Wednesday, October 30, 2013

Just Ask

Ye have not, because ye ask not. (Jas 4:2)

Seaton Garage, 1919 (
It was such a simple thing. If she had only asked me, I would have done it for free. I believe in being generous, in helping others whose lives have affected mine. 

But she didn't. 

Instead, she went out under her own power and fixed it herself. She was able to do that. There were no strings attached between us.  Yet something as simple as asking would have changed the final outcome.

God has given us this same instruction. He says, "Hey, just ask me. Believe I'm capable and willing, then ask, and I'll do it." Yet we rebel - against the God of the Universe, nonetheless - and try to fix things on our own. WHY?

It's like, instead of taking your car to the mechanic, you tinker with it on your own (or your computer or your cell phone. You get the idea.) There are people who know how it ought to work far better than you do. So use them! 

And we're talking about He, who made mankind, here. The Guy who wrote the manual. He knows every nut and bolt, every hinge and lock, every bone, muscle, and hair on your head. (Mt 10:30) He's definitely the smartest Mr. Fix-It out there.

You can't even say it's too expensive, because God's grace is given free of charge. (Rm 3:24) You can't earn it. You can't pay for it. You can't work your way toward it. You can't be good enough for it. You only have to receive it.

I saw an excellent example of receiving recently. A preacher held a key in his hand out to his wife and said, "Receive this key." You know what she did? She reached out and took hold of it. Our receiving requires us to act. We're not sitting in place, hands extended, waiting for God to drop it in our palm. No! We're taking hold of God's goodness because Jesus died and was resurrected to give this to us. (Eph 3:20) Because His grace is sufficient. (2Co 4:15;2Co 8:7;2Co 12:9) Because God said, "Ask me." (Mt 7:7;Lk 11:9)

It's so simple.

"God, I need to get my finances out of this hole. I need enough money to pay my bills with some left over to feed my children. I need enough give to the church and help the poor."

"God, I don't feel well, and you said Jesus died for my healing, so that I don't have to be in pain or suffer. You said I can have many, well days (quantity and quality of life)."

"God, I'm confused. I have decisions to make, major ones, and I need your wisdom, so that I walk in your will for my life."

Ask. Whatever it is, however small or large you think the problem, God put no qualifications on it. 

He solves everything and anything, no matter what it is, no matter where you are, no matter how low or high you think life has placed you. He's a good God whose greatest desire is to take care of His children. (Mt 7:11;Lk 11:13)

Whether it's your next storyline, your next meal, your next tank of gas, the paper cut on your pinky, God cares about you and is right here waiting, His pockets full of change, His arms full of power, His heart full of love. You only have to ask.

Therefore I say unto you, Take no thought for your life, what ye shall eat, or what ye shall drink; nor yet for your body, what ye shall put on. Is not the life more than meat, and the body than raiment? Behold the fowls of the air: for they sow not, neither do they reap, nor gather into barns; yet your heavenly Father feedeth them. Are ye not much better than they? Which of you by taking thought can add one cubit unto his stature? And why take ye thought for raiment? Consider the lilies of the field, how they grow; they toil not, neither do they spin: And yet I say unto you, That even Solomon in all his glory was not arrayed like one of these. Wherefore, if God so clothe the grass of the field, which to day is, and to morrow is cast into the oven, shall he not much more clothe you, O ye of little faith? (Matthew 6:25-30 KJV)

Suzanne D. Williams  
Suzanne Williams Photography  
Florida, USA 

Suzanne Williams is a native Floridian, wife, and mother, with a penchant for spelling anything, who happens to love photography.

Sunday, October 27, 2013

Sunday Photographs

Here's this week's 365 Project photographs. As always, if you wish to see anything you've missed, visit my Photobucket album.

