by April | Dec 21, 2014 | Author Interviews, Book Release, Book Reviews, Grief, Hospice
Elaine Marie Cooper is the author of Fields of the Fatherless, a historical fiction based on a true story from the American Revolution. She has also penned three historical romances: The Road to Deer Run, The Promise of Deer Run and The Legacy of Deer Run. Her passions are her family, her faith in Christ and the history of the American Revolution, a frequent subject of her fiction. She grew up in Massachusetts, the setting for many of her novels. Her new release is Bethany’s Calendar, a memoir of her daughter’s battle with brain cancer.
I recently read her new title. Here is my review: Bethany’s Calendar is a touching memoir of a mother’s last days with her dying daughter. It’s woven with raw emotion, tragic moments, and unbreakable threads of Godly hope. Each chapter begins in Bethany’s own words as excerpts from her journal, continues with the author’s heartfelt, hard-earned experiences and memories, and closes with a thought or devotional, always pointing back to The Comforter of our sorrows for strength needed for the next day—or the next hour. A good book entertains, but an excellent book changes how we feel and offers a new perspective that unobtrusively works its way into our consciousness. This is such a book. A must-read for anyone dealing with cancer or chronic illness in their own lives or the lives of a loved one.
Please join me in welcoming Elaine!
Tell us a little about your background and how you became interested in writing. I think most authors confess to a childhood passion for writing. J My early attempts at the craft were an assortment of short fiction, poems, and a television manuscript! I’m sure they were quite amusing. I never thought this interest would lead to becoming a writer but the Lord kept leading me onto that path, regardless of my own plans.
What led you to write “Bethany’s Calendar?” I have to say it was the Lord impressing the idea on my heart during praise and worship time at a writer’s conference. I had no intentions of 
ever writing the painful saga of my daughter’s battle with brain cancer. I thought I would only continue writing historical fiction. But like Bethany’s illness changed her plans, God changed mine.
What is “Bethany’s Calendar” about? It’s the story of facing my worst fear: losing a child. It’s also the story of how we helped her through that painful journey and how others in similar situations can be strengthened in their role as caregivers. This memoir is geared toward families dealing with serious illness, cancer sufferers, nurses, and friends of caregivers. I pray that what my husband and I learned during this crisis will give hope and help to others.
That must have been unimaginably hard to write. Reliving that painful time was at times excruciating. I had many prayer warriors lifting me up to help me through the writing of the chapters. What a blessing to feel the prayers of others.
In the book, you say ” Be aware that many times, the people who you think would be the most supportive and helpful, will let you down in one way or another. If there are friends or family who are draining you of emotional energy, it is OK to keep them at a distance until you are capable of dealing with them.” Why do you feel that way? I have spoken with others in similar circumstances and I receive nods of understanding. I feel that way because as the caregiver, you have to keep your patient the priority for your energy. If you allow others to sap your strength with their unhelpful behavior, you end up of hurting yourself as well as your loved one. But I also add that it is important to forgive. Usually these people are grieving as well. That’s excellent advice. It’s like on the airplane and you’re told in case of emergency to place your oxygen mask first and then help those around you.
What’s the most important thing readers will learn from “Bethany’s Calendar?” I pray that readers will see how faith in God can help them through the most dire of circumstances. Life is not easy but the Lord has promised us He will never leave us or forsake us. I also pray that caregivers will learn ways to be advocates for their loved ones who are ill. Every patient, weak from illness, needs a strong supporter who is willing to go to bat for them.
Now that you’ve shared about your journey with Bethany, do you have any upcoming plans for new novels? Yes, I’m working on a historical fiction set in Saratoga, New York in October of 1777. And in October of 1977. And no, it is not a time travel novel. 😉
Would you share a Bible verse that is particularly meaningful to you? A verse that means a great deal to me is 2 Corinthians 1:3-5 “Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of mercies and the God of all comfort. He comforts us in all our affliction, so that we may be able to comfort those who are in any kind of affliction, through the comfort we ourselves receive from God. For as the sufferings of Christ overflow to us, so our comfort overflows through Christ.” HCSB
A friend from church sent me these verses during Bethany’s illness and it made such an impression on me. I realize now that the message of this passage of Scripture seems to have come full circle in writing “Bethany’s Calendar,” and I pray it brings comfort to others.
Finally, can you tell us when you’re not writing, what do you enjoy doing? Being with my family. Crocheting. Going to quality movies. Drinking tea and eating scones. Oh, scones, tea and movies. I’m all over that. If you’re ever in the PacNW, look me up 🙂 Thanks so much for joining us! I am so grateful you’ve taken the time to read this interview. And I pray that, should your family ever be impacted by cancer, that “Bethany’s Calendar” will help you in some way through your difficult journey.
