Monthly Archives: February 2015

Devo Day

photo 5(2)Hi everyone! Life has been extra busy for me lately. I have a lot on my plate and instead of missing a Thursday devotional, I am redirecting you to my friend’s site where she posted a fantastic devotional on “Living Close to Him.”

Have a great week! See you Monday when I share about my latest release.


Shattered Image with Author Stacy Monson

Monson,-Stacy_05-RetouchedAuthor Stacy Monson visits with us this week to share with us about her new release. Welcome, Stacy. Please tell us about Shattered Image.   This is a story about who we try to be on the outside and who we’re really supposed to be – who society says we should be versus who God created us to be. A fired spokesmodel comes to grip with her role in the arena of fashion for teens, while an aspiring singer realizes his dream, finding himself entangled in the web of fame and celebrity. Both face choices that pit their dreams against those they love most, and some of those choices will cost them more than they bargained for.

How long did it take you to write Shattered Image? I participated in NaNoWriMo three years ago, and wrote this entire book during the month of November – 85K. Since then, it’s endured several edits to reach its final form.

Oh my goodness! I can’t imagine writing that much in one month. How did you come up with the idea for your story? The older I get, the more concerned I become with the message our young people (and those of us not so young) constantly receive from the media – look this way, buy this and you’ll have perfect friends, make sure you get your share of fame and fortune. None of it is real, but we’ve been fed a steady diet of those messages for so long we don’t question them. I’m sad when I see girls, and guys too, who are trying so hard to look like the people they see on TV and in movies, instead of being (and loving) who they are with their own special traits. And we see how shallow and meaningless the lives are of those who do live their lives in the spotlight as they battle drugs, depression, and multiple divorces. It made me wonder what it must be like to find yourself in the glare of that spotlight, and how it might change you, regardless of how strongly you believe you wouldn’t change.

I agree with your concern 100%. More than once I’ve voiced the same concern to my family and friends. What do you hope readers will take away from Shattered Image? That every single one of us is unique, with God-given talents and looks and dreams that no one else has. It’s not what’s on the outside that matters as much as what’s on the inside, who God has created us to be. When people don’t follow their own path, when they try to live someone else’s life, their world has a hole in it, one that only they can fill being exactly who they were made to be.

Why will readers enjoy your main characters? I work hard to write characters the reader might want to hang out with, who are real and engaging. I think both Kiera and Peter are like that. Kiera fiercely loves her dad and will do whatever it takes to make sure he’s cared for. Her relationship with him is filled with love, laughter, friendship, and some heartbreak as well. Peter loves entertaining people, but he’s awkward and shy offstage. He’s sweet, and more than a little naïve, which gets him into some tough situations. And even though he thinks he’s ready for what celebrity will do to his life, he has no idea.

Please tell us one thing about yourself that may surprise us. I had two major fears growing up – speaking into a microphone, and God sending me to Africa. A job I had morphed into a position that required me to speak before small and large groups. Eventually I learned to master the microphone, despite my protests to let someone else do it! And God did send me to Africa when I led a group from my church to visit our sister church in Tanzania. What amazing people in an amazing country. I’d go back in a heartbeat!

How interesting that you ended up going to Africa. 🙂 Since this is February, did you do anything special for Valentines Day? My husband and I have never gone overboard celebrating Valentine’s Day – we just enjoy hanging out together and doing something low-key. But our first grandchild was born on Valentine’s Day 2014 so now I’m looking forward to celebrating her, and the amazing love that fills us now that we’re grandparents.

What a nice way to spend the day. What is next for you? My second book in the Chain of Lakes Series, Crisis of Grace, will be coming out early summer 2015, so I’m working on fine-tuning it. It’s based in the same Uptown neighborhoods as Shattered Image, but the characters are completely different. There’s Kurt, an ex-con, and Vanessa, a young woman carrying a huge burden of guilt while hiding a secret from everyone she knows. God intervenes to radically change both their lives in ways they never expected, which sends a ripple of change through River House (a drop-in center for teens) and the entire neighborhood. I’m so excited to release Crisis of Grace and hope my readers will love it as much as I do.

