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Beverly Varnado at One Ringing Bell

Beverly Varnado at One Ringing Bell

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Showing posts from May, 2016

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A Father's Gift

A father's love Father's Day father's love Heavenly Father one ringing bell Psalm 139:17-18 Steve Chitwood

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Backstory, the last chapter, and the answer at last

Angela Hunt backstory Memorial Day Philippians 1:3 Steve Chitwood

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Challenged by Joy

Derrick Kayongo Global Soap Project graduation James Edward Oglethorpe joy Nehemiah 8:10

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When you're waiting on a return

encouragement hope I Corinthians 3:6

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The Old Barbies

courage Legacy Mother's Day one ringing bell Philippians 1:3 The Old Barbies

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Click for my most recent book

In Search of the Painted Bunting is a poignant and perceptive portrait of a young girl struggling with timeless challenges. Cornelia Taylor is on a quest to find an exotic bird, the Painted Bunting. But, like all quests, her path does not go on a straight line. It branches out in unexpected ways as Cornelia navigates the turbulent 1960s, as well as the turbulence in her family and at school. The discoveries Cornelia makes and the lessons she learns along the way are just as relevant today. This story raises important questions for every reader. What is your Painted Bunting? What is your quest? And how does God speak to you and lead you along the twists and turns of your path? I highly recommend In Search of the Painted Bunting, as it explores the joys and heartbreaks of adolescence. It will inspire you to search for your own elusive Painted Bunting. - Doug Peterson, Author of over 40 VeggieTales books

Popular Posts

When you forget about rainbows

We have days of rain ahead of us here, and we are trying to keep in mind that the rainbow is coming. Metaphorically, when the rain is pouring, it’s also hard to keep in mind that the rainbow is coming. A song we used to sing often had a line about nothing comparing to the promise of God. And the rainbow is something that reminds us of God’s promise. Today an archived post on when we forget the rainbows. We were out of town watching our grandson’s first football game of the season. The afternoon had been cloud covered, and storms had rolled through areas around us. Our grandson’s team won, and after congratulations, we headed south to his school to pick him up from the bus. As we followed our GPS instructions, I realized we were nearing a place which held sad memories for our family. Now, the outcome of the problem that created those sad memories has had a marvelous resolution, but I still brace myself at the remembrances. Coming down the road, a twinkling of a rainbow...

When tragedy comes fast and furious

So, this is the second post I’ve written for today. The first sits idling on my computer. I have struggled to know what to write because tragedy has come fast and furious these last few days. We had just returned from the sparkling blue waters of the Atlantic Ocean a day before. Saturday morning, I was still thinking about those sun swept days as I took another bite of my eggs at breakfast. Jerry was on the phone in another room, and though I couldn't understand his words, somehow I knew something was going on. I put my fork down. He returned to the table. “What is it?” I asked. “I’ll tell you when you finish your breakfast,” he said. I didn’t pick up my fork. “It’s bad, isn’t it?” He nodded and knowing I wouldn’t finish eating, he said, “----- took her own life yesterday.” A Mom of four school-aged children. I slumped in my chair awash in the numb shock that comes over us when we hear this kind of ...

Tea Olives, Heaven, and Mom

Mom and I Mom, My sister Tammy, and I As I walked in my neighborhood last night, the distinctive fragrance of tea olives floated in the air and reminded me of a long-ago time. When my daughter was young, I would drop her off in the evening for gymnastics practice at a gym in a county park near our home. Then when my mom had a fall and came to a rehab facility here in our town, I would walk through the tea olive filled park to the facility to see my mother. After she had been here a few months, and could not recover, we discovered the reason for the fall was terminal cancer. I visited her several times a day, but each evening , I’d move from the intoxicating smell of the tea olives to that of the facility, which was not necessarily bad, but simply different. My mother didn’t want to be there. She wanted to be home. Who wouldn’t feel that way? But home hadn’t been a possibility for her in quite a while with so many difficult health issues. I felt helpless in the face of a cruel disease...

Beverly Varnado: Beverly Varnado writes from a desk with a view of woodpeckers, cardinals, chipmunks, and squirrels. Inside, cats prance across her keyboard and her dog, Lucy, slumbers beside her on a big pillow. When she's not writing, she's cleaning up after animals. She is a published author as well as a screenwriter, blogger, and artist. Her most recent book is a middle grade historical, In Search of the Painted Bunting from Elk Lake Publishing. Her blog, One Ringing Bell, has nearly 1,000 posts in its archives. Her work has been featured on World Radio, in the Upper Room Magazine, and in many other periodicals, anthologies, and online sites. She has been a finalist for the prestigious Kairos Prize in screenwriting and has other non-fiction and fiction books available. She also enjoys participating in gallery exhibits. She lives in North Georgia with her husband, Jerry, and is Mom to three and Mimi to two. Learn more at https://linktr.ee/BeverlyVarnado

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Labels

"Lincoln's Portrait"
1 Corinthians 13:8
1 Corinthians 6:19-20
1 John 1:7
1 Thessalonians 5:17
10
1000 Moms
15
1776
1880's Town

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