Palm Sunday (the day after)

two brown donkeys
Photo by chris carroll on

So, I’m a country girl, and I noticed a few things about the donkey Jesus rode into Jerusalem a couple thousand years ago yesterday. I’m also reading Suzy Flory and Patrick Barrett’s book, Sanctuary, but that’s only loosely related, as it’s about a donkey sanctuary that saved a man. Anyway …

We country people know a few things about domesticated animals. This would explain why I noticed Jesus specifically asked for a colt that had never been ridden. Now, that could be about purity to go along with His humility, though I’m not sure. However, I am sure I wouldn’t choose an unridden donkey colt for a parade mount. If you’ve ever ridden a green horse, a calf, a donkey colt, or a bucking bronc, you know they all enjoy introducing their riders to the dirt, face first. So what? So, Jesus not only controlled oceans and seas, wind, demons, disease and most of the time the Pharisees, he also could ride a donkey colt right out of the chute, so to speak.

But that’s not all. I also noticed the disciples covered the donkey’s back with their cloaks before they put Jesus on him. Now that could mean recognizing Jesus’s royalty. Could be, but … I’ve ridden quite a few horses bareback. Let me just say it doesn’t take long before horse sweat seeping through your jeans onto your inner thigh begins to chafe. I imagine denim and cloak cloth are about the same, and I believe the disciples were looking out for their Messiah. Way to go, boys!

And finally, you’ve heard the joke about the farmer driving his donkey to market. The donkey balked and the farmer hit him in the head with a two by four. It got him going, but the farmer’s wife yelled, “Hey, don’t hit our donkey with a two by four. We need the dude.” The farmer said, “That’s one.” They went on a ways and the donkey balked again. The farmer let him have it in the previous manner. The wife … never mind, I forgot the punch line. But you get the point that donkeys balk. But you didn’t read anything about Jesus’s donkey balking on the way into Jerusalem, did you? Even with all the Hosanna hullabaloo the crowds were making. Moral of my story: (I’m not certain there is one.) It might be that even donkeys can experience the peace of God that passes all understanding. Have a peaceful Holy Week! Um, and I didn’t just compare you to a donkey, honest. Might not be all that bad, though. There was one who could see an angel in the Old Testament.

Doomed to Repeat It?

George Santayana said in 1905 that “Those who cannot remember the past are condemned to repeat it.”

My papa’s family came from Ireland back in the 1700s, and I’ve researched a bit on the 5 Ws, who, what, why, when, where. For instance, I know those two George Carliles who came from County Down, Ireland in the 1700s were distant grandfathers. I can’t tell you why they came, but I can tell you they lived in Scotland before they did in Ireland, so were probably part of the English moving Protestants to Ireland to beef up their land holding and thus voting rights. The resident Irish didn’t think much of them, and it’s possible they took a hike hoping for better reception.

And yes, that led to more research on the relationship of the English and Irish, which is not a pretty story. Then that led to the writing of Rogue Irishman, a novel in both current time and the time of the Troubles in Ireland. Rogue Irishman follows Quinn O’Sullivan on a trip around Ireland that was meant to explore family history and find a fine Irish Sport Horse to purchase, but turned out to be about the possibility of reuniting Northern Ireland and the Republic. I’m immersed in work on it, and hope to have it out this summer. The twenty-fifth anniversary of the Good Friday Agreement, a good time to release a book like Rogue Irishman.

Did I mention that another reason I love the history of Ireland is that I discovered Nellie Cashman, an Irish woman who left after the An Gorta Mor, the Great Irish Potato Famine and became a mining woman on the West Coast of America? She was a generous and talented miner and operator of boarding houses, restaurants, etc. But that’s not all, she once saved seventy-five miners from dying of scurvy by pouring lime juice over their blistered gums. I wrote about her in Toughnut Angel, and I think she’d make a great subject for a movie. Clint Eastwood, Mel Gibson, Tom Hanks, are you listening?

I haven’t met face-to-face with any of these people. But I research, recreate them in my imagination, and come to love and learn from them. Therefore, I am not doomed to repeat the mistakes of history, and I receive the added benefit of enjoying its victories. (And you can, too)

A Common Girl, An Uncommon Time – Part II

This one’s my finale to the blog tour. I hope it blesses your Christmas.

