Tag Archives: love

Book Review: My LOVE for You is the Sun – by Julie F. Hedlund

 

 

 

 

 


Book: My LOVE for You is the Sun
Author: Julie Hedlund
Illustrator: Susan Eaddy
Publisher: Little Bahalia Publishing
Date: September 9, 2014
Genre: children's picture book 
Pages: 24; hardcover
Price: $17.99
My rating: a sweet, sentimental story with remarkable 
illustrations

 

My LOVE for You is the Sun by Julie Hedlund is a joy to read. Every page is full of sweetness and eye candy. Julie Hedlund‘s words and Susan Eaddy‘s illustrations combine to make this a book to treasure. With Mother’s Day coming up in three days this seemed an appropriate book to review today.

The first thing you’ll notice is the size of the book. It’s produced with the pages wider, which gives the reader a more wide view to enjoy. Next is the cheerful face of the sun and then you see that the illustrations were made from clay.

My LOVE for You is the Sun is written in rhyme. Each beautiful two-page spread has three lines of verse, the first line makes a statement, the next two lines rhyme and expound upon the first. The exception is the last verse which has four lines with the second and fourth rhyming. Example: My love for you is the sun. Rising in your tender heart, It shines on you when we’re apart. From there with each page turn you discover more about what a parent’s (or guardian’s) love is: a tree, a river, the rain, the wind, the snow, the ocean, a star – each bringing comfort and reassurance to the child.

This is a smartly written story. With no extra words, no words missing, the nature setting makes very clear the love for the child. 

I have to again mention the illustrations. The detail is amazing! Take a look at the video I’m including and see if this does not further entice you to buy or borrow a copy of My LOVE for You is the Sun.

You can find My LOVE for You is the Sun by Julie Hedlund on my BUY THE BOOK page. I also post my reviews on Amazon.com, Amazon.ca, Goodreads, and sometimes Chapters.Indigo.

Comments are very much appreciated on my book reviews. Is there anything you’d like to say to Julie or Susan about their work on this book? (just in case they stop by)

Thanks for reading, and … Creative Musings!  🙂

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Christmas ads already, here’s a sweet one

Although folks in the US have yet to celebrate Thanksgiving (here in Canada we celebrated in October), the Christmas ads have started already. I found a special one to show you.

I think you will really like this one by Marks and Spencer; it’s so sweet.

How do you feel about Christmas ads being aired before the season has officially started?

Thanks for reading, and … Creative Musings!  🙂

 

Three Rights Make a Left – article by Michael Gartner

A friend sent me this article that I am sharing with you for your enjoyment. Written by Michael Gartner, editor of newspapers large and small, former president of NBC News, and 1997 winner of the Pulitzer Prize for editorial writing, 
it’s called …     Three Rights Make a Left        – by Michael Gartner

My father never drove a car. Well, that’s not quite right. I should say I never saw him drive a car.

He quit driving in 1927, when he was 25 years old, and the last car he drove was a 1926 Whippet.

“In those days,” he told me when he was in his 90s, “to drive a car you had to do things with your hands, and do things with your feet, and look every which way, and I decided you could walk through life and enjoy it or drive through life and miss it.”

At which point my mother, a sometimes salty Irishwoman, chimed in:  “Oh, bull shit!” she said. “He hit a horse.”

“Well,” my father said, “there was that, too.”

So my brother and I grew up in a household without a car. The neighbors all had cars — the Kollingses next door had a green 1941 Dodge, the VanLaninghams across the street a gray 1936 Plymouth, the Hopsons two doors down a black 1941 Ford — but we had none.

My father, a newspaperman in Des Moines, would take the streetcar to work and, often as not, walk the 3 miles home. If he took the streetcar home, my mother and brother and I would walk the three blocks to the streetcar stop, meet him and walk home together.

My brother, David, was born in 1935, and I was born in 1938, and sometimes, at dinner, we’d ask how come all the neighbors had cars but we had none. “No one in the family drives,” my mother would explain, and that was that.

But, sometimes, my father would say, “But as soon as one of you boys turns 16, we’ll get one.” It was as if he wasn’t sure which one of us would turn 16 first.

But, sure enough, my brother turned 16 before I did, so in 1951 my parents bought a used 1950 Chevrolet from a friend who ran the parts department at a Chevy dealership downtown.

It was a four-door, white model, stick shift, fender skirts, loaded with everything, and, since my parents didn’t drive, it more or less became my brother’s car.

Having a car but not being able to drive didn’t bother my father, but it didn’t make sense to my mother.

So in 1952, when she was 43 years old, she asked a friend to teach her to drive. She learned in a nearby cemetery, the place where I learned to drive the following year and where, a generation later, I took my two sons to practice driving. The cemetery probably was my father’s idea. “Who can your mother hurt in the cemetery?” I remember him saying more than once.

