Devotionals for the Heart: You are a masterpiece created by God!

God’s Masterpieces

A devotional by Karen Marstaller

“For we are His workmanship, created by Christ Jesus for good works, which God prepared beforehand, that we should walk in them.” –Ephesians 2:10 (ESV)

When I was young, my Grandma taught me how to Cross-stitch.

She was an expert with a needle and embroidery thread, and I spent happy hours going through her thread box, choosing colors, and then learning how to make beautiful stitches. Her handwork was exquisite and every time I look at an art piece that she created, I’m reminded of the Great Craftsman of my life.

In Ephesians, Paul teaches us to walk in Christ. He reminds us of our beginning—we are God’s workmanship, His handiwork. As we take a close look at our hearts, we see some characteristics that really don’t remind us of the Lord’s creative genius, and yet the psalmist proclaims in Psalm 139 that we are “fearfully and wonderfully made.” Every fiber of our being was deliberately and intricately designed by the Author of life. Even when we sin, He knows our every thought, and He remembers why He created us. On top of that, He forgives us when we ask Him, and He sets us back on the good path He’s chosen for us.

As our Savior, Christ Jesus created us for good works. These aren’t the petty little deeds we do in hopes of receiving a pat on the back from other people. Good works are actions of the heart, created by the Lord and presented to God as sacrifices to glorify Him. We don’t need to win a Nobel Prize or some great humanitarian award—we simply love our neighbors as we love God. If we show God’s love and mercy to those we meet, then we’re on the road to completing that for which He’s made us. With an open heart to serve others in humility, we obey our Lord’s commandment. Loving others like we love the Lord is our highest calling, and He sees our hearts.

Before we were even born, God set His plan in motion. His design is for us to be the lovely canvas where His perfect plan blossoms. In His hands, our lives make sense. Even when we’re heartsore and afraid to hear the latest pandemic reports, we turn our eyes to Jesus and are comforted by His words, “You are My workmanship, and I have something good for you to do.”

How do we know what to do? The best answer I’ve heard these past few months is, “Do the next right thing.” Choosing to serve the Lord by serving our brother is always the “next right thing.” We have a divine responsibility to lavish good on our fellow sojourners. We’re all His workmanship! It’s time for us to act like we understand what it means to be His creation, and His handiwork.

It doesn’t matter if we’re from French Guiana, Canada, or Brazil, just as it doesn’t matter if we hail from Indiana, Georgia, or Oregon. What matters is that we’re a product of God’s own heart. Every one of us is His design. We’re exactly as He created us to be, and the beautiful thing about God is that He always sees what He plans. What if my life doesn’t look like it’s going according to plan? Not to worry. A repentant heart brings us right back into His perfect place, and His perfect peace. With good works for us to do with our next step, or with our next breath, we reach for His hand. Our Good Father always knows the way. We trust in Him.

In our living room, a framed counted cross-stitch holds a prominent place. In the center of the shadow box, it says, “His Name is Jesus,” and around the sides are the many names by which our Lord is called.

Every time I look at the beautiful handwork, I’m grateful for the connections I have to my friend who embroidered it, my grandma who taught me to appreciate hand crafted art, and especially, to my Wonderful Savior who created me for His good works. Contemporary Christian music artist Steve Green sings this beautiful song based on Philippians 1:6 (ESV) where the Lord says, “He who began a good work in you will bring it to completion at the day of Christ Jesus.” Listen to the song on YouTube for free! Here's the hyperlink.

What an astounding privilege it is to be one of the myriad colors of thread in His great creative work. Hallelujah! Thank You, Heavenly Father (God)!

~*~
Author Bio:

During this time of quarantine, Karen enjoys reading, writing, and connecting with friends and family via phone calls, texts, emails, blogs, live-streams, and video conferencing. 

She is grateful that the Lord has provided so many ways for humankind to stay in community, even when we are all hunkering down in our homes.

Karen says, “In this unprecedented time, we know that He has prepared us for such a time as this! To God be all the glory!”

You can reach Karen by emailing her at this address: klmarstaller@gmail.com

Devotionals for the Heart: Stories from real-life that show how prayer works!