Stacy Monson writes stories that show an extraordinary God at work in ordinary life. Her debut novel, Shattered Image, will release in March 2015, with the rest of the series to follow later in 2015. A member of ACFW (American Christian Fiction Writers), she is the current secretary and past president of MN-NICE, as well as the Area Coordinator for Minnesota. She is the proud grandma of Kaira Mae, wife of a juggling, unicycling physical education teacher, mom to two amazing kids, and two wonderful in-law kids. You can learn more about Stacy and her books at

God of the Impossible by guest Ruthie Madison

Ruthie Madison 10926417_1040071532673022_6289040652924857760_nI’m the type of the person that believes that nothing is impossible to God. That is how big my faith is! Abraham was the same way.

Abraham being an old man and his wife also old were way past child bearing age. I believed that both had wanted children but nothing happened. Abraham must have looked at Sarah with such love in his eyes and said, “I’m just happy with you.” As he tenderly touched her face. We’re not sure this happen but what man wouldn’t want a son? Also Abraham had lived his life with his father where people were polytheistic (Worship of many gods) so maybe he hadn’t really known God to be the God of the impossible. Until God spoke to him one night.

“Abraham, I’m going to bless you BIG, but you have to leave Ur. I’ll show you the way.”

Here is where the kicker comes in: “And through you all the families of the earth will be blessed.” Try telling that to a woman past her forties or a man past the age today, esp. if he hadn’t known God as the god of the Impossible!

But Abraham listened. He packed his family and his possessions and left. No questions asked.

It was later when God told Abraham that his descendants would be as numerous as the stars in the sky!

If that was me, it would blow my mind! But the scriptures says that Abraham believed God.

Abraham got what God promised him and He and his wife named their first son Isaac (Laughter because Sarah left)

In the book of Romans, Paul wrote that Abraham didn’t waver in his faith and glorified God. God renamed Abram to Abraham even though Abraham had to wait for the fulfillment of the promise. I’m guessing the gentiles must have laughed in his face because they saw no evidence of Abraham of living up to his name (Father of nations).

Today when God gives us a new name or a promise, we must not waver in our faith. All the promises of God in Jesus Christ is Yes and Amen. IF God said it, then believe it! God never fails to fulfill his promises to us. No matter what our circumstances tell us, believe His Word.

Ruthie added Book ! 2014 decRuthie Madison is known for her unique writing styles. When she is not writing, she takes care of her widowed mother, along with her older sister. Ruthie grows and learns as an author from other authors in writers groups such as Christian Indie Authors. She had come a long way from her first book “Marge” which was republished and renamed as A Second Chance at Love. Ruthie sees her books as a little foreshadowing of her own life and are mostly based on her faith. You can learn more about her here:
and find her blog here:
Find her on Facebook here:

Brentwood’s Ward by Michelle Grip

Brentwood's Ward Cover PeekThanks for joining us, Michelle. Please tell us about BRENTWOOD’S WARD.

Think Dickens meets Sherlock Holmes and you’ll have a general feel for the tone. Here’s a blurb:

There’s none better than NICHOLAS BRENTWOOD at catching the felons who ravage London’s streets, and there’s nothing he loves more than seeing justice carried out—but this time he’s met his match. Beautiful and beguiling EMILY PAYNE is more treacherous than a city full of miscreants and thugs, for she’s a thief of the highest order . . . she’s stolen his heart.

 How did you come up with the idea for this story?

What attracted my interest as an author was an old newspaper advertisement put out by Henry Fielding, the founder of the Bow Street Runners. It encouraged the public to send a note to Bow Street as soon as any serious crime occurred so that “a set of brave fellows could immediately be dispatched in pursuit of the villains.” I wondered about those “brave fellows” and what kind of villains they might come up against, and thus was born Nicholas Brentwood.