Thanks to Caesar Augustus’s demand for a census, which Mary didn’t mind, since it rescued her from Nazareth, Mary and Joseph trod the same crowded road Mary had six months ago when she visited Elizabeth.

The donkey plodded along, and she recalled arranging her clothing to mask her expanding abdomen when she’d walked back into Nazareth after her visit.

Mary planned to circle around Joseph’s house, but as she was about to, there he stood. Smiling.

“You know that angel?”

“Um hm”

“I met him in a dream. He told me this incredible story’s true. The hundreds of years we’ve waited for our Messiah have ended. Right here, in Nazareth. And just so you know, it doesn’t surprise me one single jot that Yahweh picked you. I’m so sorry I didn’t believe you before. Forgive me?”

“Oh Joseph.” She’d run into his arms.

She’d begged to go with Joseph, though a wife could stay at home if she wanted. Only, she couldn’t stand the staring eyes and wagging tongues of Nazareth, or her parents’ shame, one more moment. Now the sun set as Joseph led their donkey into Bethlehem.

 Ouch! What was that? Wait, was it the beginning of birth pains? They grew stronger as the couple came to each door where another innkeeper rebuffed Joseph.

With gratitude to

Finally, an innkeeper who also claimed no rooms, seeing her endure a strong contraction, pointed to a stable behind his inn. “You can take her there.”

The Son of the Most High would be born in a stable? Not a palace? Not even a house? Yahweh, what are You doing?

You are rich in something more than gold and silver, Mary. I draw attention to what matters by where you birth My Son.

Joseph piled up clean straw for her, and when she’d accomplished Jesus’s birth, she gazed down into His eyes–His deep eyes held eternity, and love. God had done what He said He would do. Joseph took Him from her and laid Him in a manger where he’d arranged more clean straw. How could she mother God’s Son? How can I, Lord?

I will guide you. But you will make mistakes because you are human, and I am prepared for that.

Rough shepherds appeared and lingered at the entrance. “May we come in? An angel told us while we were keeping the temple sheep that our Savior is here in a manger.” They looked over at Jesus sleeping in His swaddling cloths.

Mary wondered again. No kings, prophets, priests, or warriors–just shepherds? Common people, like her and Joseph. Father, are You telling us that faith is more important than the power, education, or wealth our world approves?


“Mary treasured up all these things, pondering them in her heart.”

May the amazing birth of our Savior lead us all to ponder.

I hope “A Common Girl, An Uncommon Time” warmed your Christmas. If you’re reading this on Facebook, I’d love to send you free short stories once a month if you’ll sign up with your email at

The Nativity


Dianne Marie Andre

Mary, mother of Jesus. My heart can barely grasp what an extraordinary woman she must have been to be chosen the mother of the world’s Savior. I imagine her perfect, without sin. Though this is unlikely, God blessed her above all women. Yet His path for Mary wasn’t easy. To avoid disgrace as an unwed mother, God instructed her fiancée to marry her and to travel together from Nazareth to safety in Bethlehem.

The young couple trekked on unpaved trails for four days along flatlands and over hills, possibly in freezing temperatures. When they reached Bethlehem, no doubt weary, they had to settle for a cave—used to house animals—in which to rest where Mary gave birth.

The least desired place for a birthing mother became the most honored and beloved story of all time. The young couple listened to God, trusted, obeyed, and persevered. Hard as it was—which many of us can’t comprehend just how difficult—God provided for them along the way and when they reached their destination.

I wonder if the world silenced to hear the first cry of the King. If an unidentified light glowed in the dim cave the moment Jesus entered the world. If the waters rested and the winds ceased. Luke 2:13-14 tells us after shepherds in Bethlehem were told of Jesus’ birth, the angels sang. We will never know the full magnificence of all that took place during the nativity.

What an honor it is to have included the nativity in my novel Dress Shop Miracles. It’s one of my favorite scenes as my characters traveled from a difficult path to hope, love, and miracles. I hope you love the story of Molly and Ted as much as I did writing it, and guess what?

