Rose and I have been besties for a very long time. I don't remember a time in my life she wasn't there. She and I have weathered the ups and downs of life. Rose has been there to drag me to social stuff, while I have been there to be the voice of logic for Rose. When Tim asked me to describe my relationship with Rose, I chose an analogy that I knew he would understand.

"I am the Spock to Rose's Captain Kirk, only Rose is a much cuter and more moral captain."

Tim loved that. Rose is the adventurous, passionate one while I have often tried to pretend my feelings don't exist, or hide them from the world. I am the one that would rather read or write, while Rose has reminded me never to forget that people are more important.

Rose is the Anna to my Maria, she was the inspiration for Alditha, she listened to me read the earliest version of Brother's and Betrayal, and has excitedly listened as I told her about Dreams and Devotion.

Now, I'm helping her pack boxes for moving out of the house and all the way to Michigan. On a recent Sunday, as we worked together to pack boxes, I lost it. I left the room, ran to Mom and Dad's room and started sobbing. I haven't cried this hard since I was explaining to some close friends, probably almost a year ago, some things that had been weighing on my heart. I held tight to my Dad and cried hard.

"She can't move so far away."

"This guy can't be good enough."

"It hurts."

Those were a couple of things I said as I sobbed. Most of the time, I just held either my Mom or Dad and cried for about an hour. I was so mad at myself for doing it, too. Why couldn't I just be happy for Rose? I was being so selfish to think of me! If I wanted to be selfish, couldn't I just think about the fact I would have my own room for the first time in my life?

When I had finally cried myself out, through texts with friends and talks with Mom and Dad, I was reminded of a very powerful fact: tears can be healing. I needed to grieve what I was losing. As a friend of mine wisely pointed out, while Rose and I will always be friends, our relationship has altered and will never be the same again. It's okay to be sad that our time as best buddies living in the same room is coming to an end.

Monday morning, I woke up lighter and able to simply be happy for Rose. I needed to grieve so that I would be free to rejoice. I keep having to relearn the lessons that often my deepest emotions need to be expressed so that I can be free.

When was the last time that you cried tears that brought healing?

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Description: What once was blazing hatred has turned to lasting love, but could the union of a wild heart with that of a lady ever result in more than heartache?
With the help of an old friend with uncertain loyalties, Dirk inches ever closer to clearing his name. Gwyneth throws her faith into good tidings and the promise of a future as a family. But an old evil comes to call, just as tragedy rips apart a fledgling truce. Enemies from the past and grief for the future threaten to tear asunder what God had brought together…
As the date of Dirk’s trial approaches, his fate and his family hang in the balance. Will he be proven innocent of Gwyneth’s parents’ murders—or separated from her forever? How much pain does it take to erode a love steadfast?

Wow! What a powerful conclusion to the series. I just sat staring off into space for a few minutes after finishing, soaking in what I had just read.

This story held a lot more kissing and such than the last two books, but that isn’t surprising or disturbing, as Gwyn and Dirk are now married. Their love was sweet and deep, which I loved. Besides, it isn’t every author that goes beyond the wedding day. I cheered when I found out that Rachelle took this story farther than most authors would have.

Dirk and Gwyn’s marriage is far from perfect. In fact, most of the story is spent with a wide gulf between them. I think that perhaps they struggled more in this book then they ever did in the first book. Dirk and Gwyn both make some big mistakes in how they cope with a tragedy, and I loved that. This book dealt with a lot of raw pain in a way that was realistic and God-honoring. So many authors miss this sweet spot, and Rachelle Rea Cobb nailed it!

The hardest thing about a series that I love is saying goodbye. While this book was an emotional roller-coaster, the ending was beautiful and satisfying. While I would love to read more about Dirk and Gwyn, the story must come to an end sometime.

This whole series was a delight. I highly recommend it to those who love historical fiction, romance, and dealing with emotional issues in a godly way.

My sister is getting married. While maybe it isn't necessary for me to get her a wedding gift, I wanted to. In fact, each sibling is thinking up something for Tim and Rose. Being a book person, what is better than giving the gift of books?

I asked some of my friends who married in the last couple of years for the books that prepared them for marriage and helped them through the first few months. I looked through the lists and bought a few of them.

There are lots of really fun things that I could have bought for Rose. After all, I can really get into decorating rooms. However, I wanted to give Rose and Tim a practical gift. One that wouldn't just help them create a home, but that would help them build a marriage.

What did/would you give your sibling when they got/get married?

