things.”

(Now there’s a little Bible Xanax to get you pointed in the right direction!)

If you wrestle with worry (whether it’s once in awhile, all the time, or as part of your Lenten fast), turn Philippians 4:6-8 into a prayer and get started on retraining your mind:

Heavenly Father, don’t let me be anxious about anything. Send your peace to guard my heart and mind. Help me think about that which is true, noble, right, pure, lovely, admirable, excellent, and praiseworthy. (Philippians 4:6-8)

Friday Prayer for the Persecuted Church

02.27.2015

For Christians, persecution is nothing new. Way back when the Apostle Paul was sending letters from prison, he warned his young protege, Timothy, that such suffering was part and parcel of the Christian life. “In fact,” Paul wrote, without any attempt to sugarcoat his message, “everyone who wants to live a godly life in Christ Jesus will be persecuted” (2 Timothy 3:12). Shortly after writing these words, Paul was martyred.

Persecution is nothing new, nor (if we believe Paul’s words) should it surprise us. Still, though, we recoil from the horrific videotaped execution of 21 Egyptian Christians, or the news that 150 of our fellow believers – women, children, and elderly people – have been abducted in Syria. We grieve, we get angry, we feel impotent.

And, even though we may live half a world away, we can relate to the Assyrian Christian woman interviewed by the Associated Press this week: “I just feel so helpless,” she said, as she awaited news of her relatives’ fate. “I cannot do anything for them but pray.”

I cannot do anything for them but pray. That sounds so insignificant, yet it holds so much power.

Encouraged by the #Pray703 movement, which calls people to pray for the persecuted Christians at 7:03 a.m. every day, I began praying in earnest this week. I started by looking up verses about persecution, and was immediately captivated by Hebrews 10:33, written to a group of people who had faced more than their fair share of suffering: “Sometimes you were publicly exposed to insult and persecution; at other times, you stood side by side with those who were so treated.”

That’s what I want to do.

I want to stand side by side with my brothers and sisters in Libya, Syria, and all over the world. I want to stand side by side with them in prayer. They may be out of my reach, but they are not out of God’s, and I know that I can count on his infinite love, his limitless power, and his faithful promise to work “in all things for the good of those who love him” (Romans 8:28).

Here are just a few of the verses I prayed this week, if you want to join me:

Show yourself faithful, O Lord. Strengthen and protect our brothers and sisters from the evil one. (2 Thessalonians 3:3)

Remind these persecuted Christians that nothing – no hardship, persecution, famine, nakedness, danger, or sword – can separate them from your love. (Romans 8:35-39)

Thank you for our brothers and sisters who have given an answer to those who have asked about the reason for their hope. Thank you for their gentleness and respect. May those who speak maliciously against them be ashamed of their slander. (1 (Peter 3:15-16.)

Let our brothers and sisters take refuge in you and be glad; let them ever sing for joy. Spread your protection over them, bless them, and surround them with your favor as with a shield. (Psalm 5:11-12)

In Paul’s letter to Timothy, he said that evil men would go “from bad to worse, deceiving and being deceived.” Those words might as well have been written yesterday; they were true then and they are true today. And yet neither Timothy nor Paul lost hope. Instead, they stood side by side with their fellow Christians, enduring unimaginable hardship, trusting God, and proclaiming the name of Christ.

Side by side. Let’s stand with them, together.

What, me worry?

03.04.2015

Here we are, marking the end of Lent: Week 2. I know people who have given up all sorts of things, from the usual (sweets, which Annesley’s roommate Kate has sworn off for the season) to the interesting (cussing, offered up by my favorite local columnist, Kerry Dougherty.)

(How’s that working for you, Kerry?)

Me, I gave up worrying.

I don’t always give something up, but this year, when the minister said that Lent “reveals where your heart is” and that it serves as a call to draw closer to God and give up anything that gets in the way of that relationship, I knew what I had to do. My heart, old and gnarly stump that it is, can get bound up in worry – and sometimes, the forest grows so thick that I can hardly see the Light.

Worry can make a person do funny things. When Robbie was in high school and the time came for him to take the SATs, it hit me that I wasn’t entirely sure he knew how to read. I mean, I assumed he could, but I had never actually seen it. Eager to help him nail at least a few words on the vocab test, I bought a case of lacrosse balls and personalized them as his Valentine’s present:

Robbie was kind enough not to complain that I’d ruined a perfectly good case of balls, but when he actually used them (that’s my boy!), things got a wee bit ugly. Turns out, red Sharpie marker isn’t really “permanent,” and Robbie ended up with pink string – I think the technical term is “mesh” – in his lacrosse stick.

Needless to say, that provoked a few caustic comments. Irascible, even.