Day 293, Sometimes the photos come to me
Day 293 photo 500-DSC_9174_zps4e6b7c3d.jpg

Day 294, Damselfly
Day 294 photo 500-DSC_9177_zps414a12a6.jpg

Day 295, White-eyed Vireo
Day 295 photo 500-DSC_9209_zps66b351f6.jpg

Day 296, Marigold
Day 296 photo 500-DSC_9216_zps5e6cff01.jpg

Day 297, Honeysuckle
Day 297 photo 500-DSC_9217_zps0a2bf7f8.jpg

Day 298, Water Lily
Day 298 photo 500-1-DSC_9250_zpsd1c9a71e.jpg

Day 299, Green Lynx Spider
Day 299 photo 500-DSC_9270_zps93057a33.jpg

Male Blue Dasher Dragonfly
Male Blue Dasher Dragonfly 10/22/2013 photo 500-DSC_9198_zps39eecd4a.jpg

Female Cardinal
Female Cardinal 10/22/2013 photo 500-DSC_9187_zps3c26b72f.jpg 

Suzanne D. Williams  
Suzanne Williams Photography  
Florida, USA 

Suzanne Williams is a native Floridian, wife, and mother, with a penchant for spelling anything, who happens to love photography.

Saturday, October 26, 2013

Story Saturdays - She Loves Me Anyway

I received a really nice 5-star review of GLASS this week. Zip on over to Love Buzzard's Book Reviews and take a read. Then pick up your copy at Amazon and Barnes & Noble. Only $1.99.

Also buy a copy of New ~ Jersey before the price goes up. It'll be 99 cents at Amazon for only a couple more days!

Today's excerpt comes from a YA titled, "She Loves Me Anyway." In this scene, Gabriel Allen, who's suffered a leg amputation, wants to see the girl who convinced him to try harder.


“One more time, Mr. Allen.”
Gabriel seated himself, despite Nina’s insistence, and reclined. “I’m done.”
“No, you’re not. Repetition is what works those muscles. Remember your goal. Miss Vargas said …”
He cut her off. She was forever giving him speeches. “I need a short-term goal,” he said. He could hear the thoughts in her head whizzing by.
“What did you have in mind?”
“I want to talk to Arden.”
He hadn’t seen her since that moment in the hallway, had no way to reach her either, and suddenly, her voice was important. “Call her and let me speak with her,” he said.
Nina straightened, smoothing her blouse. “I can do that,” she replied. “Then you have to try again.”
He nodded in acceptance. He hated trying, hated seeing how inept he’d become, hated the cheerful look-at-you’s spouted afterward. But liked hearing his progress reported to his mom.
Nina extracted her cell phone from her pocket and dialed. She leaned her weight on one hip. “Hey, it’s me.” She glanced at him. “You’re new boyfriend wants to speak with you.”
He resisted the urge to laugh at Nina’s sarcasm, mostly because she was half-serious. She passed him the phone, and he pressed it to his ear. “Hello?”
“Hey, Nina sounds frustrated.”
The smile he’d tried to hide came flooding out at the sound of her voice.
“She is, and it’s my fault. I’m intractable.”
That was the word she’d used at his last session. You’re trying my patience, she’d complained. I’ve never seen anyone so intractable. That must mean a lot coming from her. She seemed willing to tolerate just about anything. He gazed at the therapist, aware she was listening.
“Why?” Arden asked.
He shrugged, though she couldn’t see it. “I’m angry, I guess.”
“At yourself?”
“Myself, my friends.” They all avoided him now, except for Irving. He’d been around and acted normal. “My parents for coddling me,” he continued. “Nina for making me do this again and again. You …”
“Me? What did I do?” She said it playfully.
“I haven’t seen you. I want to see you.”
Why that had become so important was a mystery to him, but it was.
“That’s sweet. I can come on Friday.”
“Friday?” Friday was two days from now. Too long.
Arden laughed into the phone. “You sound disappointed.”
He turned his head away from Nina’s persistent gaze. “Because I am. I want to see you today. You could … could come to my house.”
“Come to your house?”
“Yeah.” He said it wistful. She wouldn’t come to his house. She’d only agreed to the date to make him feel better, he knew that. But it meant something to him, and he intended to keep it.
“Tell you what,” she said. “You have a cell?”
One he didn’t much use, not having anything to say anymore.
“Get my number from Nina and text me the address. I’ll come around seven. That okay?”
“Y-you will?” He sounded childish, his voice hopeful. Pathetic. Yet his heart beat harder. If she’d actually come––
“Sure. But this isn’t our date,” she said.
“I … I know that.”
“Good. Talk to you later, Gabe.”
He hung up the phone and returned it to Nina’s palm.
“You happy now?” she asked.
He nodded, sharp. Happy was relative. “You’re supposed to give me her number. I have to text her.”
“Okay, but after you repeat the exercise one more time.”
He frowned. “I’m gonna change your name to Helga the Horrible. Seems fitting.”
She reached for him, lifting him from the chair. “Call me anything you like, so long as it gets you out of that chair.”
But getting out of the chair was only a means to an end – that of walking hand-in-hand with a girl who didn’t care half of him was missing.

