coffee and words, almost.

A happy summer Saturday to you!  Grab a cold brew coffee, sink into the couch and read for awhile.

Earlier this week, I found myself asleep while standing in a TSA line at a groggy 6am to catch a quick flight to Atlanta for the ICRS event - International Christian Retail Show.  I had no idea what those letters stood for either when my publisher sent me a flight itinerary for a quick day trip.  What a huge event it was!  Literary agents, publishers, authors, writers, freelancers, independent bookstore owners and plenty of others filled the event center to explore newly released books, films, music albums and so much more.  As I sat to begin signing copies of my book, I thought once again just why someone would want my sloppy marking, that'd be sure to make Hancock blush, adorn a book from an author they'd surely never heard of.  But alas, many copies were gladly signed and given.  I discovered that although I felt out of my element and a bit weird about the whole thing initially, I actually had an amazing time meeting people who asked about my book and even shared stories of loss from their own lives as they stood just feet away from me.  I look forward to more of these type of opportunities.

And before you get on with the link discovery, a note about ordering my book.  If you happened to order a physical copy of Earth and Sky from Amazon, please know that it could take up to a month for you to receive your order.  This, of course, is out of my control as it is my publisher who coordinates all order fulfillment from Amazon.  Please know that you can cancel your order if you placed an order at Amazon and order your copy directly at guydelcambre.com/earthandsky to get your order typically within 5-7 business days.  

And with that, here's what has been interesting to me this morning:

coffee and words, almost.

This week. As Dickens was penned, 'It was the best of times and the worst of times.' 

School ended to the joyous celebration of our kids. And with the end of school began good times. All packed up and ready for a summer week with grandma, the girls' eyes glimmered with the wonder of road trips and adventures that shape lasting memory. With the house empty and soon to be emptier, my wife decided to join me in Mexico City for a few days. I had a couple days of work while her plan was to unwind a bit amidst a lighter work load. My book, Earth and Sky, released while we were out of the country to plenty of encouragement from friends and family. It was an ultimate moment of accomplishment and welcome to a new world of writing. She lovingly sat near, the rain patting puddles in the street just next to our table. I nervously worked through words and emotions of just how the book releasing to the public felt - a weird mingling of success, relief and fear. As often, her listening to me was salvation. My thought speak can be quite demeaning. So over a cozy late evening dinner, she helps me out to dream about the next couple of project ideas circling in my head.

There will be more books. That makes me happy.

Mexico City was good for us.

And then the worst of times. Only back for 24 hours, I found myself back on a plane. This time I traveled alone as my travel schedule included an out and back flight in the same day. All went well until I arrived at the tiniest regional airport for my return flight to Dallas and found out that I missed my flight. The even worst - no more flights out until the next day. After scouring the web for any sort of solution to get me home, I found myself behind the wheel of one of the smallest cars I've ever driven. My foot to the floor, I was determined to keep our dinner date plans. Suffice to say, I made the trip in surely what the rental car lady would've considered record time to sit across the table from my lovely wife and recount the stressful adventure.

Which brings me to Saturday morning, coffee in hand, hoping to lift my sagging eyes.

Our daughters are returning tonight, and so, today is an all relaxation day. That being said, friends, here's a few reads that may bring some entertainment to your day, mid-day, that is. Happy Saturday, friends!!  

God's Grace, a Hunting Love.

(This article is an excerpt of from my book, Earth and Sky: A Beautiful Collision of Grace and Grief1.)

What if the way we think about God is wrong, tangled and twisted in our view of a cause-and-effect world?

What if God isn’t sitting unaffected on the other side?

What if God is closer than we can imagine and more present than we are aware?

What if God is right in the mess of where you think it must end for you, when your heart seizes with fear and night is longer than day?

What if reprieve glimmered real in your darkest night?

When the pain of life threatens to separate us from God, I would imagine most, like me, try to bridge that gap. We want to make sense of it, whether by judging God or justifying what He allows. But life doesn’t always make sense, nor does it happen according to plan. Easy answers don’t exist for every difficulty.

But a solution does. Grace. God’s grace . . . a hunting love.

It stands, a lighthouse shining in the dark, firm against absorbing and unrelenting waves, providing hope for lost souls. Grace is a calling to a safe harbor in the storm. Grace is an end to the beginning, a restart forevermore. When life unexpectedly bends and crushes and collapses, we forget who we are and how we got here. Grace guides, lifts, and finds. We are pursued by a hunting love, belonging to Him who created and sustains all creation. Difficulties force us to know Him at a different level. A deeper level . . . without the fluff, but stronger, richer, and more real.

