Ginger Garrett

With summer in swing, a lot of us are looking for a way to boost energy and mood…minus the price tag of Starbucks or the side effects of drugs.

Recent studies confirm that adding two foods into your diet may do just that: powdered greens and maca root. Powdered green foods supplements include my favorite, Vega Smoothie Infusion, which is a blend of organic green foods such as kale and spinach. It tastes much better than other greens powders and mixes well in juice. It’s rich in vitamins, minerals and iron, and antioxidants. If you’re not getting your veggies every day, this is one way to fill the gap. As an added bonus, studies show that women who consume the most antixodants are also the women who stay younger looking than their peers. Preventing wrinkles isn’t just about remembering your sunscreen: it matters what you eat, too.

The second superfood, Maca  root, comes from Peru and is available as a pill or powder. Studies confirm that it appears to boost energy, well being, and reduce anxiety and depression, particularly in older women. Brendan Brazier, professional triathlete, swears by it for post workout recovery. You can buy both at

http://sequelnaturals.com 

If you try either, let me know how you like them. I am currently using both products while I keep up a crazy writing schedule over the summer. In addition to wrapping up the Scribe series, I am prepping Chosen for re-release, and writing a new teen romance. With three kids at home and four books in the works, you can see why I need the extra energy!

Enjoy the summer sun,

Ginger

Beauty is a feeling. We buy products to feel it. We dress to feel it. And the number one reason we don’t feel it is not because we bought the wrong thing or wore the wrong dress. It’s because we think the wrong thoughts.

When we see another woman, our first response is usually to compare ourselves to her.  We judge ourselves by her appearance. Often, we’re on the losing end of the equation. She might have better hair, longer legs, whiter teeth, or a thinner body. And we silently berate ourselves for falling short, again.

The danger in comparing ourselves to other women is a physical danger, not just an emotional hazard. If we do not have deep connections with other women, if we are not able to be authentic and resist the urge to compare, we’ll shorten our life span. As my friend Shelley Hendrix says, we become competitors instead of companions.

But if we ca live as companions, if we can stop comparing ourselves to our sisters, there are unexpected rewards. Harvard’s Nurses study proved that women with deep friendships with other women cut their risk of death from all causes over a nine year period by over fifty percent.

God designed women to need other women. Without each other, we wither. Without each other, we die too young. Staying connected literally feeds our cells and our spirits. So learning to break the comparison habit will not only make you feel beautiful, it can alter the course of your life. It can alter the course of the world.

The next time you see another woman, do not let yourself think, “Look what she has that I don’t!”

Instead, say to yourself, “What does she need that I have?”

Practice the art of lovingkindness to other women, even the women who seem to have gotten everything you need and want. Live in peace by letting go of comparisons. A woman at peace with herself, at peace with other women, is a powerful woman. She has a beauty that cannot be bought, a beauty that transcends appearances, a beauty that feeds her spirit, her friendships, and her future.

May you be that woman!

Jaclyn M. wins two poolside-approved paperback versions of In The Shadow of Lions. These are the new mass market size, which is a smaller, thicker version of the original.

As we get closer to the release of the next novel (in which many questions will be answered!) you’ll want to be sure you’re signed up on the mailing list. I have a “Build Your Own Knight” kit to give away, so you can produce your very own knight in shining armor.  Alas, this one will be of no use in taking out the trash, which so many modern knights do, but he is still pretty to look at. And speaking for myself, sometimes that’s half the battle!

And on a personal note: I just returned today from my first official adventure since surgery to repair a torn ankle tendon. It was glorious! I have learned so much from this surgery, including how to appreciate the gift of walking, and how to slide down the stairs on your rear end, without picking up too much speed, or carpet burns. Most important to the technique is to finish your coffee before sliding down the stairs with your mug. Trust me.

I’m editing two novels and writing another. My brain should be fried, but being couch-bound has its advantages. Not many, actually, but at least I am able to get more writing done while my ankle heals. Now I will be waiting for galleys to come back on both books while I wrap up the new novel.