Suzanne D. Williams  
Suzanne Williams Photography  
Florida, USA 

Suzanne Williams is a native Floridian, wife, and mother, with a penchant for spelling anything, who happens to love photography.

Wednesday, October 23, 2013

Something To Believe In
I stared down at the book description unable to believe my eyes. "Were Jesus' miracles done through the power of mental suggestion?"

Mental suggestion?

Are you, oh, new age, humanist man, still beating that dead horse? Will you really try to explain away the unexplainable, the incomprehensible, the indescribable?


Where is faith in the unbelievable without the element of unknown involved? (Heb 11:3) Do we want to worship what we can see and hear and touch? Jesus said to Thomas, "Blessed are they, who have not seen, and yet believed." (Jn 20:29)

The centurion saw nothing. In fact, he implored Jesus not to come, saying, "If you say my servant's healed, then he is." (Mt 8:8) Where in that was the power of mental suggestion? Where was it, when the centurion came home to find the servant had been healed the very instant Jesus spoke those words? (Mt 8:13)

Where was mental suggestion with the leper? When he went before the priest, did the priest say, "Oh, yes, I've seen this all before. You simply think you're healed, but look close, your leprosy's still there." (Mk 1:42)

Did Jesus suggest the three friends lower the man with the palsy before him on the mat? Did He suggest the man get up and walk? (Jn 5:8) And what of the women taken in adultery? Was her forgiveness mere suggestion? (Jn 8:11) Or the woman with the issue of blood? (Mk 5:34) Or the demoniac who beat himself with stones? (Mk 5:19) Did Jesus make water into wine by suggesting it happen? (Jn 2:11)

Are we in our finite mind trying to fashion an infinite God out of stone? Or are you really willing to believe God raised Jesus from the dead?

Because that's what it comes down to. The apostle Paul pointed this out to the Corinthian church. He said, "If Christ didn't rise from the dead, then all I've told you is a lie. But the fact is, He did, and I'm not." (1Co 15:12,20)

Give me something to believe in, people!  

Give me a God who's greater than all this. Give me a God who loves the unlovely, heals the incurable, calms the storm! Give me a God who can form the earth with the power of His word, cause a virgin to conceive the Savior of the world, and forgive every sin any man will ever do at any time.

Give me that God! Not one with smooth words and powerful talk. (1Co 2:4) But one with the very glory of heaven in His hands.Give me God who I can turn to and say, "I need you. Fix this," and Him reply, "I've got it. Relax."

"I'm broke. I can't pay my bills."
"I'll handle it. Breathe easy."

"My daughter's struggling. I don't know what to do."
"Believe. Pray. And I'll take care of her."

"I don't want to live in this old, worn down house anymore."
"Just you wait. I've got bigger, better things ahead."

Give me that kind of God. Make Him greater and higher and bigger and better and more and abundant and all things and everything. Blow my mind with the size of Him, the goodness of Him, the amazing things He'll do for me.