You can find Elaine Marie Cooper’s novel, Bethany’s Calendar on Amazon here http://buff.ly/12izRBy
Don’t go yet! If you have any questions of Elaine or myself, don’t forget to comment below!
by April | Feb 10, 2014 | Encouragement, Grief
What have you been up to lately? We’ve been very busy. Let’s see, where to begin? I got the manuscript of my latest novel, Macy, turned in to my publisher, and spent the following days celebrating my daughter’s 16th and my son’s 11th birthdays…and worked on our M.E.P (our marriage enrichment project read IKEA shelving unit—see lovely photo on your left).
How hard can that be, you ask? Seriously, IKEA has great instructions, and it’s pretty simple…on paper. Except, did you know you have to drill the drawer front handles yourself? Yeah. That was fun, getting them all lined up (just be glad you weren’t here). Thankfully, my husband came equipped with a math function of which I am sorely lacking. Five, er…six…er…eight ruined drawer fronts later, there you have it! Flawless! Mostly.
It’s beautiful, and it’s something we’ve wanted to do for years and years. All our homeschool stuff is (soon to be) organized into ONE place (I know, right??!). “Mom, where’s the ____?” My “In any one of four places,” answer has changed to “Right there!” Well, it will be as soon as I get everything moved. But then—perfection!
Yes, I know, I attain perfection every time I reorganize that towel closet and perfection is stolen from me in days. I know eleven-year-old habits will be hard to break. Quit raining your well-balanced logic on my parade.
Our M.E.P went really well, considering I had to deal with letting go some more—which wasn’t much fun off and on. I have gone from a capable gal who could unpack most of the house after a move in a couple days to our M.E.P taking three weeks. I had a day of hating that. Much improved over what could have been three weeks of hating that. She’s growing, she’s accepting. (Still stinks though…grumble…grumble).
Your mind is still on all those wasted drawer fronts, isn’t it? Don’t worry, we’ll do something creative for our new kitty with them (I will tell you about him next time). Wait, you’re not worried about that? You just want to know how we could have ruined eight of them?
Sometimes you have this plan that looks great all sketched out, even measures out perfectly, but it just fails. The drill bit was bent and we didn’t know it. The hole for the right side was off just a tiny bit, so the template was off all those times. Lastly, plain and simple, the drill slipped in my grasp (drills are heavier to me now than they used to be).
Sometimes you just have to roll with it. And know when to walk away and let your spouse work out their geometry skills. Knowing when to walk away can be harder than you think. I’m a hang-on-with-my-teeth girl. After I walked away (mentally and physically), my patience for the whole project grew. I used to like drilling—not so much anymore. Gladly, my husband has a knack for it and finished up the fronts and doors like a pro.
Letting go can be very freeing. To be honest, I haven’t noticed the tools, the boxes on the front steps, the unfinished part all that much since I ‘walked away.’ That is not me. Actually, it’s the new me. The project got done, and I didn’t stress about it. Chalk up one successful M.E.P!
Have you had a fun or exasperating M.E.P? Leave me a message about it below!
by April | Dec 16, 2012 | Christmas, Compassion, Emmanuel, Faith, Grief
My heart is so saddened by the past few days. We’ve had shootings at our Clackamas mall, then our local pet store caught fire (nearly all the pets were lost), and now the shootings in Connecticut follow that up. I’m left feeling empty and sad. There are hundreds if not thousands in mourning this week—a week we’re supposed to be preparing for Christmas and enjoying family traditions.
Seeing the flags flying at half-mast in town was a dampening reminder today. And while I drove around with my family, doing some last minute shopping and buying a much needed pair of boots for my daughter, I was struck by how life still moves on despite the loss. However, the twinkling lights, merry music and usual hope of the season is contrasted by loss. Deep, heart wrenching loss. It brings us back to where we lay our hope. Is our hope here on this Earth, or does it lay in the hands of our Savior?
I’m struck by the stories of unselfish love emerging out of the tragedy. From the people in the mall who stayed with the injured, even as they lay dying, to the teachers who risked (and lost) their lives protecting their students. And while some shout, “Where was God?” or claim He turned a blind eye because the schools have quit teaching about Christianity, I say He was right there in the midst of it. Because, where there is sacrificial love, there is the Son, and where the Son is, there is the Father.
So when I drive around this year, looking at the Christmas lights, I’m going to be remembering the sacrifice and loss of many—but especially the sacrifice of the One, who came to cast light into the darkness, to draw us unto Himself in our grief, to save us from our iniquities. Emmanuel—God with us. He promises never to leave us nor forsake those who belong to Him, no matter what evil plays out here in this world.