What do you hope readers will take away from BRENTWOOD’S WARD?

That whether we like it or not, God’s the one in charge. He doesn’t operate on our timeframe nor act in ways that are predictable. Nonetheless, He is faithful and completely trustworthy.

Will you share a favorite excerpt or scene?

Sure. This is taken from a scene where Nicholas has been kept waiting to leave for a ball that he never wanted to go to in the first place . . .

Nicholas snapped shut his watch and tucked it back into his pocket. He needn’t have looked. The chiming of the sitting room clock verified what he already knew. They were late. Not that he cared a fig about some silly ball, but regardless of the occasion, tardiness grated on him like skidding bare-fleshed on gravel.

And he had the scars to prove it.

Finally, silk swished behind him. The pad of slippers on tread turned him around. High time she quit her dilly-dallying and—

He froze. A jolt of heat hit him square in the chest. The only words that came to mind were fear not.

For an angel stood in front of him.

Emily paused on the last step, wide-eyed, lips parted. Lamplight brushed a soft glow over her shape. Warmth radiated from her, golden and brilliant—as if all the stars in the universe met and mingled in one focused point, igniting the space between them with risky possibility.

His gaze traveled the length of her, memorizing every line and curve, each delicate fold and shimmer of her gown. Then slowly, like a man gazing at a lover as he’s led to a noose, he lifted his eyes to her face, for indeed, she held his heart in her hands. She could snuff the life from him if she knew.

Her cheeks wore the first blush of a spring rose. Her eyes gleamed with amber fire. His fingers longed to reach out and discover if her skin were as soft as it promised.

She descended the last step, her sweet lily scent pulling him toward her. The sweeping arc of her lips mesmerized. . .so full, so red. His heart beat a primal rhythm, wild and deep. Three paces, that’s all, just three and he could wrap his arms around her slim waist, lower his mouth to hers, and—

A shudder ran through him, settling low in his belly. If he didn’t contain this here, now, the evening would end with regret.

He scowled and wheeled about. “About time you deigned to make an appearance, Miss Payne. I’ve been waiting the better part of an hour. Does it really take that long to make yourself presentable?”

“Well!” She huffed behind him. “Good evening to you, too, Mr. Brentwood.”

He grabbed her pelisse from the coat tree near the door and held it out. “We’re late, thanks to you. Don’t expect me to be pleasant about it.” He suppressed a cringe as his own harsh tone boxed his ears, but better to anger her. Better she keep her distance.

Better he keep his. Oh God, help me, please.

Please tell us one thing about yourself that may surprise us.

There was a short season when I kicked around the idea of becoming an astronaut. Two problems with that, though. First off, I hate science and math, both of which are slightly necessary to succeed in an aerospace career. Secondly, it was a total deal breaker when I found out that astronauts don’t actually wear cool Lt. Uhura uniforms.

LOL Maybe someday we can go to space as regular people. 🙂 What is next for you?

Besides fame and fortune, I’m working on a sequel to Brentwood’s Ward, following the trail of another Bow Street Runner. Here’s a blurb:

Officer ALEXANDER MOORE goes undercover as a rogue gambler to expose a traitorous plot against the king—and a master he is with his disguise, for JOHANNA LANGLEY believes him to be quite the cad. But when Johanna is swept up in the intrigue, Alex must choose between his mission and reputation as a crack Bow Street Runner or the woman he’s come to love.

Michelle Griep Headshot About the Writer

Michelle Griep’s been writing since she first discovered blank wall space and Crayolas. She seeks to glorify God in all that she writes—except for that graffiti phase she went through as a teenager.

She resides in the frozen tundra of Minnesota, where she teaches history and writing classes for a local high school co-op. An Anglophile at heart, she runs away to England every chance she gets, under the guise of research. Really, though, she’s eating excessive amounts of scones.

Follow her adventures at:

My Website: Michelle Griep

My Blog: Writer Off the Leash

And all the other usual haunts: Facebook, Twitter, LinkedIn, Pinterest, Goodreads, and Instagram.