Then raise your hands with mine and say, "Holy Father, you're worthy to receive glory and honor and praise." Why? Because nothing about it was left up to suggestion. It was all Him all along.

Suzanne D. Williams  
Suzanne Williams Photography  
Florida, USA 

Suzanne Williams is a native Floridian, wife, and mother, with a penchant for spelling anything, who happens to love photography.

Sunday, October 20, 2013

Sunday Photographs

Here's this week's 365 Project photographs. As always, if you wish to see anything you've missed, visit my Photobucket album.

Day 286, Wasp on Goldenrod
Day 286 photo 500-DSC_9031_zps0900032d.jpg

Day 287, Woodpecker
Watch a Video, ">here.
Day 287 photo 500-DSC_9072_zps2d9baa87.jpg

Day 288, Flowering Maple
Day 288 photo 500-DSC_9076_zpsd52596c1.jpg

Day 289, Twilight and the Moon
Day 289 photo 500-DSC_9090_zpsca24e47a.jpg

Day 290, Goldenrod and Pines
Day 290 photo 500-DSC_9102_zps64a7765f.jpg

Day 291, Mexican Sunflower
Day 291 photo 500-DSC_9127_zpsce080342.jpg

Day 292, Sulfur Butterfly Caterpillar
Day 292 photo 500-DSC_9139_zps7b99c983.jpg


Suzanne D. Williams  
Suzanne Williams Photography  
Florida, USA 

Suzanne Williams is a native Floridian, wife, and mother, with a penchant for spelling anything, who happens to love photography.

Saturday, October 19, 2013

Story Saturdays - Wings

Don't forget to pick up your copy of my Halloween alternative story, GLASS. A creepy house. A beautiful woman. A man of faith. Available at Amazon and Barnes & Noble. Only $1.99.

Today's excerpt comes from an paranormal romance I'm working on titled, WINGS. It's an allegorical story about a girl set apart from the world by the power of God's Light in her. I plan to release this story in time for Easter 2014.

Angus Finlay, a boy Sara Benedict met at school, has more and more become integral in the task God has sent her to do. He doesn't have her calling or her faith, but is receptive to the gospel and the truth behind the things he's already seen her do.

In this scene, Sara has risen at dawn to worship, as she does every day, rain or shine, and takes Angus along to view it.