Prayer Works!
A devotional by Chaplain Paul Anderson

“Is anyone among you sick? Let them call the elders of the church to pray over them and anoint them with oil in the name of the Lord. And the prayer offered in faith will make the sick person well; the Lord will raise them up. If they have sinned, they will be forgiven.”
– James 5:14-15 (NIV)

My parents taught me to pray when I was a child. The family rituals included prayer. It was a part of our daily rhythm: Grace before meals. Family prayer before we parted in the morning. We prayed in family worship. We prayed before eating dinner and before the television came on. As children, we said our individual prayers before climbing into bed.

Prayer, Bible stories and later, Bible studies, were woven into the fabric of my life.

I witnessed the transforming power of prayer in two pivotal moments of my life. I credit my son with teaching the power of Psalm 50:15 and a Pakistani woman for revealing the faith described in James 5:14-15.

I used to drive a red Toyota Celica. I loved that car. I tended to it well. Regular oil changes, precise detailing several times a year. One day, I was changing the brakes on all four wheels. The car was on jack stands. All four wheels were off of the vehicle, strategically placed for safety.

My son and his friend had come around to see what I was doing. I noticed a few minutes later that they were joyously throwing rocks at the tree in the front yard. When I had finished installing the brake pads and was ready to put the wheels on, it occurred to me that the boys had not been throwing rocks. They had thrown my lug nuts all over the yard, 20 of them.

Infuriated, I called him over. I heard myself yelling at him. I remember saying, “You better pray that you find every one of those lug nuts for my wheels or…”

A few minutes later, I was aghast when I saw my son and his friend kneeling on the porch praying that they could find each one of those “thingys that Daddy needs for his car.”

Chagrined, but now concerned for their concept of God, I knelt by the car and asked God to help them find each one as well. If they didn’t find them, they might lose faith in God and be afraid of me.

They found them all in a short span of time. When they brought me the last one, I said let’s thank Jesus for helping you to find them. We prayed. Then my son said words that I shall never forget. He said, “Daddy you seemed surprised that we found them. You always told me to pray when I was scared or when I needed something. I was scared that you would spank me and God answered my prayer. I knew that He would.”

The second transformational moment happened while I was the Pastor at my fourth church. My office phone rang. I picked it up and said, “This is Pastor Anderson. How may I help you today?” A woman with a thick accent said “Pastor, my son, five years old, is sick. He has a high fever and we need you to come and pray for him.” In retrospect, my answer was faithless. I said, “If he has a high fever you should bathe him in tepid water. If that does not work, please take him to the hospital.”

Her response was full of faith and a little impertinence. She said “Pastor, we are simply following the word of God, first, like we do in my home country. Will you come, or shall I call another pastor?” Chastised, I asked for the address.

Upon arrival, the child’s Aunt greeted me at the door. I asked where the child was. I wanted to pray quickly so that they could get him to the hospital. The aunt told me that it was their culture that when a new guest comes to the house, we must have tea and cookies. Frankly, I was incredulous, but, providentially, I understood and did not resist. Conversation, tea and a few cookies later, I again inquired about the child. By now the mother had emerged and said that he was sleeping but still hot. With urgency, I suggested that we pray for him now.

I was ushered into the room where the boy lay sweating and appeared unconscious rather than asleep. I was concerned. I touched him and knew that his fever was too high. I pulled out my vial of oil. I anointed him and prayed that God would break the fever and restore vitality to the child. I prayed that he would be mentally sound and able to move and breathe without difficulty. After I said “Amen,” his mother dabbed at his head with a moist towel.

I suggested that they take him to the nearest hospital. They demurred. Perhaps there were issues, financial or legal that precluded them going to the hospital. The mother said to me, “Pastor you must have some more tea and cookies before you go.” I understood that as a cultural imperative. So I obeyed her demand. A few minutes after I sat down for another cup of tea, the little boy came walking out of the bedroom. He looked normal and focused. His mother ran over to him and hugged him. She felt his head and chest and fell to her knees thanking God for healing her son.

After the ecstatic prayer, the little boy said that he was hungry. His mother brought him to the table and gave him some cookies. It was then that the little boy looked up at me. He said, “Are you the man who prayed for me?” I said, “Yes, I am.” He knelt beside me and said, “Thank you, Jesus, for sending your prophet to pray for me like Elijah did for that little boy in the Bible. Amen.”

Tears were in my eyes. This little boy and his family had faith superior to my own, at the time.

Prayer works! Try it! Practice it! See how it works!

Make prayer your first line of defense when life happens.