Getting the galleys back is the worst part of the publishing process. Galleys are the first time you get to see your book after edits, just before it goes to the presses. The hateful thing about galleys is that you realize the book is over, and it isn’t everything you dreamed of. Yet, it’s the best you could do for that moment in time. It’s like getting to relive your past only to realize you can’t really do anything different, even though you are wiser now.

If any of you dream of becoming a writer, just know that it’s okay to start and not like what you write. You’ll spend a lot of time not liking what you write. But if it’s the best you can do for today, then learn to let it go. I wish I could learn to apply this same lesson to life!

After being bedridden following tendon surgery on my ankle/calf, I was granted a walking cast yesterday afternoon. Praise God for the littlest comforts that I am enjoying again: pouring myself a cup of coffee (or four cups, to be truthful), going to Wal Mart for a quick errand, and meeting my kids for lunch at school. Ahhh…..

Of course, my coach turned back to a pumpkin and I had to be back on the couch by 2pm to get the swelling down, so here I am.

Sunday I’ll be at the Canton Festival of the Arts  in Canton, Georgia hosting a panel on Inspirational Writing with River Jordan, Karen Spears Zacharias, and Cathy Lee Phillips.

If you’re in the area, and don’t mind a little rain, please come share a few hours with us. I’ll be signing copies of Beauty Secrets of the Bible, which is a title that may mislead. It’s not only based on ancient remedies and rituals used in biblical days, including those Queen Esther most likely used in her harem days, it’s a book that examines a radical, rich expression of beauty. Ancient beliefs about beauty, particularly in the Jewish culture, challenge us to acknowledge that whatever we do in the name of physical beauty will have a spiritual impact. We often pursue beauty because we want to be loved and accepted, but the deeper story is that we can pursue beauty as a means to honor those we love.

I’ll also bring my new historical novel based on the life of Anne Boleyn, a martyr for women’s literacy and our right to read the Bible. She died, in large part, to give us the right to read. It’s a story that is often not told, because it’s more “fun” to imagine her sleeping around at court. But she didn’t, and if you ever wanted to know the truth about this enigmatic woman, the novel might be just a little bit of light.

Hope to see you all there–and if you come, look for the redhead with a limp!

One more week to go until I am off bedrest and get a walking cast! I had a ruptured ankle tendon repaired last week, with a scar that runs up the foot into the calf. Not so pretty. But the pain is manageable, and I can’t help but think that an entire summer spent elevating my leg will pay some wonderful dividends. Maybe I’ll finish my next novel ahead of schedule, or write a new nonfiction, or just get my emotional batteries recharged.

This past year I’ve done everything I could to avoid sitting. I cooked, cleaned, ran half marathons and competed in triathlons, ate, and worked. OK, to be truthful,  I mainly ate! I didn’t sit. If I did, frustration would eat me alive. (Which is in itself a long story, best to be avoided here. Suffice it to say it’s publishing related.) Thank God (I mean that!) for the blessing of traveling the country talking to women’s groups. Listening to your stories, holding hands as women shared their heartaches and hopes: this is what has kept me going. I am in awe of the strength and beauty of the women I’ve met. I could sit and be still when I was listening to one of you.

So now while I am a prisoner of my couch, I am hoping God has something in store for this season of sitting. Maybe a new idea, a change of heart, a fresh start? I have to believe that I’ve spent a year or more running away from the silence, trying not to feel the frustrations, and yet here I am, stuck. I feel like Jonah or perhaps Jacob. Either way, I know there’s going to be a good story in all of this. Let’s hope it doesn’t include any wild animals vomiting me up.

Thanks so much for your prayers and concern. Next Thursday I get my walking cast, so at least I can get out a little every day, like going to the mailbox. My ladies know: God tends to speak to me in the mailbox!

I am about to leave for the hospital for ankle surgery and will be offline all this week. I disabled comments because too much spam was coming through but you can always send an email through my regular address. The button is somewhere around here on the screen.

Be well and know you are loved!