“We must go,” she said. She waited for him only long enough to rouse her brother and for them both to find shoes, then turned, unspeaking, and left the room.
Angus followed along behind her, Campbell at his back, and was surprised when she opened the back door. The darkness was enveloped in a thick fog, cloying dampness making each inhalation challenging. Yet Sara pushed ahead, fading from view.
For a moment, he wondered exactly what he was doing. Then Campbell’s hand on his shoulder steered him further across the dew-laden soil into an open field. Despite the fog, he could see it was a large area, acres and acres of grass with what must be pine trees on the horizon. The remaining night stars glimmered overhead.
Campbell pulled him to a halt and nodded her direction. “Watch,” he said.
Watch what? Sara’s slim silhouette stood barely visible against the midnight blue sky. She halted ahead and stretched out her arms to either side, turning her palms upward. At this motion, the sky flashed, as if the stars acknowledged her presence.
Angus glanced upward. Had he really seen that?
But at the sound of her voice, it came again. They blinked in a wave, a kaleidoscope of color from east to west that grew in brilliance to a shade of Light he’d never seen before, and her words intensified, words similar to those she’d spoken over Mrs. Butler, yet somehow not alike at all. These were singular, each one more crucial than the last.
She lifted her arms higher and the stars seemed to bow toward the horizon, where a thread of Light came, Light in that same unearthly shade. It sought her out, stretching its rays in the darkness solely to her face, and in that instant, she changed. No longer was she a girl in blue jeans and a t-shirt, but a glowing orb of pure, heavenly brilliance.
Her song ceased and she lifted as it were from the earth, her feet not touching the ground, to not a great height, perhaps ten feet or so, but one not suspended or held by anything. And the Light spread a beam, stretching, reaching through her toward him, and smacked him full in the face. Fire raced over his limbs, not as heat, but incredible power. The same he’d felt from her hands at school only stronger. He crumpled beneath the strength of it, his body sagging to the earth, his face laid flat against the ground, and a shape walked across the space between them.
It paused before him, a man, but a man greater than other men. Waving one arm outward, his commanding voice said, “Look and believe.”
Unable to turn his head anywhere else, Angus followed the gesture to that of a tomb, a space blocked by a stone. It was the edge of dawn, and walking toward the tomb were two women, both wearing long gowns and head coverings. As they neared, an earthquake came, the ground vibrating, quivering, and Light split from the tomb, its color bleached white. Then the stone rolled away, without hands, without any effort at all, and a man emerged.
He sat upon the stone, his eyes shooting sparks, his face too dazzling almost to look upon, and he spoke to the women. “Fear not. You seek Jesus, which was crucified. He is not here: for he is risen, as He said.”
The vision ceased and the Man who’d spoken was hidden by a column of cloud, obscuring the surroundings, then dissipating in the air. The power that had held him down lifted, and Angus peeled himself from the soil. 
Sara knelt before him, dressed in white. She laid a hand to either side of his face.Her touch was light, gentle, and he felt no fear. He glanced behind, but Campbell was gone. “Your brother …”
“Hush,” she said. “And watch, for the dawn comes.”
He raised his eyes to the sky and the sun slipped over the horizon, a million shades of color embracing the land, and Sara became a girl again. She was soaked to the skin, her hair stuck to her cheeks, her clothing sodden.
She took his hand, and the power which had flowed between them flowed once again. He stared down at it. “I don’t understand.”
“Come,” she said. “We’ll go indoors, and I’ll attempt to explain.”

Suzanne D. Williams  
Suzanne Williams Photography  
Florida, USA 

Suzanne Williams is a native Floridian, wife, and mother, with a penchant for spelling anything, who happens to love photography.

Wednesday, October 16, 2013

Not Him

Not her, she's too old.

Not him, he's from the wrong side of town.

Not that couple, their skin's the wrong color.

Not that guy because I met his mom and you should have heard how she talked.

Not that teenager. I saw where she lived once. Girl, let me tell you ...

Not the boy over there either. He's ... well, let me put it this way ... not that smart.

Not him. He has a tattoo.

Not her. She wears skirts a little too short. Or that kid in black, because he plays video games. Or them, they like foreign cartoons.

But now that couple. They're perfect. Clean. Employed. Decent.

Jesus came to save the lost, my friend, not the middle class. He spoke to the lowest of the low, the doctors, the lawyers, the homeless. He saved a woman taken in adultery, a tax collector, a man filled with demons.

He judged not, condemned not, never turned a blind eye. He didn't cross the street to the other side, holding his nose. But walked in the filth, the rejection, the utter hopelessness of the prostitute, the drug addict, the man so wealthy he couldn't let go.

He became an Outcast, so that we could become a Member. He became forsaken, so that we could become Accepted. He took on the weight of a world of sin and risked separation from His Father, so that we could experience the Life we were too blind right then to see.

Still are, most days.

He gave ALL, so that we could receive ALL. So the cripple could walk again. So the deaf could hear again. So the mentally ill could experience freedom and peace. So the hurting need never hurt again. He came to bind up the wounds, remove the ache, and place man in a position of authority over the works of the enemy, where he can live abundantly above all he could ever ask or think. (Ps 147:3;Lk 10:19;Eph 3:20)

Think of that next time you decide God can't use someone else.

And it came to pass, as Jesus sat at meat in the house, behold, many publicans and sinners came and sat down with him and his disciples. And when the Pharisees saw it, they said unto his disciples, Why eateth your Master with publicans and sinners? But when Jesus heard that, he said unto them, They that be whole need not a physician, but they that are sick. But go ye and learn what that meaneth, I will have mercy, and not sacrifice: for I am not come to call the righteous, but sinners to repentance. (Mt 9:10-13)

Suzanne D. Williams  
Suzanne Williams Photography  
Florida, USA 

Suzanne Williams is a native Floridian, wife, and mother, with a penchant for spelling anything, who happens to love photography.