~*~
Author Bio:

Chaplain Anderson served for 20 years as a U.S. Navy Chaplain. Over 26 years of active duty, he was promoted through the ranks from Seaman Apprentice (E2) to his final rank as Commander (O5) in the Chaplain’s Corps.

Prior to his Naval career, Chaplain Anderson pastored in the Allegheny East and Potomac Conferences of Seventh-day Adventists. His undergraduate preparation for ministry was completed at Columbia Union College (WAU) in Takoma Park, Maryland. He has subsequently earned four graduate degrees–a Master of Divinity from Andrews University in Berrien Springs, Michigan, a Master of Education in Counseling and Personnel Services from the University of Maryland in College Park, Maryland and a Masters of Sacred Theology in Religion and Culture from Boston University. His Doctor of Ministry degree was conferred by Wesley Theological Seminary in Washington, D.C.

Chaplain Anderson also completed four units of Clinical Pastoral Education at Walter Reed Army Medical Center. He also holds certifications in Suicide Awareness and Prevention, Civil Mediation, Alternative Workplace Dispute Resolution, Temperament Analysis, Marriage Enrichment, Workforce Diversity, and is a certified Life Coach.

Devotional by Laura Thomas: Queen Esther and An Invitation

Invited
A devotional written by Laura Thomas

When Queen Esther made the decision to come before the King uninvited, she literally risked her life. As dramatic as it sounds, it was a reality, and one she did not take lightly.

“…any man or woman who approaches the king in the inner court without being summoned the king has but one law: that they be put to death unless the king extends the gold scepter to them and spares their lives….” ~Esther 4:11 (NIV)

Esther knew she had to be in the right headspace and heart space to go through with the ordeal, culminating in either an audience with her royal husband or meeting her Maker. She carried the heavy burden of knowing the Jewish race was about to be slaughtered, annihilated, wiped off the face of the earth, and there was a chance that she could make a difference. She could save the lives of a nation.

On hearing about the dire situation facing her people, Esther informed her dear cousin Mordecai to instruct the Jews in the area to fast for three days. She would do likewise with her maids—no food or drink for three full days.

When it was time for her to go before the King, she dressed to the nines in her royal robes, even though she must have felt horribly weak physically, and she presented herself, uninvited, in the royal court. I can only imagine how beautiful that gold scepter must have appeared when the King extended it her way and invited her in.

At this point, I’m pretty sure I would have exhaled in sheer relief and simply blurted out the whole story of wicked Haman plotting to wipe out the Jews. Get it over with. But Esther procrastinated her plea to the King—she asked if he and Haman might join her for a banquet. Cool, calm, and confident Esther. She followed God’s guidance in complete obedience, and knew she had to be cautious even in her courage.

There’s more—at the banquet, clearly the King was in an awesome mood because he offered her up to half the kingdom! This would have been the time to spill the beans on Haman’s plan. Yet Esther requested that they come to another banquet the following day, where she would make her plea known. Intrigued by her beauty and wit, the King agreed. As a fly on the palace wall, I would have been a nervous wreck watching this transpire—the King could easily have become frustrated and enraged. Esther was not yet safe.

But she trusted.

Esther spent three intense days fasting and drawing close to the Father’s heart, seeking His will and guidance in this horrific situation. She knew she was unable to face her husband and tell him of Haman’s schemes in her own strength or her own timing. There was too much at stake to risk being ignorant or arrogant. She sought after God and He heard her.

How blessed we are today as God’s children to come before The King of Kings with confidence and boldness! We don’t have to wait and guess the mood of our King, whether He will want to accept us and hear us. Because of Jesus Christ’s sacrifice, we are invited.

“Let us then approach God’s throne of grace with confidence, so that we may receive mercy and find grace to help us in our time of need.”~ Hebrews 4:16 (NIV)

Esther’s plan worked out perfectly in the end—she bided her time and petitioned the King at just the right moment with just the right words. God used her and spoke through her in a mighty way. As a result of Esther’s obedience and longing to do God’s will, evil Haman was hanged and the Jews were saved.

Does it make you wonder what God might do through us when we seek after Him wholeheartedly, spend time listening for His voice, and then act in obedience like lovely Esther? We are invited to approach His throne today to “find grace to help us in our time of need.” And that, my friend, is the most prestigious invitation imaginable!

