Monday, November 28, 2016

Gold and the Yellow Brick Road


A man tried to sell a one‑ounce Maple Leaf on a beach in a prominent section of town. 

"Will you buy this gold coin for $50?" 

"No, I don't have any money."

He approached a woman, "Would you like this Canadian coin for only $25?

"No."

"Why not?"

"I don't have $25."

"Suppose I offer this to you for free, will you take it?"

The woman turned it over and examined it.

"It's beautiful."

"Do you want it?"

"No."

No one recognized the value of the coin worth over $1,100. Have we become so fooled by paper money that we believe the counterfeit is worth more than gold? 



A look at history might reveal a clue. During the Great Depression, governments around the world abandoned the gold standard. In 1933, Congress and President Roosevelt banned private ownership of gold and asked citizens to turn in their gold at the rate $35 per troy ounce-essentially robbing Americans of their wealth. 

Although it became legal to own it again in the 1970's, the money changers (Federal Reserve Bank and central banks) suppressed its value to bolster the dollar and manipulated the system to their advantage.

Gold became worth less than the counterfeit because it was not considered currency. This enabled the Federal Reserve and the central banks around the world to control the vast money supply.

Gold, a precious metal, has been used by man since ancient times for commerce. He recognized it for what it was-rare and valuable; but today, gold can't even be identified on a beach by passersby.



The yellow brick road in "The Wizard of Oz" symbolized gold. It carved its way through a beautiful fairyland called Oz inhabited by Munchkins, but the fabled Land of Oz was overshadowed by evil witches. Perhaps today they would represent the self-serving money-changers, the greedy capitalists, or the Washington bureaucrats who recklessly spend our money but are mortgaging our children's future.

While counterfeits abound, God never abandons the true believer. The Good Witch of the North, Glenda, loved the Munchkins. God has given us His Holy Spirit.

"The mysterious Wizard of Oz might be able to help you to return home," Glenda and the Munchkins told Dorothy.

So Dorothy set off on the yellow brick road to meet the Wizard of Emerald City. Along the way she greets three friends who join her-sojourners in search of a brain, a heart, and a nerve.

But when they meet the Wizard of Oz, Dorothy discovers the horrible truth. The Wizard was an imposter. The dog Toto exposed him as a fraud.

Today, as in "The Return to Oz," our yellow brick road is crumbling, paved in green fiat money as financial establishments teeter on the brink of collapse. 



In heaven, no longer will we be standing on broken yellow bricks. Our eyes will recognize the intrinsic worth of God's creation and the counterfeits of man-the idols, the liars, and the fakes. All except the pure will have vanished-not destroyed with water but with fire, as gold is refined by fire.

I hope to be like a Munchkin, but even more so. Heaven won't be inhabited by evil witches but angelic creatures that serve a risen Savior. God will be our King, not a cowardly wizard hiding behind a curtain. He will be dressed in kingly garb as He bathes us in His light. Neither will ruby slippers be able to bring us home. A deeper magic, more costly than gold, more valuable than riches, hewn from wood and thorns, will transport us. The counterfeit world left behind, Jesus will welcome us on a real yellow brick road richly paved in gold.


Tuesday, November 15, 2016

Made It To The Finalists for the Contest "50 Authors You Should be Reading"



If you would like to help me to win in the winner's phase that would be awesome. Again, just click on the link below and then on the page where the names are listed the little dot beside my name.



If you would like to re-read my article, or you didn't have an opportunity to read it previously, here it is again.  





My love for writing began with a homework assignment in third grade. The teacher asked us to write a short story. Fifty-plus years later, on occasion, I’ll pull the old, faded, handwritten story out from underneath my bed and read it. I still remember writing the words.

In fourth grade, I wrote poetry. 

In fifth grade, my teacher accused me of plagiarism in front of the class. My father went to the school and talked to her. He never once questioned my integrity. 

By the time I was in ninth grade, I had written two unfinished books. Yeah—I didn’t know how to finish them.

When I was thirteen, my parents gave me a guitar for Christmas. The next few years my writing waned as classical guitar took up most of my time. I loved the attention and self-worth it brought me as I performed at many major events. 




When I went to the University of Georgia my freshman year, I rediscovered my love for writing. Since I grew up in a family business, however, English wasn’t on the list of “qualifying” majors; maybe physical therapy or business administration, but not English. No starving authors were allowed in the Roberts’ family. 


Then, as often happens, I fell in love. 


I hit a crossroads. What was I going to do with the rest of my life? In a moment of insanity, I threw my college degree out the window, and at my parent’s urging, agreed to go to court reporting school. My future husband promised someday I could go back to college. 

As a court reporter, I was writing, if you can count thousands of pages of depositions writing. I imagined how many books that would be, and I longed to write something different. 