Sunday, October 13, 2013

Sunday Photographs

Here's this week's 365 Project photographs. As always, if you wish to see anything you've missed, visit my Photobucket album.

Day 279, Goldenrod
Day 279 photo 500-DSC_8869_zpsbed423bf.jpg

Day 280, Rainbow
Day 280 photo 500-DSC_8903_zpsb1a85fb6.jpg

Day 281, Web
Day 281 photo 500-DSC_8914_zps36d7f7b9.jpg

Day 282, Green Lynx Spider with Egg Sac
Day 282 photo 500-DSC_8942_zps79e1d5ee.jpg

Day 283, Afternoon Light
Day 283 photo 500-DSC_8944_zps958ae57a.jpg

Day 284, Goldenrod
Day 284 photo 500-DSC_8977_zpsa778c3c6.jpg

Day 285, Green Tree Frog
Day 285 photo 500-DSC_8993_zps0a7e3b98.jpg

Suzanne D. Williams  
Suzanne Williams Photography  
Florida, USA 

Suzanne Williams is a native Floridian, wife, and mother, with a penchant for spelling anything, who happens to love photography.

Saturday, October 12, 2013

Story Saturdays - All About Romeo

I must share a couple things about my Halloween-alternative story, GLASS. It was featured this week on Laura J. Marshall's blog. Enter to win a $25.00 Amazon gift card. Time's running out, so do it quick! Also, The Examiner gave it an excellent review earlier in the week as well as Debbie Curto's blog. Five stars from both!

Today's excerpt comes from a future YA titled, "All About Romeo." Meet Aaron Loving. Mr. Charm. Or as Aven Modell calls him, Mr. Irritating. In this opening scene, he and Aven are locked in a closet for a party game, which she's not too interested in doing.