~*~
Author bio:

Laura is a published Christian author with a heart for inspiring and encouraging readers of all ages. 

She is truly multi-genre—with a published Christian teen fiction trilogy, marriage book, children’s stories, devotionals for Union Gospel Press, musings on her blog, and she now has a literary agent representing her Christian romantic suspense novel.

Laura is English and Canadian, married to her high school sweetheart, mom of three, passionate about faith and family…and chocolate!
~*~
Connect with Laura:
Website - www.laurathomasauthor.com
Facebook - https://www.facebook.com/Laura-Thomas-183771121724664/?ref=hl
Twitter - https://twitter.com/laura_thomas_
Instagram - https://www.instagram.com/lauracthomas/
Pinterest - https://www.pinterest.com/lauracthomas/

Devotional by Mary Manners: Joy-filled Traditions

Join me in welcoming our dear friend Mary Manners to the blog today! She's here to share her thoughts on family-based traditions that bring her joy. I hope that this devotional will bring joy to you! I know that it brought a smile to my face.

If you talk to God, please remember Mary and her family in your prayers. 

God bless you!

~*~
Joy-filled Traditions
A devotional written by Mary Manners

“How wonderful it must be to speak the language of the angels, with no words for hate and a million words for love!” 

~ Quoted in The Angels' Little Instruction Book by Eileen Elias Freeman, 1994 ~

Traditions are the vines that connect family memories and lives. The older I get, the more I reflect on the traditions of my childhood, joyfully instilled with the love of my parents. I’m not talking so much about the big events but more about those little things that lay nestled in my heart like bountiful spoonfuls of warm chicken noodle soup.

For example, on each of my birthdays Mom always spent the better part of the morning elbow-deep in sifted flour and eggs as she lovingly prepared a double-chocolate cake layered with vanilla pudding and chocolate chips, drizzled in dark fudge frosting—a virtual and delectable chocolate overload. And Dad, well…at the heart of every summer this hard-working veteran’s ode to the Fourth of July consisted of a walk in the town parade followed by a backyard barbecue. As dusk fell, Dad carefully staked a flare in the lawn of our tiny front yard. Its light shimmered in a waterfall of colorful sparkles that elicited a delighted round of squeals coupled with a flurry of applause from my siblings and me. To a bunch of kids, the resulting fanfare from this single flare was more alluring than the grand finale on the town square.

Warm spring nights were filled with anticipation as I sat on the front steps with a scuffed and tattered baseball clutched in my hands while I waited for Dad to come home from a long day of work. It was his tradition to toss a few pitches to me before heading into the house to greet Mom and then wash up for dinner. Sometimes we got caught up in the moment and those few pitches stretched blissfully past twilight—and the dinner hour. In contrast, on snowy Chicago winter days Dad made it a tradition to help me run my paper route with his beat-up Chevy station wagon. He’d navigate through snow trenches while I bundled the papers and tossed them onto flake-dusted front porches. It was during those excursions that I soaked in Dad’s most valuable kernels of wisdom—words that have remained with me over the decades since I first heard them, “If you’re going to do a job, do it right.”

I’ve carried on some of the traditions of my childhood with my daughter and sons. For example, when Danni turned seven I purchased her first two-wheel bike and spent the afternoon pounding the pavement of our cul-de-sac as I taught her to ride in the same manner my parents employed for each of my siblings and me on our seventh birthdays. Her brothers soon followed. I also prepared sack lunches for school every day, same as my mom did each and every morning for thirteen years. Boloney and cheese with a side of raw veggies remains a favorite at our house, and sometimes I even managed to tuck witty inspirational quotes, scrawled on plain white paper napkins, inside before I closed each bag.

My husband and I have also begun a few of our own family traditions. We love leaving little notes for each other and for our children—taped to the car’s steering wheel, tucked beneath a bed pillow, at a place-setting on the dinner table, slipped with care into a pocket or shoe. The favorite Danni and I share is notes scrawled on a sheet torn from a sticky pad and slapped onto the bathroom mirror. When she started to drive, I began to leave messages for her each morning before I left for work and while she still lay soundly in her bed. “Have a great day. I love you. Be safe.” As the number of messages mounted, she framed the mirror with them. Then one day, as the time for her leave for college approached, I noticed the notes had disappeared. I thought she’d thrown them away while packing, but later wept when I found she’d tucked each one carefully into a shoebox that she carried away with her to campus. Now the messages frame a bulletin board in her dorm room and I pray they remind her daily of the importance…and fun…of traditions.