It had happened again. Yet another delusional man claimed to be the Messiah. Jonathan moved with the crowd, his anger pulsing with his heartbeat. If only Israel was not controlled by Rome. This radical man would not have been allowed to teach as long as he had, Jewish law would have stopped him long ago. Yeshua of Nazareth had claimed to be so many things, like the son of God, King, and Messiah.
 “Blasphemer!” someone shouted as Yeshua was dragged out onto the stage, bloodied from the whipping he had received. Pilate stood not far away looking across the crowd.
Jonathan's hands balled into fists and he felt anger surge within him. They should not have to be groveling to a Roman ruler to carry out justice. Yet, as long as this blasphemer died, justice would have been done. He saw that his anger was mirrored on many of the faces in the crowd. He had seen a man or woman here who supported this Yeshua, but they had been silenced hours ago. He peered around trying to look for one face. Somewhere in the crowed, he knew that Tabitha would be there with her family. He had seen them earlier, but the press of people had separated them.
The anger ebbed a little as he thought of Tabitha. They had become betrothed a few months before, and he was grateful. She was a devout and sweet girl who would make a good wife. If Adonai smiled on them, they and their children would see the restoration of Israel.
Pilate raised his hands, and the crowd quieted. “I tell you, I find nothing wrong with this man!”
Jonathan shook his fists and yelled along with the other men in the crowd at Pilate’s words. How could he find no fault with this man?
“He should be crucified,” someone next to him whispered.
Jonathan had heard this spoken of before, but now he allowed his anger to carry him away. He shouted along with the crowd, his anger burning.
“Crucify him! Crucify him!”
“Why? What crime has he committed?” Pilate asked.
Jonathan was barely able to hear the words between his own shouts, and he only shouted louder when he did hear. Pilate would not understand; the man was Roman, not a Jew. He had no fear of God in his heart. Justice must be served. This Yeshua of Nazareth must be punished.
Suddenly, everyone around him grew quiet. He felt almost as if he had plunged beneath the water, so sudden and heavy was the silence.
Pilate washed his hands in water and held them up toward the crowd.
“I am innocent of this man’s blood,” Pilate yelled. “He is your responsibility.”
The silence ended with a wave of noise that started from the back of the crowd. The cry was picked up and repeated over and over again. Jonathan heard it and picked up the chant.
“May his blood be on us and on our children! May his blood be on us and on our children!”
The Romans grabbed the troublemaker, Yeshua, and dragged him away. Jonathan cheered and moved with the crowd, his blood pumping. This was justice. Adonai was at work, even through these Romans.
“Jonathan!”
He looked up and saw Tabitha in the crowd. He moved toward her, moving against the press of people. Her father and brother were with her, yet she still looked frightened. It was not surprising, the crowd, having had their way, were becoming angrier and violent.
“Are you going with them?” Tabitha shouted above the crowd.
Jonathan nodded. “This is a glorious day! Today, justice will be served. Adonai will use the Romans to carry out His justice.”
Tabitha’s father put his arm around her shoulder. “I think I will take my children back to the house.”
Jonathan nodded. Tabitha had no doubt seen her share of crucifixions. Rome had often lined roads with crosses when rebellion had come. Yet it was a sight that, if a woman could avoid, she should.
Without another word, he moved along with the crowd, letting the tide of people carry him along. There were a few who sympathized with this man, Yeshua, and Jonathan was ashamed. This should be something that all Jews were united against! Blasphemers like this should not be tolerated, yet there was a woman crying over Yeshua’s fate. Someone spat on the woman and shoved her aside.
“You do not know what you are doing!” a man shouted, looking straight into Jonathan's eyes. “He is who he claims to be. You have cried out that his blood is on you and your children.”
Jonathan grabbed the man’s arm and pulled him along. “Come and see how powerful your king is!”

While Jonathan was happy to see justice done, the blood and horror of a crucifixion was sickening. This was never what it was supposed to be like. The Jews were supposed to stone people like this, not have them die like this, exposed to the world without any clothing, struggling for each breath as blood poured out of their body.
He looked at the ground as men taunted Yeshua. All the anger had evaporated from him when he had watched Yeshua offer no resistance as the men took his clothes, and then he had lain down on the cross himself, without fighting. Shouldn’t he have fought? Shouldn’t he be angry and shouted at the Romans?
Jonathan’s head shot up as a cry escaped Yeshua.
“Father, forgive them, for they don’t know what they are doing,” Yeshua cried out.
Jonathan winced and looked away. The words disturbed him deep within himself. Who was this Yeshua? What kind of man asked for forgiveness for those who called for and carried out his execution?

Jo-Ann Fabric is not the place to get emotional. I know this now from personal experience. It hit me as my sister went around the store looking for fabric that was the right shade of pink: She is moving out and going all the way to Michigan. People give you odd looks when you are staring at pink fabrics as if your heart is being ripped out.

After my emotional moment (or ten), I became excited with my sister as she picked out a pretty cotton fabric that was the right color. Now, I know what some of you are thinking, and you would be right - cotton and weddings don't normally go together. However, when you are trying to do an inexpensive wedding in a short time (the wedding is July 22!) cotton is a good choice.

We also found a pattern that we loved! Rebekah is going to be making most of the dresses using this pattern with a couple of modifications.


Keep watching this blog for more updates!