He was the worst boy in school, town, America, the planet, and I was stuck with him. To play Seven Minutes In Heaven nonetheless. Heaven. Right. It was more like lying flat in a fire ant bed naked while chewing unsweetened licorice. Bleh.
He wasn’t bad looking. If I screwed my eyes up real tight and pretended he wasn’t as annoying as heck, that is. But he was. So faced with wasting … literally wasting … seven whole minutes with the resident pest I contemplated either scratching my eyes out or preferably, gouging his.
Gouging his would be way more entertaining because I could start by yanking those reflective-lens glasses from his head and breaking them into tiny pieces. Then I’d feed them to him, one sharp, pointed piece at a time. He’d have to look me in the eye while I did it, too, and I’d laugh – one of those evil villain laughs.
As it was, here we were, luck of the draw thrown together, and Kaitlyn standing there holding the door. “Okay, you two. Enjoy.”
Did she just imply there was enjoyment in the same room as Aaron Loving? She was crazy.
She was lucky. She didn’t have to do it. She’d drawn Logan Boyd. I would personally bare myself for Logan Boyd and consign my soul to Hades. He was that hot.
But as it was, in I went, Aaron’s hamburger-laden breath creeping down my spine. I pushed through the clothes dangling all around to the farthest point I could find and wedged myself in between the two sides of the wall, the corner to my back.
And shrieked when he touched me.
He laughed. “Gees, Aven, you’re jumpy.”
Gees, Aaron, you’re a nuisance.
“Why are you way over there? We’re supposed to make out.”
“Says who?”
“The rules. Haven’t you played this before?”
Yeah, I routinely climbed in closets with boys. I was a promiscuous closeteer.
“Who’s going to know if we do or don’t,” I asked. Let’s not and say we did.
“I’m going to know, and if you don’t emerge blinded by my presence, the world will know.”
“Seriously, Aaron?”
His fingers touched my arm, crawling up my sleeve, and I shrunk back. If he noticed, he didn’t say so, but instead, crept closer. I could smell his breath again and taste vomit in my throat.
“I can’t,” I said.
He paused, his hand now firm around my arm. “Didn’t figure you for the jittery type.”
How to tell a boy that I thought he was gross?
“Not jittery …” Repulsed. I inhaled the word.
As much as I disliked him, it wasn’t in me to say so outright. I hated making enemies, even ones like Aaron, and really, he was more aggravating than anything else, and definitely not hateful. He had friends and he’d dated once, I think. But Aaron was so full of things about Aaron that if he had any charm, I couldn’t see it.
“I need some build up to this,” I said. A delay tactic. If I could just delay for seven minutes, then I’d get out of this without doing whatever it was he had in his head to do.
“Build up?” he asked.
“Yeah, you can’t just walk up to a girl and kiss her. You have to romance her first.”
I heard him shuffling around then suddenly, he was beside me. Like right beside-right beside, his leg against mine, his shoulder pressed against me. His hand had moved to my face, and he cupped my cheek.
Here’s where he spouted some poem, something that surprised me he’d know it. But no. He was a boy, and he was Aaron. So instead, he started talking about the one thing he knew the best – himself.
“I have great lips.”
“I wouldn’t know.”
He laughed at that. “I can prove it.”
“That’s build up?” I asked. “Try a compliment if that’s not too hard.”
“Like what? You have great skin. Let me taste it and I’ll know for sure.”
I half-groaned. “Don’t tell me you have more of those.” Bad pickup lines, I meant. I could feel his grin in the darkness.
“If I walked around you seven times, would you fall for me?” he asked.
I laughed. I actually laughed and could have slapped myself for it, because he took that for some sort of acceptance and brought my lips to his. He didn’t do chaste either. Oh, no, this was a mind-bending, tongue-reaching face grapple that dang it if I didn’t respond.
Seriously, who knew that Mr. Infuriating could kiss like that?
I was out of breath, hot and bothered, and aware of parts of me I’d never noticed before by the time he was done. I raised a hand to my mouth thinking to feel if it was still there and bumped his chin, which brought him back in, only this time he went slow. He lingered, as if we were sealed together with caramel and he had to lick every bit of it off.
I heated to a volcanic level, finally erupting by putting my hands on his chest. “Aaron …” I shoved him away.
“That was amazing,” he said. “We’ve got it going, Baby.”
I frowned. He couldn’t see it, but I was hoping the vibe would communicate. It didn’t.
“Give me your number.”
“So you can, what? Come over and suck face with me?”
“Suck face. Lick your ear lobe. Whatever you like.”
A knock on the door sent my heart thudding in my chest.
“One minute,” Kaitlyn called.
“Please,” Aaron begged. “Anyone who can kiss like that I have to be with.”
Be with? Me and Aaron Loving? Laughable.
“Listen. The only thing … the only thing,” I repeated the phrase. “The only thing we have going for us is kissing. I’m not even sure I like you.”
He leaned in, his mouth right over mine, a temptation stronger than a chocolate bar to a girl going through that time of the month.
“Oh, you like me,” he said.
And the door opened. I shot out like a squeeze tube of jelly.

Suzanne D. Williams  
Suzanne Williams Photography  
Florida, USA 

Suzanne Williams is a native Floridian, wife, and mother, with a penchant for spelling anything, who happens to love photography.

Wednesday, October 9, 2013

Sit Down and Shut Up

I was hot under the collar. Deep in emotional overdrive.

The neighbor’s dogs ate my shoes, right off my front porch. On the way to work, I was sandwiched into a third lane of a two-lane drive through at McDonald’s.  Yeah, that won’t work. Add to that the hormones of a forty-something woman, and it was a recipe for an explosion.

I was sick and tired of it, not tolerating any more, putting my foot down. Had enough. Finished. Done. Get out of my way. Stay off of my path.

Don’t mess with me.