Clearing the snow by Guest blogger Becca Whitham

DSCF0851There is something intensely beautiful about a snow-covered scene—the fresh, white covering dirt, debris, cracks and all sorts of imperfections. It’s a picture of how God sees us when we have allowed the sacrifice of Christ to cover us and make us clean.

But think about how much effort goes into making sure we can get around town through shoveling and plowing. We take beautiful snow, push it aside, and get down to some pretty rough stuff in order to go about the business of living.

How often, as Christians, do we fail to help people get about the business of living by staying snow covered, by not disclosing the warped, cracked, rough places in our lives? We would much rather stay covered up—all pretty and pure and sparkly—and remain trapped inside our homes, businesses, and churches than be red-faced with exertion as we shovel down so the rubber of life can meet the road.

I’m not suggesting we need to make public everything in our lives, but we do need to clear a path so we can get outside and others can get to us safely.

Because what kind of people do we become when we are not willing to uncover some of our ugliness? In his book What’s so Amazing about Grace?, Phillip Yancey wrote, “I rejected the church for a time because I found so little grace there. I returned because I found grace nowhere else.” People willing to admit their own sin do not despise other sinners.

So, revel in the beauty of the snow, just be sure to shovel enough of it away to clear a path for those needing to find a way to grace.

Becca Whitham Homestead Brides jacket coverBecca Whitham (pronounced “WIT-um”) is a new author whose love of reading goes back to the days of hiding under the covers with a flashlight and a novel. Her husband’s midlife crisis sent them into the army where he serves as a chaplain. Together, they minister to couples in trouble. Her passion is to see all marriages thrive through a clear understanding of Biblical principles. She is active in the ACFW both locally and nationally, won the first Pikes Peak Writers Contest, and was a 2012 Genesis Finalist in the Historical Romance category. Her first published work, “Waiting on a Promise,” is part of The Homestead Brides Collection (Barbour, February 2015). She and her husband are empty-nesters who currently live in Oklahoma, but home is wherever the army sends them. She can be reached through her blog at

Malicious Mischief with Lora Young

Lora MaliciousMischiefFrontFinal6x9 - CopyPlease tell us about Malicious Mischief (Book 1 of the Katy Railway Mysteries).

Delia Eastman returns home from teachers’ college with two goals: find a teaching position and sidestep her mother’s insistence on finding her a husband. But employers don’t care for women who are smarter than they. Neither do suitors. As she struggles to find her place, she discovers her sleepy riverboat town has turned into a powder-keg of rivalry between the steamships and the railroads.


Increasingly violent vandalism on the railroad brings her face-to-face with Endy Webster, a handsome trainmaster whose investigation into the crimes leads him to the door of a prominent steamship owner—Delia’s father.


As Delia tries to clear her father’s name, she keeps tangling with Endy. He’s intelligent. He’s charming. And he’s guarding secrets. Thinking he might know more than he’s telling, Delia reluctantly agrees to collaborate with him to solve the crimes. With the vandalism becoming deadly, they’ll need every scrap of intelligence and logic to stay alive. Working together may not be their first choice, but it might be their last.


How long did it take you to write?

My rough draft took seven months. Since I was pursuing traditional publication and had few opportunities to present my work to agents and editors, I worked on and off revising and polishing for another three years. I alternated between this series and another series entitled the O’Neills of Piper Creek. Book 1 (Once a Thief) will be released soon.


How did you come up with the idea for this story?

My husband and I love to bike the Katy Trail in Missouri. It’s the longest rails-to-trails project in the United States. Now over 250 miles long, the Katy Trail runs between Machens, Missouri (near St. Louis) to Clinton, Missouri and follows the Missouri River for much of the way. At the trailhead in New Franklin, I read of Joseph Kinney, a steamship owner, whose hatred of the railroads spurred him to write many vitriolic editorials to the St. Louis newspapers. I wondered what would happen if a steamship owner’s daughter fell in love with a trainman. Somewhere in the midst of writing, the story became a mystery and the idea for the series was born.


