Love is #4

Love is

when he’s holding your hand

and struts down the street

like he’s a peacock in the zoo

because he’s got the smartest,

kindest,

prettiest

woman to call his wife

(and you know this is true

because he tells you

in so many ways

everyday).

(C) Sara Ackerman, 2017

 

Love is #3

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Love is

when he prefers sleeping hot

but still lets you put

 your icy hands on

his back.

(C) Sara Ackerman, 2017

 

Only light can chase away darkness; only love can conquer hate

I grew up in a Christian household. My father was a pastor. We went to church every Sunday and lived by the principle that love is more than a fruit of the spirit. It was also a way of life.

We never wanted for food, shelter or clothing, but I didn’t know until much later how tight the financial situation was at our home. Yet that didn’t stop my family from sharing our love with those in need. No  matter how stretched  my parents’ budget may have been, there was always food, clothing and support to be found at our house. Open pantry, open doors, open hearts. 

Is it any surprise, then, that I chose a profession in which I care for the ‘tired, the poor, and the huddled masses?’ Teaching immigrants has become more than a job; it’s a calling, and one that has filled my life with purpose and  joy. Recent events, though, have me a-tremble in equal parts rage and fear. Rage for the injustice and fear for those who I have come to call friends and family. 

In those dark moments when fear overrules reason, my husband and I have talked about moving with all the arrogance of those who have the money and the skill set to do so. But we know we can’t move. We have a responsibility to stay. We have a duty to serve. As we follow the principles our parents instilled in us, we stand firm and we will keep our doors and our hearts open to any in need. 

“Love your neighbor as yourself. There is no commandment greater than these.” Mark 12:31

(C) Sara Ackerman, 2017

 

 

World Wide Release Wednesday

Little White Lies ebook available as of today! It’s 50% off at Wild Rose Press, Amazon and Barnes and Noble. I’ll be available from 12:30-2:30 CST for live chat on my Facebook page. Stop on over at https://www.facebook.com/saraeackerman/ to chat. #TWRPLittle White Lies poster 16 ackerman

Birthday Give Away!

Because it’s my birthday (and I am very pleased to have received several copies of my debut novel, Little White Lies) I am giving away an autographed copy of my book to the 37th person to like my Facebook page today and today only! Stop on over at https://www.facebook.com/saraeackerman/ and check it out!

 

box of books

 

 

 

Stories from the Trenches: In which I almost become someone’s tia (Part 1)

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‘It is a truth universally acknowledged that a single woman in possession of hips as wide as the Panama Canal and knockers that could pass as cantaloupes must be in want of a husband.’–Jane Austen (er, as paraphrased by me)

Whenever I visited families, there was always a group of women whose curious brown eyes assessed me covertly, taking the measure of my character and noting the ample acreage of my hips. Upon discovering that I was a single mother, their eagerness to see me wed into their family only increased. Over time, their covert gazes turned into outright interrogation as these Latina mamas began a stealthy campaign to have me married to any eligible bachelor that lingered about their family tree. At first I thought I could easily evade their attempts at matchmaking–not ready to tie the knot quite yet–but I soon discovered that their methods rivaled those of any seasoned military officer.

Stage 1: The Interrogation

“So, maestra,” Maria, the mother of two of my high schoolers innocently asks, “you’re not married, are you?”

“No, I’m not married,” I respond. I notice a glance pass between Maria and Maria’s sister, Sofia. “Some day I’d like to be married, though.”

“You’ve dated before?” she continues a little more aggressively.

“Yes, I’ve dated before,” I say a bit defensively. “I’m just focusing on my career right now, not on my personal relationships.”

Maria smiles sweetly and continues to pry, “You do find Latino men attractive, no?”

I stare at her, mouth slightly agape, unsure of when the conversation took this turn.

Sensing my hesitation, Maria laughs lightly and leans toward me conspiratorially. “Oh, come now, maestra. We are all women here. You can tell us that you honestly think.”

“Yes maestra,” Sofia, chimes in with a sideways glance at her sister, “what do you think of our Latino men?”

Cautiously, I respond with what I hope is a diplomatic answer, “I find the Latino people to be a handsome people.”

Apparently not satisfied with my response, Maria walks to the bookshelf on the far side of the room and reaches for a well-worn photo album. Flipping through the pages, she finds what she is looking for and says rather impatiently, “Here, look at him.”

She hands me a photograph of a smiling Latino man standing next to her husband in a photo taken somewhere in Mexico. “Don’t you think he is a handsome man?” she asks smiling sweetly pointing to the photo in my hand.

Two can play this game, Maria, I think to myself. Smiling innocently at her, I reply, “Yes, your husband is a handsome man.” I point at photos of her children on the wall and add, “You have beautiful children, too.”

I can see she is beginning to lose patience with me but before she can demand another answer, her husband calls from the kitchen, “Maria, the timer!”

Gratefully, I use this distraction as an excuse to check my watch.

“Oh, my,” I say with feigned surprise. “It’s 4:12? Already? I really must be leaving for another appointment I just remembered I have.” With a polite smile and hurried good byes, I make it to my car and out of the parking lot in less than two minutes.

I ponder Maria’s strategy and think to myself, She’s good. But I won today.

Maria 0, me 1

Stay tuned for part 2 of “In which I almost become someone’s tia” and find out how Maria used foot soldiers (aka her children) to try and break down my defenses.

Remember to like this story on my page if you enjoyed it!

Head Hopping

As a new writer, I have received a lot of advice about head hopping, the practice of switching POV within a scene to better understand character emotions, ideas, motives, etc. I certainly have my on POV when it comes to head hopping, both as a reader and an author, but what do you think? Does it confuse you as a reader to have authors switch POV within a scene? Do you even care? Take my poll and let me know what you think, and then I’ll tell you my opinion on this contentious topic.