For the next 45 years or so, until she was 90, my mother was the driver in the family. Neither she nor my father had any sense of direction, but he loaded up on maps — though they seldom left the city limits — and appointed himself navigator. It seemed to work.

Still, they both continued to walk a lot. My mother was a devout Catholic, and my father an equally devout agnostic, an arrangement that didn’t seem to bother either of them through their 75 years of marriage.

(Yes, 75 years, and they were deeply in love the entire time.)

He retired when he was 70, and nearly every morning for the next 20 years or so, he would walk with her the mile to St. Augustin’s Church.  She would walk down and sit in the front pew, and he would wait in the back until he saw which of the parish’s two priests was on duty that morning. If it was the pastor, my father then would go out and take a 2-mile walk, meeting my mother at the end of the service and walking her home.

If it was the assistant pastor, he’d take just a 1-mile walk and then head back to the church. He called the priests “Father Fast” and “Father Slow.”

After he retired, my father almost always accompanied my mother whenever she drove anywhere, even if he had no reason to go along. If she were going to the beauty parlor, he’d sit in the car and read, or go take a stroll or, if it was summer, have her keep the engine running so he could listen to the Cubs game on the radio. In the evening, then, when I’d stop by, he’d explain: “The Cubs lost again.  The millionaire on second base made a bad throw to the millionaire on first base, so the multimillionaire on third base scored.”

If she were going to the grocery store, he would go along to carry the bags out — and to make sure she loaded up on ice cream. As I said, he was always the navigator, and once, when he was 95 and she was 88 and still driving, he said to me, “Do you want to know the secret of a long life?”

“I guess so,” I said, knowing it probably would be something bizarre.

“No left turns,” he said.

“What?” I asked.

“No left turns,” he repeated. “Several years ago, your mother and I read an article that said most accidents that old people are in happen when they turn left in front of oncoming traffic. As you get older, your eyesight worsens, and you can lose your depth perception, it said. So your mother and I decided never again to make a left turn.”

“What?” I said again.

“No left turns,” he said. “Think about it. Three rights are the same as a left, and that’s a lot safer. So we always make three rights.”

“You’re kidding!” I said, and I turned to my mother for support.

“No,” she said, “your father is right. We make three rights. It works.” But then she added: “Except when your father loses count.”

I was driving at the time, and I almost drove off the road as I started laughing.

“Loses count?” I asked.

“Yes,” my father admitted, “that sometimes happens. But it’s not a problem. You just make seven rights, and you’re okay again.”

I couldn’t resist. “Do you ever go for 11?” I asked.

“No,” he said. ” If we miss it at seven, we just come home and call it a bad day. Besides, nothing in life is so important it can’t be put off another day or another week.”

My mother was never in an accident, but one evening she handed me her car keys and said she had decided to quit driving. That was in 1999, when she was 90.

She lived four more years, until 2003. My father died the next year, at 102.

They both died in the bungalow they had moved into in 1937 and bought a few years later for $3,000. (Sixty years later, my brother and I paid $8,000 to have a shower put in the tiny bathroom — the house had never had one. My father would have died then and there if he knew the shower cost nearly three times what he paid for the house.)

He continued to walk daily — he had me get him a treadmill when he was 101 because he was afraid he’d fall on the icy sidewalks but wanted to keep exercising — and he was of sound mind and sound body until the moment he died.

One September afternoon in 2004, he and my son went with me when I had to give a talk in a neighboring town, and it was clear to all three of us that he was wearing out, though we had the usual wide-ranging conversation about politics and newspapers and things in the news.

A few weeks earlier, he had told my son, “You know, Mike, the first hundred years are a lot easier than the second hundred.”

At one point in our drive that Saturday, he said, “You know, I’m probably not going to live much longer.”

“You’re probably right,” I said.

“Why would you say that?” He countered, somewhat irritated.

“Because you’re 102 years old,” I said.

“Yes,” he said, “you’re right.” He stayed in bed all the next day.

That night, I suggested to my son and daughter that we sit up with him through the night.

He appreciated it, he said, though at one point, apparently seeing us look gloomy, he said: “I would like to make an announcement. No one in this room is dead yet.”

An hour or so later, he spoke his last words:
“I want you to know,” he said, clearly and lucidly, “that I am in no pain. I am very comfortable. And I have had as happy a life as anyone on this earth could ever have.”

A short time later, he died.

I miss him a lot, and I think about him a lot. I’ve wondered now and then how it was that my family and I were so lucky that he lived so long. I can’t figure out if it was because he walked through life, or because he quit taking left turns.