Why can’t we take that feeling and apply when it comes to the devil? The Word of God is clear. Jesus said, “And these signs shall follow them that believe; In my name shall they cast out devils.” (Mk 16:17) And again, “Behold, I give unto you power to tread on serpents and scorpions, and over all the power of the enemy: and nothing shall by any means hurt you.”

Did Jesus defeat the devil or not? The Bible says He did. (Col 2:15) So why do we sit around moaning and groaning, “Poor ol’ me,” when a good kick in the seat of the pants is in order?

Put on your boots and give Satan the heave-ho.

“I’ve had enough, no thanks. Take your paws off my finances, my children, my health, my peace of mind, my car, my trip to work, my shoes on the front porch.”

Yeah, those, too. Because God cares about every part of you, everything that’s yours, everywhere you’re going to be, everyone your life is going to touch, and His ultimate desire is for you to have the best of the very best each and every day. (Jer 29:11) He said so Himself.

Therefore, stop sitting around tolerating half-baked, half-as-good, water-down Christianity and adjust your armor. Take out the Sword of the Spirit and use it, for once. It’s a weapon, not an ornament. It’s not there to make you look pretty, but to help you slice your way through the thick of things.

Do like Jesus did. Say, “It is written, devil, so sit down, shut up, and go home.” (Mt 4:4,7,10)

Sick Of It by Skillet

When everything you do
Don't seem to matter.
You try but it's no use
Your world is getting blacker.

When every time you fail
Has no answer.
Every empty promise made
Is a reminder.

No one can make this better
Take control, it's now or never!

Are you sick of it?
Raise your hands,
Get rid of it!
While there's a fighting chance.
Are you over it?
Bored to death?
Have you had enough regret?
Take a stand, raise your hands...

Suzanne D. Williams  
Suzanne Williams Photography  
Florida, USA 

Suzanne Williams is a native Floridian, wife, and mother, with a penchant for spelling anything, who happens to love photography.

Tuesday, October 8, 2013

Grace Awards Summer Launch

B.J. Robinson

Magnolia June Russell is a small-town Louisiana strawberry farmer determined to have a career besides the berry farm, despite her mother's advice that she doesn't need more education to run a farm.

Andy Allen is a strawberry inspector at the local bureau. He has to convince June's mother that he can be the son she's never had, since she's decided a local strawberry inspector isn't good enough for her daughter. Andy is going to have to change her mother's mind in more ways than one if their relationship is to survive. Can he persuade June that there is more to their relationship than friends?

Together, they both face the issue of superstitions, an April flood, and conflict after conflict. Will they ever convince Miss. Myrtle to let go of superstitions, or will she stubbornly cling to them just like she vows she'll never fly on those big-winged mechanical birds because man ain't got no business messing with God's plans?

Can love survive the obstacle course placed in their path--an accident, escaped convicts, Andy missing in a Louisiana swamp? Can two determined young people overcome each obstacle with belief, faith, hard work and the power of prayer?

Laura J. Marshall

Christian Historical Romance Novella set in 1746, India

Born in England and raised in India by her father after her mother's untimely death, Asyra has been ostracized from her small village most of her life. News of her impending marriage arranged by her grandmother back in England only serves to confuse her further about who she is and where she fits in. When Madras is attacked by the French before Asyra's ship sails, she must pretend to be the wife of her grandmother's agent, who happens to be the elder brother of her intended. Can she move beyond prejudice to find her place in the world?

Tammy A. Doherty

When widow Abby Finnegan meets ranch hand Kyle Lachapelle, she figures he’s as deceitful as her family. But Kyle is a Secret Service operative working undercover, and Abby has a disturbing connection to his counterfeiting case. Abby’s protecting her heart while Kyle can’t afford the feelings stirring in his. Love is out of the question…or is it the answer? 

Suzanne D. Williams  
Suzanne Williams Photography  
Florida, USA 

Suzanne Williams is a native Floridian, wife, and mother, with a penchant for spelling anything, who happens to love photography.

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