As with sweets and cussing, I am sure there are all sorts of strategies one could employ to get rid of worry, but for me, the only tactic that has shown any promise is the same one Paul used, back when he was pumping up the Corinthians: “We take captive every thought to make it obedient to Christ.” (2 Cor. 10:5)

Medical research (and buckle up, because I am heading way out of my strike zone here) reveals that the neural pathways in our brains work kind of like a cow going through a cornfield. The first time a thought goes through the path, it doesn’t leave much of a trace. But keep on treading the same ground, and pretty soon the stalks begin to separate, the corn gets trampled, and the path becomes so familiar and well worn that it might as well be a highway.

If I am building a highway for my thoughts (and aren’t we all?), I want it to be one that is paved with good things. The only way I know how to replace worry with peace and trust – to take anxious thoughts “captive,” if you will – is to send the cows through my cornfield armed with God’s promises.

And believe it or not, this plan really works.

Back when my worries about Robbie’s academic prowess conspired to keep me awake at night, I clung to verses like Isaiah 54:13, “All your sons will be taught by the Lord, and great will be your children’s peace.” (I know more modern Bible translations have gone gender-neutral and that this passage clearly covers “daughters,” too…but I’m kind of tied to my old 1984 NIV, especially when it comes to picking prayer promises for my boy.)

Now that I am an official Mother of the Bride, with not just one by TWO daughters getting married within a few months of each other, I have a whole new set of worries: What if it rains? What if I forget to order the cake? What if I never find an MOB dress? (If you saw my Christmas Sweater blog, you know why this is a legitimate concern.)

To all of these fears, and to countless more of the nasties that try to steal my joy, Jesus says this: “Your Father knows what you need before you ask him.” (Matthew 6:8)

And then, as if he’s had some experience with the whole wedding planning thing, he gets even more specific: “Do not worry, saying, ‘What shall we eat?’ or ‘What shall we drink?’ or ‘What shall we wear?’ For the pagans run after all these things, and your heavenly Father knows that you need them. But seek first his kingdom and his righteousness, and all these things will be given to you as well.” (Matthew 6:31-33)

Your Father knows what you need before you ask him.

If you’re looking for a good memory verse, try that one. It pretty much covers everything, from the willpower it takes to watch your roommate scarf up a cinnamon bun (sorry, Kate), to the mental gymnastics required to excise those dagnabbits from your vocabulary (you can do it, Kerry!), to a good night’s sleep with two weddings coming straight at you on the calendar, like a pair of billowing freight trains.

I’m not sure I’ll ever banish worry entirely, but as long as I keep piling the promises onto my cows (Philippians 4:8, 4:13, and 4:19 are all running loose in my cornfield right now), I know that everything will be okay.

Snow Day

02.17.2015

I’m sitting here at the computer, watching the grey skies get heavier and wondering when the first flakes will fall. They’re calling for a “big storm” and Virginia Beach is all abuzz. It doesn’t matter whether we get one inch or two, we know the drill: Shut ‘er down. School, work, exercise class…they’ll all be cancelled tomorrow. Boston, we feel your pain.

Most moms I know have already been to the grocery store, stocking up on things like hot cocoa, chocolate chip cookie fixin’s, and Duraflames. (Paul Bunyan, eat your heart out.) The kids are rooting around in their closets, trying to find two mittens that match or some snow boots that still fit, hoping – praying! – that the weatherman got it right this time. And the grandparents, well…

I can’t speak for every wise old head in town, but I know at least two who probably have their faces pressed to the window, right this minute: My mom, Claire, and her husband, John.

Last time we got snow, they sent this pic to their kids:

At first, I thought they’d been shot.

But then I noticed the boogie board, and the pieces began to fall into place. Mom and John had been sledding (boogie boards do double duty at the beach) and, eager to make the most of the white stuff, they’d moved on to snow angels. I have no idea how long they lay there like that, or which neighbor happened along to take the picture. I just know they had fun.

How do you grow up like that? I mean, how do you get to be 75 years old and still go sledding on a boogie board? How do you still own a boogie board?

As always when I confront deep theological questions like these, I turn to the Bible. Sure enough, there are more than a few tips on aging. Here’s just a sample:

Whoever would love life and see good days must keep his tongue from evil and his lips from deceitful speech. (1 Peter 3:10)

Do not forsake [wisdom’s] teaching, but keep [her] commands in your heart, for they will prolong your life many years and bring you prosperity. (Proverbs 3:1-2)

And this one, about which I will admit to having mixed emotions:

The glory of young men is their strength, gray hair the splendor of the old. (Proverbs 20:29)

Hairdresser bills notwithstanding, I’d still rather be strong than gray. But I think I’ll get working on the other two pearls, keeping my tongue from evil and storing up wisdom in my heart. Clearly, that kind of good livin’ pays off.

First, though, I’m going to whip up a batch of slice-and-bakes and light my firelog. The Pioneer Woman might have a famous blog and a cool TV show, but hey. We all do what we can, right?