Life is too short to wake up with regrets. So love the people who treat you right. Forget about the ones who don’t. Believe everything happens for a reason. If you get a chance, take it & if it changes your life, let it. Nobody said life would be easy, they just promised it would most likely be worth it.

Any comments on this? Does it bring something to mind you’d like to share with us?

Thanks for reading, and … Creative Musings!  🙂
PS – remember to enter the draw for my giveaway that takes place July 13!

More change; Valley Sunshine

Starting near the end of last year and continuing in January of this year I shared with you my thoughts and other people’s quotes regarding CHANGE.  I felt there was marked change going to occur – specifically, but not only, in my own life.

2016 is definitely shaping up to be my year of change.

A long chapter of my life ended this week. It was so hard to let it go.

When I was in my early 30’s, and the mother of three young children (a fourth born later), I started a friendship newsletter – called Valley Sunshine – that quickly turned into a Christian one which developed into a type of ministry. I started with about three dozen ‘members’, a number that rapidly increased to over 500 worldwide! It was phenomenal to me. That’s with no advertising except word-of-mouth, except for a few mentions in others’ newsletters. (Once there was a half page article in the provincial newspaper about me/Valley Sunshine!) For over ten years that continued – run on donations – no subscription fee, with mail coming to me almost daily from all over the world, occasional phone calls, and a surprise package now and again. It was like a huge family of friends who encouraged one another. I know the Lord touched lives through that little homegrown publication; it was my joy to be part of it, and I look forward to one day knowing all He did through that humble publication. With the passing of my mother (my greatest “fan”), I took a long break from VS publishing.  A few years ago I started it up again on a much smaller scale by subscription as requested. (It remained non-profit.) Finally, this week, I sent the final issue out. It was a hard decision to come to, but a necessary one. Trying to compile that last issue I mourned the loss of this connection with people I’d grown to love, this change of calling on my life, the hard choices; however, eventually I sensed the relief of admitting it’s done – it’s run its course. I still feel the loss, and I will for a long time. But …

It’s time to allow change in my life to have its own space.

As a caregiver one’s time is used very differently, it’s taxed in a way one does not expect. The things that used to be easily addressed cannot be handled the same way. I had to accept it was time to let change happen and allow the Lord to redirect my life.

Writing in other ways has floated to the top of my life. As you may know, I’ve been interested in writing for MANY years, have taken courses and participated in various online writer’s groups. Now I’m working on children’s stories again. I have a writing coach/buddy. I’m a member of an online critique group, and recently joined an in-person writer’s group (mixed writing genres) that meets once a week. I’m a member of 12×12 and participate in PiBoIdMo and ReFoReMo. All these things are intended to help me learn and improve. Life is still busy. Writing is a huge part of that for me.

Now I’ve told you much more than I had intended to when I started this post. I was going to give you a fun quiz to do, and the above was going to be the lead-in. It just grew and grew!  Next post will be the quiz. 🙂

Much love to you.

What’s the hardest thing you’ve had to let go because it’s time so that you can move on to other things in your creative life?

Thanks for reading, and … Creative Musings!  🙂

Love quote #29 of 29

NOT ALL OF US HAVE TO POSSESS EARTHSHAKING TALENT.

JUST COMMON SENSE AND LOVE WILL DO.

  • Myrtle Auvil, American writer

 

Any thoughts on this quote?

I hope you have found some favorites among the twenty-nine days of quotes, or perhaps you have a new favourite now. It’s been fun sharing these with you all month. Now we’ll drop back to one or two posts a week, but I do plan to find the occasional quote for you. Probably some on spring would be nice, with spring less than three weeks away now. yay!

What was your favourite of all the quotes in February? 

1 John 4:19 – We love because He first loved us.

Thanks for reading, and … Creative Musings!  🙂 

Love quote #28 of 29

FOR A CROWD IS NOT COMPANY; AND FACES ARE BUT A GALLERY OF PICTURES; AND TALK BUT A TINKLING CYMBAL, WHERE THERE IS NO LOVE.

  • Francis Bacon, English philosopher

 

Any thoughts on this quote?

 

1 Corinthians 13:1 – If I speak in the tongues of men and of angels, but have not love, I am only a resounding gong or a clanging cymbal.

Today is my Christian birthday, my special day. On this date 34 years ago my life began anew, and I stepped into everlasting Life.  ♥

Thanks for reading, and … Creative Musings!  🙂

 

Love quote #27 of 29

LOVE IS NOT JUST LOOKING AT EACH OTHER, IT’S LOOKING IN THE SAME DIRECTION.

  • Antoine De Saint-Exupery, French aviator and writer

 

Any thoughts on this quote?

 

Hebrews 10:24 – And let us consider how we may spur one another on toward love and good deeds.

Thanks for reading, and … Creative Musings!  🙂