I’ll never forget one morning while I was driving. Everything seemed to grow louder . . . the sound of the road, the morning traffic around me, the oddest thoughts and the familiar ones.

I felt far from life. I felt eerily close to death. I felt betrayed and abandoned.

READ MORE AT DEEPER STORY...

Too Far Beyond the End.

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THERE'S NO ART to beginning – you just do.  Clumsily, luckily, unsure or maybe mostly confident, or maybe in full ignorance, you find yourself too far beyond the end for it to possibly still be considered the end.  That’s just how it happened for me – too far beyond the end.

Swallowed by an ending, the spotlight quick faded before the curtains could even touch closed.  It’s absolutely isolating and frightening, both at the same time.

I am a survivor, but by no means at all is my story a tale of a self-made man who overcame great odds and bootstrapped to victory.  No, mine is a story of the kind of survivor who was found just wanting the end.  

Quite simply and never forgetting, the beginning found me. I should be duly clear here: the beginning was, and is, God.  And not god as in, a god or feeling or some self-sustaining resolute strength discovered within myself fueled by an ambiguous goodness somewhere out there, I thoroughly mean the Creator, Divine Trinity – Father, Son and Holy Ghost.  There is no forever blooming, never spoiling beginning outside of Him.  Understanding the psychology of grief and my breaking couldn’t nor wouldn’t get me to a new beginning.  Neither would time’s passing, which is such an empty lie to tell someone suffering the shock of loss or tragedy of life unraveling.  God in all of His regular might led me far, far beyond the end of my first wife’s death to the warmth of a day I could’ve never dreamt up in my best, undisturbed night of sleep.

Journal entries that pawed at death and ash in the form of spiraling questions, accusation and curses, discovered God’s welcome, even His beckon.  ‘Come to Me, all who are weary and heavy burdened,’ echoed determinedly in my sunken heart.  I came because He called to me and I had nowhere else to go.  My dreams, my hopes and my security – the life I built – lay ruined and left me without home.  That’s where I was found.  Those original journal entries grew into pages of words telling the grandest of stories of my finding, in the too far beyond the end.  Those pages piled into a book that I called, Earth and Sky.

Today, I celebrate the writing, but more so, the story.  It’s who I was, where I’ve been and who I’ve become.  I do hope you find the time to read my story.  It is one far greater than I could ever tell, one that will forever define me, for it was in those pages that I was truly born again.

coffee and words, almost.

Summer is officially here in the Delcambre house! All of the girls are finally finished with the school year and we couldn't be more excited about the summer schedule ...and the trips together. We also couldn't be prouder of each of our girls for how they handled so much change in one calendar year - new city, new house, new school, new friends, new blended family. Marissa and I sat together late into the evening recently and just marveled at God's strong grace active and aware in our lives.

And on top of it all, the book finally releases THIS week - JUNE 10th. Check it out here, if you haven't already. We'll be celebrating the book release quietly in Mexico.

Happy Saturday, friends!  

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Embrace a Break in Habit

NOT IN THE spontaneity of come-and-go inspired moments that ebb and flow based on time of day or mood, but in the regularity of embracing creativity do artists produce. Some wake up earlier than dawn while others work deep into the evening, and still, other creatives hone their craft throughout the day - what is common to the producing creative is schedule.

As a writer, I struggle with discipline and regularity far more than the writing itself. I always try to convince myself that if I lived an adventurous life similar to Hemingway, I too would write with an intimidating ferocity. My keyboard would fear me, and the many books written as a result would wall me in literary glory. The convincing and the glory don’t stand a chance pitted against a schedule filled with work deadlines, family commitments, rest - not to mention the countless other minor distractions given attention to.

During the writing of my book Earth and Sky I reached a point of creative drought. All my words written and phrasing sounded like a monotonous merging of the same idea stated the same way over and over and over again. I hated the sound of keystrokes and the feel of pen in hand as all my effort lacked the creative passion I first started out the book with. I fought for my regular writing schedule because everyone reinforced the necessary discipline. As a result, those early mornings were losing battles piling higher. And the book wasn’t being written.

We reach points when we need escape: from ourselves, and the effort given.

READ THE ENTIRE ARTICLE AT arthousedallas.com