Rambling Reads would like to thank Christian inspirational author, David N. Walker for stopping by the blog today.
The
feminist movement has caused some men to think of the term "strong
woman" as a bad thing, but this is not necessarily the case. A
strong woman doesn't necessarily go around trashing men or trying to
prove herself as superior to men.
In
fact, a truly strong woman has enough self-confidence and a good
enough self-image that she feels no need to justify herself. Just
like a truly strong man, she just goes about her own business—and
does so effectively enough that she needs no trumpets or press
releases, nor does she need to denigrate others in order to make
herself look better.
We
tend to think of the strong woman as an anomaly or the 20th and 21st
centuries, but this is also not true. There have been strong women
throughout history. Certainly the development of the West by the
early pioneers and later settlers of the 19th century required a lot
of strong women.
Where
would Lewis & Clark have been without Sacagawea? How about the
countless families that went west in covered wagons—could weak
women have accomplished this feat? They didn't have to try to
emasculate their husbands or make public spectacles of themselves to
show off their strength. They just did what they needed to do, no
matter how hard that may have been.
Such
a woman was Fancy, the lead character in my novella series of the
same name. She didn't seek to show off her strength or skills. She
merely accepted the hand dealt to her and proceeded to work her way
through whatever lay ahead.
When,
as a ten year-old, she saw her mother die giving birth to her baby
sister, she stepped up to the plate and shouldered the primary
responsibility for running the household and raising her sister. She
took all that pressure off her father so he could devote his time and
energy to operating their farm and keeping the wolf away from the
door.
When
her father answered the call to support the confederacy by joining
the army, she took over the farming, too. Now she was mother, father,
housewife and provider. She accepted all this without complaint and
just set out to do whatever was necessary to succeed at it.
Read
about this wonderful girl/woman and not only her response to the
immediate situation, but also her growth as she made her way in life
over the next couple of decades. Fancy
begins as she fills in for her soldier/father. The rest of the series
follows her as she grows and meets the future. Click here
for more information about the story and how to order your copies of
the books in this series.
*~*~*~*Comment for the chance to win a copy of his novella Fancy*~*~*~*
David
N. Walker is a Christian husband, father and grandfather, a grounded
pilot, a would-be Nashville star, and a near-scratch golfer who had
to give up the game because of shoulder problems. A graduate of Duke
University, he spent 42 years as a health insurance agent. Most of
that career was spent in Texas, but for a few years he traveled many
other states.
He
started writing about 20 years ago and has been a member and leader
in several writers' groups. Two of his books, the devotional Heaven
Sent and the
novella Fancy,
are now available in paperback and in Kindle and Nook formats. Click
here for
more information and links to purchase these books.
David
is currently working the Fancy series. Both Fancy
and Fancy:
The Search - Vol 2
are now out, and others will follow every couple of months or so.
Excerpt:
On a late July afternoon, she
watched from the barn as a rider approached. She received few
visitors, and this man's sudden appearance gave her a sense of
foreboding. She grabbed her shotgun, hiding it in a fold of her
skirt, and stepped out to meet him.
“May I help you sir?”
“Are you Clara Faye Greene?”
“Yes.” She wondered who
this man was and what he wanted with her.
“Telegram, ma’am.” He
walked his horse over and handed an envelope to her. Then he reined
his horse around and rode away.
She returned to the barn and
leaned her shotgun against the wall next to the door. Her hands
trembled as she tore the envelope open. “No.” She didn’t even
hear herself scream. “No. They’re mistaken.”
She re-read the telegram
telling her that her father had been killed in a battle at some place
called Manassas Junction.
“What wrong?” Danni came
running to the barn from where she’d been playing out in the yard.
Fancy ignored her and began
pacing up and down the hay-strewn floor. “They made a mistake.
That’s what it is. It can’t be true.”
“What, Fancy?” Danni
grabbed her sister’s arm.
“Go on back out and play,
honey. I’ll tell you about it later.”
Danni didn’t budge. She just
stood looking at her sister.
“Go on.” Fancy shooed her
away. “Go on and play.”
Danni finally left, although
Fancy sensed her reluctance to do so.
“Damn those Yankees.”
Fancy’s denial turned into anger. “They try to force us to do
what they want, and then they kill our men. Damn them. I hope they
all go to hell.”
She walked out into the field,
screaming obscenities about war in general and Yankees in particular,
shaking her fist as she went. Suddenly she looked upward, shook her
fist toward heaven and cried out, “Where were you God?
She began to sob. “Why
didn’t you protect my daddy? Why did you let him die? We’re
supposed to trust you, but where were you then?”
Fancy was only vaguely aware
of the setting sun as she continued to walk and rant. She had no idea
how long Danni had been calling to her when she finally heard her. Oh
God, it’s getting dark. Danni must be scared to death.
“I’m coming, Danni. Stay
where you are.” She didn’t know what she was going to tell the
child. She wasn’t sure how she would take it. “God, you didn’t
protect my daddy. Please at least protect my little sister. Don’t
let her fall to pieces when I tell her.”
She could hardly keep her mind
on what she was doing as she went through the motions of preparing
and eating supper. After they finished, she left the kitchen in a
mess and took Danni across the room into the living area, where she
sat in the old rocking chair and pulled Danni into her lap.
Thanks for hosting me today, Amelia.
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