Traditions…they remain one of the ties that bind my family together and will surely also prove to be a legacy as my children, and now grandchildren as well, carry on many of the nuggets of day-to-day nuances that have over the years blossomed to be special—and cherished—memories.

~*~

Author bio: 

Mary Manners is an award-winning romance writer who lives in the beautiful foothills of East Tennessee with her husband Tim and the cherished cats they've rescued from local animal shelters...Lucky and Gus.

She loves swimming, running, flavored coffee and Smoky Mountain sunsets.

Mary believes everyone has a story to tell, and she loves to share hers. She writes inspirational romances of all lengths, from short stories to novels—something for everyone.

Book Spotlight: Where She Belongs

Today, I'd like to share the delightful details about Johnnie Alexander's latest release, Where She Belongs! Here's the cover photo:

Lovely, isn't it?

Continue reading this blog post where you will be treated to a review about Where She Belongs, an excerpt from the book, purchase links for the book and notes on how to connect with the author.

Happy reading! 

~*~

Review written by Kavon and published via Amazon with 5 stars on January 19, 2016, In Kavon's words, Where She Belongs is: That moment when you are happily reading a wonderful story and suddenly what you think is going to happen doesn't and then other things you never even dreamed of start happening instead. You're like -- whoa, wait. Noooooo! And you start waving your arms around like a rabid music conductor as you try get Character A to cool his jets so you can coach Character B to stick with it a bit longer while praying for Character C to just shove off to another book all while trying to hip check secondary characters into an appropriate holding pattern while...Yeah. There were a lot of those moments in this book. All that arm waving and not one single character listened to me. Not even the dog.

Enthralling because I wasn't sure what would happen next. Gut-wrenching because it didn't always go the way I hoped. Dipsy-swoony because when the romance is on it's really, really on! Thud! Heart-stirring because the author explores the power in relationships -- both the past and the present -- and how they shape us. Soul-nourishing because of a solid inspirational thread that anchors it all.

Read this one in a day because . . . I. Just. Couldn't. Stop.

*Book has been provided courtesy of Baker Publishing Group and Graf-Martin Communications, Inc.

~*~
Book blurb: Shelby Kincaid is ready to move on from her grief. With high hopes for the future, she longs to purchase her family’s ancestral homestead so she can raise her young daughters in the only place she ever truly belonged. She plans to transform the abandoned house into the perfect home of her memories. But she’ll have her work cut out for her. 

AJ Sullivan never wanted the homestead. Inherited as a punishment from his grandfather, it has sat empty for fifteen years and fallen into ruin. He’s glad to finally unload it. But a clean break isn’t possible when he can’t get the young widow Shelby off his mind. 

Welcome to Misty Willow, a place that will have as great a hold over the reader as it does over its inhabitants. 

~*~
Where She Belongs excerpt details from Johnnie Alexander:

Shelby Kincaid’s dream is to raise her daughters in the same house where she spent golden summers with her grandparents. After signing the papers that allows her to do just that, she celebrates by dining at a little Italian café. When AJ Sullivan shows up at her table, she reluctantly invites him to join her. Her happiness overshadows the anger she feels toward him because he let the house fall into ruin.

Story excerpt: 

“I’m sure it was. Once.” AJ bit into the soft, hot bread. Shelby’s green eyes mesmerized him, but her mercurial attitude confounded him. One minute, he felt like her enemy. The next, as if they could be best friends. Maybe even something more. “But the first time I saw it, the house had already been empty several years.”

“You didn’t want to fix it up? Live in it?”

“It’s kind of large for one person, don’t you think?” He ventured a grin. Thankfully, she nodded agreement.

“You could have rented it out. Made some money.”

He searched for a noble reason why he hadn’t done even that. But the simple truth was that he wanted nothing to do with the house or the memories it embodied. Shelby might be hurt by that truth, but perhaps his explanation would make up for whatever wrongs his family had done to hers.

“Granddad—everyone called him Sully—had several business interests,” he said. “And three heirs. My two cousins and me. I got Misty Willow, and they got everything else.”

“To punish you?”

“Yeah.”

She didn’t ask, but he read the question in her eyes. What had you done?