Will you share a favorite excerpt or scene?

Of the three Eastman sisters, Delia is the closest to her father. This is an part action/part tender scene that shows their relationship and gives some reasons for Gerald Eastman’s hatred of the railroads.

Delia hated waiting. She had no doubts about why her father had invited her to make the Glasgow packet run with him, but instead of having The Talk with her, he conversed about a wide array of other subjects.

They discussed the upcoming presidential election. The benefits of using coal versus wood as fuel for the steam engines. The environmental changes the snag boats made to the river.

Now they stood on the forward hurricane deck of the Eliza B. Almost home and he still hadn’t broached the subject. Maybe he dreaded it as much as she.

The breeze tugged at Delia’s hat, and she pulled it off. She leaned on the rail. Despite the current drought in Missouri, heavy rains to the north kept the river running high and fast. As they traveled downriver, the water seemed to rush at the ship. She waved to a fisherman in a rowboat.

Papa propped his elbows next to hers and nodded at the hat in her hand. “Shall we move to a lower deck?”

“If you wish. I mind the wind less than I mind the mob down there.”

“You’ve never been one for crowds, have you, dear?”

“I don’t intend to be unsociable.” She used her hat to fan her suddenly warm face. “When I’m in the midst of too many people, I feel…panicky. As though I’m trapped.”

“Believe it or not, I’ve noticed that. It’s why I find it difficult to imagine you in front of a classroom filled with squirming children.”

“Although I’ve never experienced a classroom, I believe the rewards of teaching will far outweigh the temporary discomfort.”

“You could be right.”

“I know I’m right. You see, in one of my education classes, we tutored struggling students. My instructor paired me with a third grade boy who had difficulty summing fractions. I tried explaining them with drawings and examples, but they still didn’t make sense to him. Finally, I brought apples and a knife to the lesson. We cut them into pieces and put them back together, over and over. Papa, I saw on his face the moment he comprehended. He giggled and…he even hugged me. A completely new piece of the world opened up to him. And I facilitated that.” A lump formed in her throat. “I’ve never felt more fulfilled.”

“I can understand that.” Papa wrapped his arm around her. “Continue seeking a position with the schools, but don’t ignore your mother’s wishes.”

Delia waited for more. She glanced sidelong at him.

He stared at the river in front of them and said nothing.

That was it? The dreaded talk was over? Delia kissed his scruffy cheek. “I will put forth my best effort. Part of my difficulty is your fault, you know.”

“Oh?” He seemed distracted, but she could see nothing on the river to account for it.

“You’ve set the bar quite high. It will be challenging to find a man like you.”

“Only because you have a limited sampling of men.” Papa gave her a gentle squeeze. “Perhaps you should widen your circle of acquaintances and take a harder look at the young men you already know. Someone might surprise you.”

“Yes, Papa.”

He released her and faced the pilot house. “Looks like Hathaway at the wheel.” He spoke soft and low. More to himself than to her. A frown pulled at his mouth and creased his forehead.

“Is everything all right, Papa?”

“Hmm? Yes. Yes, everything is fine. Your grandmama would call me a worry wart.”

“When you and Mama married, did Grandmama approve?”

Papa smiled. “Not entirely. I’m afraid she didn’t see the same things in your mama that I saw.”

Delia faced forward. The ship rounded the bend and for a moment, the Boonville railroad bridge silhouetted against the sky.

Papa cast a another glance at the pilot house.

She probably shouldn’t ask, but the words slipped out. “Did you and Mama love each other?”

He turned to her, astonished. “Of course we did. Still do. Why do you ask?”

Ah. Now she had his undivided attention. Just when she didn’t really want it. She shrugged. A movement Mama hated. “I wondered. Mama always refers to marriage as a woman’s duty. As though it isn’t much fun.”