Chosen: The Lost Diaries of Queen Esther is slated for re-release in Spring of 2010. That’s less than a year away, friends, which in the publishing world is considered light-speed.

Many of you have been asking why Chosen is not for sale anymore, unless you want to shell out up to a hundred bucks for a used copy. That’s because the book did very well when it was put out by a small publisher, who then decided novels were not their thing. A larger publisher gobbled up the book and it went off the market while the new edition is being prepared.

If you own a copy of Chosen, save it! It’s gaining value as a first edition. If you want a copy, well, read something else for now. May I suggest In The Shadow of Lions?

And now for a local Atlanta announcement:

FOR IMMEDIATE RELEASE

On Thursday,  April 30, beginning at 4:00 PM, the Carta Bella shop in Vickery Village in Cumming, Georgia will be hosting a Girlfriends Night Out, featuring a Trunk Show by cinda b and a book signing by author, Ginger Garrett:

Trunk Show - Meet Cinda Boomershine, founder and designer of cinda b bags and accessories. Cinda b, an

About Cinda Boomershine:

A love for color and design led

Book signing and Informational Lecture – Local author Ginger Garrett will show women how to get started journaling. Whether your goal is to record your memoirs, enrich your relationships, or record family milestones, journaling is an inexpensive, fun hobby. Best of all, it doesn’t have to be intimidating. All you need is a journal and a pen, and Ginger will show you what—and how—to write. Ginger will also be available to personalize her books.

About Ginger Garrett:

Ginger Garrett is the author of several critically acclaimed books. Ginger’s first novel, Chosen: The Lost Diaries of Queen Esther, was a finalist for the ECPA Book Award, recognizing it as one of the top five inspirational novels for 2006. Ginger was also nominated for the Georgia Author of the Year Award for her novel Dark Hour.

Ginger is a popular speaker at women’s events, and a frequent radio and television guest. Ginger has been interviewed by media across the country including

About Carta Bella:

Carta Bella opened in June, 2006 at

Carta Bella’s gift items include lines from Chamilia, Switchflops, cinda b, Lollia, and Staxx Jewelry to name a few. Carta Bella has beautiful selection of tabletop items from Casafina, Nora Fleming, Place Tile  – great for all occasions!

My nine year old son James ran into the kitchen to call his best friend.

“Mom!” my son yelled. “Get in here fast! The phone is doing something weird!”

I ran in, expecting it to be on fire, given my son’s track record with appliances.

“Listen!” he said, holding it out so I could hear. “It’s going ‘boop boop boop’!”

“That’s a busy signal,” I said.

“What’s a busy signal?” he asked.

“In the days before you were born,” I began, “there was no such thing as call waiting. Or voice mail. When you called someone and they were on the phone, that’s the sound you heard. It meant the line was busy.”

James stared at me like I was an embarassment to the twenty-first century.

“Well,” he said after a minute, still holding the phone. “What do I do?”

“You hang up. And you call again in ten minutes.”

James thinks I lived through the Dark Ages. The idea of having three channels on TV and having to read a map are barbaric concepts. Sigh.

On another note, last week I did three signings and appearances. I love talking to readers. You are all much smarter than me, and I learn something at every event. Last week, one person asked me, “How do you do it? How do you keep writing books about believers when you study church history and know all those horrible things Christians have done?”

I don’t think I could form the answer until I had more time and a lot more coffee. The truth is, I am never surprised or sidetracked by the ugliness of humanity. I see it only in my peripheral vision. I write because I am pursuing a man who rose from the dead. I write as a way of following in His footsteps, wanting to see Him, wanting to know His secrets. To know that there is a God who saw all this ugliness in us, the abuse and torture and lies, and was willing to lay down on a cross so we could drive the nails of our sickness deep into His flesh, I know that our sickness did not stop Him from loving us.

And I certainly won’t let it stop me from loving Him.