He gave a casual shrug, as if what he’d done wasn’t that big of a deal. Except that it was. He didn’t need to tell Shelby the whole story, though. Only the part that most people knew.

“I’m his namesake. His only son’s only son. Naturally, I was supposed to be a lawyer so I could take care of his legal affairs. But I dropped out of law school and became a teacher instead.”

“So he pretty much disinherited you?”

“Except for your farm, yes.”

“Why the ‘you can’t sell this for ten years’ clause?”

“According to Richard, who’s the trustee, Sully thought I was too headstrong. That I didn’t think before I acted. Forcing me to keep the property was meant to teach me patience.” AJ leaned back in his chair and traced a pattern on the tablecloth. “For all his faults, he was a visionary. The farmland around here becomes more valuable every year. The commute to Columbus isn’t that far. Seems people want to raise their kids in the country.”

“I understand that.”

“I guess you do. Anyway, what the commuters don’t get, developers will.”

“Not Misty Willow.”

“Nor the rest of the acreage. I kind of like the land the way it is.”

“I wish I could have afforded to lease all of it now.”

“I wish you could have too.” Apparently, the numbers hadn’t worked out for her to lease more than the thirty-two acres. At least that’s what Richard had said. AJ wasn’t sure what difference it made in the long run, though. He gave her an encouraging smile. “But you have first options on the rest, and it’s not going anywhere.”

“I guess that means we’ll be doing business again in the future.”

AJ lifted his glass of tea. “To the future.”

A slow smile brightened Shelby’s features as she clinked her glass against his. “To the future.”

With her perfect timing, Tiff sidled to the table with separate checks and routine questions about to-go boxes. AJ paid both bills then escorted Shelby to her car. The moon hung low on the horizon, and only a few stars gleamed in the night sky.

Shelby clicked the remote to unlock the car. “Thank you for supper.”

“Thanks for letting me sit down.” Stepping in front of her, he opened the door.

“Thank you for the key too. Tell your grandmother it means the world to me.”

“She’ll be glad.”

Shelby started to get in, then halted, standing so close her delicate fragrance beckoned him even closer. “You’re very close to her, aren’t you?”

AJ’s throat tightened. “Very.”

“It’s hard. Losing a grandmother.” She stared past him, a faraway look in her clear eyes. “The pain eases, but it never goes away.”

“Would you want it to?”

She looked at him a moment, her eyes dark in the dim light of a nearby lamppost, then barely shook her head. “Good night.”

“Night.”

AJ stood on the sidewalk, staring at the taillights as she drove away. When she turned a corner, he jammed his hands in his pockets and strode to his Jeep. He envied her. That’s why he couldn’t stop thinking about her.

He envied her passion for a rundown house. He envied her happy childhood memories. He was even jealous that she had kids.

There had been a time when he thought he could change the dysfunctional Sullivan legacy. Become a respected husband and loving father.

But God couldn’t trust him with a family of his own. Not after the way he’d messed things up.

As he slid into his Jeep, he vowed not to think of Shelby Kincaid’s dazzling eyes or delicate features. Ever again.

~*~
Author bio: 

Johnnie Alexander writes inspiring stories that linger in the heart. Where Treasure Hides, her debut novel, won the ACFW Genesis Contest (2011) and Golden Leaf Award (2014). Her first contemporary romance, Where She Belongs (Misty Willow Series; Revell), and her first novella, The Healing Promise (Courageous Bride Collection; Barbour), releases in 2016. 

She also has won Best Novel and Best Writer awards (Florida Christian Writers Conferences), and Bronze Medalist (My Book Therapy Frasier Contest). She volunteers as a category coordinator for the ACFW Genesis Contest, judges various contests, and serves as marketing director for the MidSouth Christian Writers Conference.

A graduate of Rollins College (Orlando) with a Master of Liberal Studies degree, Johnnie treasures family memories, classic movies, road trips, and stacks of books. She lives in the Memphis area with a small herd of alpacas and Rugby, the princely papillon who trees raccoons.

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Buy Johnnie's book:
Amazon, Barnes & Noble and Christian Book Distributors

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Connect with Johnnie: 

Visit her Blog, Facebook Profile (Friend or Follow!) Author Page on Facebook, Follow Johnnie on Twitter, GoodReads and learn more about her books via her Amazon Author Page.