Grinning, Papa turned toward the river again. “You’ll have to ask your mother how she feels, but I’ve— Lord, have mercy.” He whirled. “Delia, grab a Kisbee ring and run to the port side.”

The steamboat hugged closer and closer to the southern bank. The vessel seemed on a collision course with the bridge’s right-hand piling.

“Papa!” Heart pounding, she grabbed his coat. “Will the ship sink?”

“Not if I can help it. Now do as I say.” He ran up the ladder to the pilot house and disappeared inside.

Seconds later, Captain Holt clattered up after Papa.

Delia took the red-striped ring from the portside wall and clasped it to her chest. The Eastman Steamship Company had never lost a ship before. Not like this. “Lord, have mercy.”

The ship drew closer and closer to the enormous iron piling. She moistened her lips.

A man on the deck below yelled. The passengers had noticed the danger.

Above the cries and shouts of the people, a voice rang out. “Stay calm, ladies and gentlemen. The captain has everything under control.”

And Papa. The ship gradually seemed to be moving to the left. Delia held her breath as the forward main deck cleared the abutment. The Texas deck blocked her view.

Unable to bear not knowing, she ran to the starboard side and looked down and aft.

They weren’t going to make it. The main decking and the giant paddlebox on the side-wheeler stuck out too far.

She stood, unable to tear her eyes from the impending disaster.

The ship struck the Boonville Bridge.

Delia tumbled to the deck, flailing for a handhold.

Splintering wood echoed like gunshots.

The screech of metal against metal filled the air.

Debris flew up from the crash. Bits and pieces of the ship smattered the rearward deck and splashed into the river.

Moments later, the sounds ceased. They were replaced by screams and cries from the passengers below.

Shrapnel from the collision might have injured passengers on the boiler deck.

Delia scrambled down the stairs and, in the midst of the confusion, found a doctor. For the next hour, she assisted him in treating the cuts and abrasions of the other passengers. The sight of the bloodied clothing and limbs made her stomach feel queer, but—thanks be to God—none of the injuries were serious.

She finished tying a cloth bandage around a young man’s shoulder and stood to help him rise.

Papa appeared next to her and took the youth’s good arm. “Are you all right?” he asked the man. Receiving a nod for an answer, Papa turned to Delia. “And you, my dear?”

She handed the young man to the ministrations of an older woman. His mother, perhaps? “I’m well—I think. What about the ship? Is there a hull breach?”

“No. We got her turned enough to avoid that. She’s listing quite badly though.”

“That would only make sense. May I view the damage?” Perhaps seeing the shredded iron and wood would affect her less than seeing torn flesh.

Papa nodded and escorted her to the other side of the ship.

The side paddle had been shorn in half.

“What about the railroad bridge?”

Papa swore. His eyes smoldered, and he spoke through clenched teeth. “I don’t care about their abominable bridge. I’ve had enough of the railroads sticking their infernal structures all over this country. One way or another, they have to be stopped.”

What is next for you?

I have the release of Once a Thief soon.


Convicted thief and con-woman Teagan Copperfield is willing to do anything to avoid prison even become an honest woman. Earning a full-pardon for her crimes should be a piece of cake. All she has to do is gain the trust of Jared O’Neill, the cynical lawyer in charge of her rehabilitation, and help him root out the political corruption in Colorado Territory’s capitol. Oh, and keep him alive until her pardon comes through.


The task isn’t without pitfalls, however. The unconditional love offered by the O’Neill family threatens to break through her emotional defenses. Ellie, a six-year-old orphan, has a faith in God that Teagan finds intriguing. Then there’s Jared O’Neill—a man unlike any Teagan has ever known.

I’m also working on Book 2 of the Katy Railway Mysteries. It’s called Malicious Intent.


Meet   Eleanor Grace (AKA Ellen Potts). Eleanor has turned lying into an art form. She does it to protect her heart, but one of her lies might spell disaster for the MK&T Railroad.