“He’s not there anymore, kids. That’s just his body. One day we’ll see him again, and he’ll be healthy and strong.”My children stared at the frail frame lying in the coffin. Their grandfather, Papa Craig, had died of Lou Gehrig’s Disease. James, my 9 year old son, looked at me and nodded. He believed my words, and so did his sisters, seven-year-old Elise and five-year-old Lauren—but did they understand them? Could children this young really grasp the idea of heaven, the hope that one day Papa Craig would run to them, whole and healthy, and there would be no more sorrow?How could I help little children to understand heaven when I still had questions about it? Although I make my living as a novelist, words completely failed me at that moment. I felt I had failed my children, too.            We returned home from the funeral and life resumed, as it always does, frantic and furious, one season racing into the next, my days a blur of deadlines and carpools. Only sometimes, when I slept with my windows open and my bed was lit by a thousand stars beyond my reach, only then would I contemplate heaven and its mysteries. Only then would I return to the heartache of believing in a heaven I couldn’t fully describe to my children.“What’s wrong with Grendel, mommy?” little Lauren asked. I glanced up from my computer to see our fifteen year old Bearded Collie stagger and fall as he tried to get to the back door. He had never done this before. My stomach tightened and I bit my lip. I always knew Grendel would not be with us forever but I had dreaded this moment. I had adopted Grendel when he was a puppy and I was still single. It was Grendel who had picked out a husband for me at a party: Grendel had spied Mitch and jumped into his lap, refusing all evening to budge. I knew Mitch had to be special if my dog was so crazy over him. After Mitch and I married and began our family, my son would dress Grendel up as a Darth Vader and grab a Light Saber, both of them playing for hours before coming inside to steal cookies while I typed. When my girls came along, Grendel was often invited to tea parties, although my girls claimed he had no manners, eating too quickly and belching after cucumber sandwiches. “I’m sorry,” our vet Dr. Jan said over the phone. I had called, trying not to cry, detailing Grendel’s symptoms. “It sounds like Grendel has had a spinal embolism. It’s an event he will not be able to recover from.” Before I hung up, I made an appointment for that afternoon to bring Grendel in for euthanasia.Once again, I found myself explaining heaven to my children, and explaining that death wasn’t the real end for any of us, including God’s creatures. “Please, God,” I prayed, “I don’t have the words they need. Please show them what heaven is. Help my children to understand.”We drove to the vet’s, Grendel in my lap to feel the breeze on last time on his face. When we arrived at the clinic, Mitch lifted Grendel out of the van and onto the ground. Sobbing, we all held hands and thanked God for giving us so many years with this incredible, and incredibly silly, dog that we loved so much. Then as my husband carried Grendel up the stairs into the clinic, my children began wailing.“Just one more day, Daddy! Please! Give us one more day with Grendel!” I could barely breathe I was crying so hard. The children grew so distraught that after Mitch carried Grendel inside, he turned and took the kids home. “We started this adventure together, buddy,” I whispered to Grendel, “and now it’s just us again. Wait for me on the other side, ok?”Dr. Jan, had the room ready for us: dim lights, a quilt on the floor so I could lie down with Grendel as they gave him the injection, and his “deceased pet” paperwork printed. Dr. Jan came in and kneeled down to look at Grendel, ruffling his furry head, and then she gasped.“We’re not putting him down today! This isn’t an embolism, Ginger—it’s an ear infection!”  A severe middle ear infection had caused Grendel to become dizzy and lose his coordination. Dr. Jan gave him a huge injection of steroids and antibiotics as I called my husband, choking out the news. Grendel began an immediate, dramatic recovery.I will never forget seeing my husband drive up the hill to the clinic, and seeing my kids throw open the van doors, racing and screaming and cheering towards the clinic—and Grendel bounding out to meet them, grinning ear to ear under all that hair.God did what I could not: he spoke in language that my children understood, the language of love between a child and a dog. God made heaven real to them, to us all, in that moment. Earth is when we weep for the pain of death, barely able to stand our hearts breaking, and heaven is that moment when the doors are thrown open and we run, whole and healthy, screaming and laughing, wild with joy, racing straight for each other’s arms.