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 Were not our hearts burning within us while he talked with us on the road and opened the Scriptures to us? (Luke 24:32)
Miriam stole a look at Cleopas. His head was bent. He stared down at the dusty road and forced one foot ahead of the other. At this pace, it would be dark before they reached their home in Emmaus. Did her husband even notice the fresh crisp air that had replaced the moldy smells of winter?  My husband has been going stir crazy ever since the drought of TV sports began, eager to go somewhere. Anywhere! We cancelled last week's trip to Baltimore to see our daughter and family. In April we intended to return to where we used to live in Brazil for a wedding. We won’t be going. We hadn’t planned a road trip to Montana, but that’s where we went.
In February my mother-in-law flew out to see her daughter’s family an hour south of Seattle for a birthday and a couple concerts. (Hey! This is a musical family. We’re very supportive of one another’s performances.)
When I tried to call the airline Wednesday evening after cases of Covid 19 were reported in our daughter’s county and she knew someone with symptoms, the wait to talk to a person was 4+ hours. I’m an early riser so I figured calling at 6 AM would beat the crowd. Wait time only 2+ hours. But at least I would be awake 2+ hours later, and they have a system where you can leave your number and they call you back. In the end they forgave our non-refundable tickets without question. I’m grateful to Delta Airlines who is no doubt taking a huge hit this week.
So how do we pray in the midst of a situation like this?
 I live in the Northwoods where my mailing address is a tiny Native American town dominated by a large casino. In my desire to better understand my Ojibwe neighbors, I read Bury My Heart at Wounded Knee and a book of local history. Friends recommended several other titles, one being the autobiographical novel April Raintree (reviewed here) and another the shockingly titled Custer Died for Your Sins by Vine Deloria, an Oglala Sioux and executive director of the National Congress of American Indians (NCAI), 1964-67.
 Recently I have been trying to educate myself about the Native Americans in my community. When I posted a review of Bury My Heart at Wounded Knee on Facebook, several friends made suggestions of further reading. The semi-autobiographical April Raintree by Beatrice Culleton/Mosionier was one of these.
In this powerful exploration of what it means to be native in modern Canada, we follow the lives of two Metis (mixed blood) sisters who take different paths in response to their heritage. The girls are taken away from their alcoholic parents as young children and placed in different foster homes. Some of these are very supportive situations, but not all, and school is full of bullies. Mrs. Semple, April’s social worker, chooses to believe the abusive foster mom instead of the girls  I met Stacy Monson through our local chapter of American Christian Fiction Writers. In fact, Stacy helped start Minnesota N.I.C.E. and I’m glad she did. The monthly meetings in St. Paul and the writers who come together there have been a big encouragement to me. Award-winning author of The Chain of Lakes series and Open Circle, Stacy has become a critique partner and friend. She describes her stories as “an extraordinary God at work in ordinary life.” Unlike the typical Christian romance, Stacy’s books are always about something so much more significant than boy meets girl.
Her newest book, When Mountains Sing, releases today, August 7! When the truth cost her everything, she thought there was nothing left to lose.
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