Enter   Seth Brady—a man who is torn between supporting his family as a station agent for the railroad and following his dream of a being a concert pianist. When his railway station receives a series of bomb threats, both careers might blow sky high.

Thanks for sharing with us, Lora!

Readers, if you would like to be entered into a drawing for an eCopy of Malicious Mischief please leave a comment.

Rules: Drawing ends February 15, 2015. The winner will be notified 2/16/2015. There must be five qualifying comments for the drawing to take place. Kimberly’s and Lora’s comments do not count. Void where prohibited by law.

Lora Young DSC_1146editedLora Young has never lived outside the state of Missouri. She grew up reading the Little House books and Trixie Belden mysteries, so it makes sense that her first novel would be an historical mystery set in Missouri.

Lora lives in rural Platte County with her husband, four cats, and the constant interruption of her children and grandchildren. She enjoys riding her tadpole recumbent, ballroom dancing, and making stuff up.

She is a member of the Kansas City West chapter of American Christian Fiction Writers.

Portrait of a Daughter of the King by Doreen Hanna

Good close up shot 2011

I remember awakening early one Sunday morning, when I was probably ten years old, hearing my grandmother quietly talking and singing. Curious, I tip-toed to peak through the crack of her bedroom door. Knelt by her bed, she looked like an angel as she was praying.

My thoughts drifted thinking of how I saw her most often. She’d be standing by the old gas stove making fresh tortillas; her hair in a bun, never wearing make-up; always dressed in a sackcloth dress and her nylon stockings rolled down to her ankles wearing loafers.

However, my focus was never long on how she looked because the moment she set eyes on me she would always exclaim, “Miya! How are you? You look beautiful today! Then she would hand me a fresh tortilla right off the hot griddle, and then say, “Sit down and tell me everything. I want to know all about you!” Week after week, year after year she richly validated that I was one of her most treasured possessions.

My reflective thoughts were dispelled as she must have heard me at the door. She waved me in and I knelt down as she continued to pray. She asked God’s blessings on everyone, it seemed, then ended singing a song.

When she finished she got up and said, “I must get dressed and you need to get ready to go. Your mother and father will be here soon.”

Moments later her bedroom door opened. I glanced over and took note immediately that she was wearing high heels! My eyes began to scan upward. Her nylons were rolled up past her knees. She was wearing a lovely blue dress and draped over her shoulders was fox fur collared coat cuddling her neck. Her pillbox hat was securely placed on her head with its simple veil draped over her forehead. Her purse graced her arm and her posture was like that of an arrow.

“Grandma,” I exclaimed, “You are so pretty. Do you always go to church dressed like that?” With great delight in her voice she proclaimed, “Miya, I am going to meet with the King of Kings. I am a Daughter of the King!” A chill quivered down my spine and I immediately sat up a little straighter. I felt I was in presence of royalty.

The doorbell rang. It was my parents. They quickly ushered me into the car. As we sped away I looked out the rear window to see my grandmother throwing me kisses until I was out of sight.

Today, whenever she comes to mind, I see the incredible confidence that she had in knowing “whose” she was! She was a daughter of the King of Kings.

She knew her Heavenly Father in an intimate way, confident to enter the presence of the King.

  • She did not hesitate to boldly ask for His best for all those that she prayed for.
  • She spent time daily getting to know Him through His Word.
  • She always looked for ways to bless others.

Today, I pray that you and I will embrace the riches we have in Him, enabling us to walk in the royalty we possess as Daughters of the Kings,

Raising a Modern-Day Princess Final Cover-small Doreen Hanna is the Founder & President of Treasured Celebrations Ministries – the non-profit umbrella for Modern Day Princess Headquarters. She is a Focus on the Family published author. A nationally known speaker. A faculty member of CLASS (Christian Leaders & Speakers Seminars). She was the first West-Coast Ministry Rep for Women of Faith, and for more than 30 years has been a Bible study teacher.

Additional information about Doreen can be found at: or