When my husband finished medical school, we moved to Gainesville, Florida, where he began his residency in radiation oncology. I enrolled in college and earned my two-year degree towards a bachelor’s in journalism. I took my first creative writing class, and my writing appetite was whet once more. 

My life changed forever when tragedy struck. I discovered my husband was having an affair and had gotten his girlfriend pregnant. Not only was I devastated because I loved him, but I had sacrificed a lot for his career. My dreams were just beginning to be fulfilled, although my inability to get pregnant caused me great depression. My hopes of becoming a mother, earning my college degree, and writing books evaporated overnight. 



I cried oceans of tears and didn’t want to live anymore, but God heard my desperate wails. I sought counseling, began to read the Bible, got involved in a local church, and started attending a prayer group. Most importantly, I recommitted my life to Jesus Christ. 

Perhaps the hardest part was accepting God’s will. I had to go back to work as a court reporter since that was the only skill I had. I had dreamed of so much more. 

While it took some time, God gave me new dreams and better opportunities. I obtained that elusive college degree, and in the process, did quite a bit of traveling that included studying in England, Israel, Italy, and Australia. On a whim, I got certified as a scuba diver and made over a hundred dives around the world. 

However, my longing to be a mother remained unfulfilled for eight more years. Then, on May 8, 1994, on Mother’s Day, I arrived home with a three-year-old Nepali girl. Five years later, over Christmas, I adopted an infant girl from Vietnam. 

Manisha a couple of months after arrival.

Joy in Vietnam When I Adopted her

Reading picture books to my daughters unexpectedly rekindled my love for books and writing. We made frequent trips to the library, and I would come home with armfuls of books. We read hundreds of books together, even into their teens—one of the best things about homeschooling.

Not surprisingly, the first book I wrote was a children’s picture book, The Donkey and the King. When I finished it, God told me something I didn’t expect. He wanted me to wait until my children were older before I wrote more books. My passion for writing was all consuming. As a single mother, my daughters needed me when I wasn’t working—now as a broadcast captioner. 



I waited four years to write my memoir Children of Dreams. I was afraid if I waited any longer, I would forget my daughters’ adoption stories. I wanted them to know how God had brought us together as a forever family.



After writing Children of Dreams, my passion for writing grew. However, I only knew how to write picture books and nonfiction. How could I learn to write fiction? I remembered those two books I wrote as a teen—the books I never finished. 

At the Florida Christian Writer’s Conference, I heard about a Masters in Creative Writing degree from an accredited online college. I later enrolled at the spry young age of 53. When I completed my Masters, the book I wrote as part of my thesis became a best-selling book in Christian fantasy on Amazon. Three years later, Seventh Dimension – The Door is still listed in the top twenty Christian fantasy books (I eventually made it free on all eBook platforms). 



Following Seventh Dimension - The Door, I wrote three more books in the series: Seventh Dimension - The King, Seventh Dimension - The Castle, and Seventh Dimension - The City. Currently I’m working on the fifth book in the set to be published next year.

What drives me to write? I write for an Audience of One. God gives me the desire to write, and He gets all the glory. I feel God’s pleasure and spiritual insights I can’t explain. 



As I look back, I’ve learned I needed to live a little so God could teach me much. God has shown me He never wastes anything and limits the feasts of the locusts. They can only eat what He allows. It is never too late to start writing, and it’s always too soon to quit. If we commit our way to our heavenly Father, God will multiply our time, effort, and ability. If my writing can change a life—even if it’s only my own—then I know I’m in God’s will, and really, isn’t that all that matters?


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Saturday, November 5, 2016

Book Review of Seventh Dimension - The Door, A Young Adult Fantasy: Screaming Within Me a Love for Layers of Meaning and Deeper Truths

on November 2, 2016


I was gifted “The Door”, as I am a huge fan of allegory. This book first came out in 2013, and is now part of a vast series.

I grew up on “The Chronicles of Narnia”, “Pilgrim’s Progress”, and “Hind’s Feet on High Places”. These works were the basis of my reader’s identity, creating within me a love for layers of meaning and deeper truths. “The Door” reminds me of those works, with its artful allegorical tale. The author definitely knows her genre, as I see similarities to other works, but she has taken the examples that have come before, and made them her own.



The best part of this work, for me, was the strong, clear, Gospel message! As the main character, Shale, is dealing with many deep issues of anger and abandonment, the way she comes to understand her true worth, and believe in the King is written exceptionally. I would highly recommend this for others who have young people dealing with these issues.

I would also recommend this as a fun read during bedtime stories, perhaps a chapter a night. A great way to get younger kids into larger books and series.

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To read more of K. Pearson's reviews, you can visit her website at