I’m giving away one e-book copy of Dress Shop Miracles via Amazon Kindle.

To qualify for the drawing simply: 1) subscribe to my website at; 2) then comment below this article (at my website) that you subscribed via Christmas Blog Tour. The winner will be announced December 24, 2022.

You can read the blurb here:

I hope you’ll take a moment to enjoy a video with my 52-year-old nativity set honoring the birth of Christ.

Merry Christmas,

Dianne Marie Andre

Embracing Christmas Traditions


Julie Arduini

As a child, each Sunday we could count on roast beef for dinner. If we’d lost all calendars and had no idea what day it was, seeing roast beef on the table would give us a clue it was at least Sunday. Honestly, because it was so predictable, I made fun of it.

                Until I moved to a dorm and my family Sunday dinner was whatever I found in the dining hall.

                It was then I started to understand the importance of traditions. As a young adult I no longer complained about a Christmas Eve present, a tradition, and knew it was going to be pajamas. Once I married, we’d add attending Christmas Eve service before opening that present. On Christmas morning we’d read Luke 2 before opening presents. Christmas dinner would be at my childhood home, where there would be a ham dinner. Once I got pregnant and violently ill thanks to the spiral ham, the tradition forward was turkey.

                Fast forward and our two children are young adults. One is married and about to experience his first Christmas away from home and with his new traditions. Both my parents and my in-laws are gone. The moments I reflect on those past Christmas seasons I realize it is the traditions I hold close.

                Some traditions might seem silly like the one my sister, a teacher, created “reindeer food” outside Christmas Eve with my kids. When her son came along, we added him to the process. I still remember his glee when he’d go outside and find the glittery concoction had been touched. Even at 23 and 19, last year my kids headed out to help spread the food. It’s a fond memory for both of them.

                There are also traditions that probably only our family invested in. My parents worked hard, but like most families in the 70’s and 80’s, from paycheck to paycheck. Mom did a lot of her shopping after Christmas because it was affordable. One gift she stumbled upon was a vendor at the mall who created a “blue ice village.” Each year I would receive a piece. I was excited to showcase each piece under the tree. To this day, that village goes under my tree. Mom etched each piece with the year she gave it to me. That village means the world to me not for the unique look, but because it came from my mom.

                Last year was our first Christmas without a parent. Our boxes were surrounded by memories and traditions I now see I took for granted. I assumed those things would always be there, just like my parents would. The reality is they are gone, and if I don’t pick up the traditions, they die too.

                We decided to keep mom’s traditions but added one. Instead of opening a Christmas Eve present, we chose something with a humorous side to help us through our grief. We drew names among the kids, my sister, and myself and chose a white elephant gift. Once unwrapped our tokens included a large glittery rubber duck to a calendar of dogs doing their business. If we keep that game up, it will be a fun tradition that I’ll cherish as one that got us through a rather bleak time.

                If you’re facing a Christmas full of traditions that don’t make sense to you, or seems too costly in time or finances, ask God to help you see the interaction as He does. For me, a lot of what I thought was boring and predictable when I was younger was in reality tangible moments with my family I’ll never get back. Those traditions became precious memories, and that’s what I’m left with. There’s nothing in a store that could equal the value of those Christmas times.

                What are some of your Christmas traditions? What do you think of them?

Julie Arduini loves to encourage readers to find freedom in Christ by surrendering the good, the bad, and —maybe one day—the chocolate. She’s the author of the new contemporary romance series SURRENDERING HEARTS (Anchored Hearts, Repairing Hearts, +four more.) Her other romance series is SURRENDERING TIME (Entrusted, Entangled, Engaged.) She also co-wrote a YA series with her daughter, SURRENDERING STINKIN’ THINKIN’ (You’re Beautiful, You’re Amazing, You’re Brilliant.) Her stand-alone romances include MATCH MADE IN HEAVEN and RESTORING CHRISTMAS. Julie maintains a blog at and participates in the team blog Christians Read. She resides in Ohio with her husband and daughter. Learn more by visiting her at Her newest release can be found at