John 8:12 When Jesus spoke again to the people, he said, “I am the light of the world. Whoever follows me will never walk in darkness, but will have the light of life.”
Deuteronomy 31:6 Be strong and courageous. Do not be afraid or terrified because of them, for the Lord your God goes with you; he will never leave you nor forsake you.
by April | Oct 26, 2012 | Compassion, Faith, Grief, Love, Prayer
I took my son to see his specialist the other day. While we were sitting there, he played with his Lego men and another mom sat reading a book to her son. Across the room, a couple held their daughter and made little jokes. It’s unspoken that we’re all there for a reason—our kids suffer from some sort of gastrointestinal illness. As we pretended we were there for ‘normal’ reasons, a woman entered, pushing her disabled young son in a raised wheel chair. As soon as the door opened, the boy made himself known. He wailed in a most heart-wrenching way.
As she checked in at the receptionist’s desk, his wails grew louder, more intense. He sobbed, screamed and then began a rasping gag. I surmised he had lung issues, with whatever other health issues he had. And he was one unhappy boy.
Everyone in the room immediately got quiet and tried looking at anything in the room except for the crying boy. My son’s hands stilled over his toys but, instead of looking away, stared openly at the other boy, his own eyes filling with tears. Mine soon followed. He looked up at me, face full of fear mixed with compassion. We’ve had a lot of moments these past four years that have made the frailness of life very apparent to us—but seeing someone so young suffering really hit home with Seth.
The boy’s sobs and rasps quieted as his very patient mother took off his coat and brushed her hands down his arms, adjusting his legs and shifting his Spongebob pillow behind his neck to make him more comfortable. It was then I noticed the boy’s earplugs. As the patients were called, they left the room with relief. I have to admit, I was hoping for our turn—as the boy still had not quit crying and gagging on phlegm. I felt tense from his screams and it’d only been fifteen minutes—and then I looked at the mother’s face. She seemed so alone. I wondered if she had anyone to lean on.
I put myself in her place, isolated, care-giving for her son all day long, and probably all night long as well. Exhausting. For them both.
Instead of acting like they weren’t there, I engaged her in conversation past his wails and rasps. I asked if he had breathing problems, and she said he’d suffered a brain injury so his lungs and muscles didn’t do what they were supposed to, to help clear things out. He was five. As she spoke, he calmed a bit and then another person entered the room and the door buzzer went off—and so did the boys cries.
I said, “He hates his chair, does he?” I don’t know what made me think that. I remember my own son, hating his car seat so much that he’d scream the entire time he was in it. He wasn’t uncomfortable, he wasn’t hurting, but he hated it and would scream bloody murder.
Her eyes lit up. “Yes, he does. And loud noises, they frighten him.” She motioned to the ear plugs. For a moment, we were just two mom’s visiting, sharing notes about our boys. Then it was his turn, and she gave me a grateful smile and wheeled her son into their appointment.
I looked down at Seth, still sitting quietly, thinking. “That was hard, wasn’t it?” I asked him, knowing full well he’d be thinking about the boy and how hard his life was for days. He nodded. “Let’s pray for that mom and boy, okay?” And he nodded again. We took some time right there to pray.
It’s our nature to avoid suffering. It’s hard and scary and it makes us feel insecure. Life can be like that. But I think worse than suffering, is pretending it doesn’t exist. There are people in pain all around us, even if they aren’t crying out—it’d do us all well to stop and listen, to be there and be compassionate. To come alongside them, a shoulder to lean on. And pray.
Romans 12:15 Rejoice with those who rejoice; mourn with those who mourn. (full text here)
Mathew 7:12 So in everything, do to others what you would have them do to you, for this sums up the Law and the Prophets. (full text here)
1 John 4:7-12 Dear friends, let us love one another, for love comes from God. Everyone who loves has been born of God and knows God. Whoever does not love does not know God, because God is love. This is how God showed his love among us: He sent his one and only Son into the world that we might live through him. This is love: not that we loved God, but that he loved us and sent his Son as an atoning sacrifice for our sins. Dear friends, since God so loved us, we also ought to love one another. No one has ever seen God; but if we love one another, God lives in us and his love is made complete in us. (full text here)
by April | Jun 2, 2012 | Faith, Grief, Love, Thankfulness
The past few years have been a struggle for my family health-wise. I’ve shared as much on my blog. This has made it hard for us to take vacations. But a couple months back, we planned one down to northern California, to see a good portion of our family—one of those being my Granny who, at the age of 96, was declining in health.
Unfortunately, we didn’t get there in time, but were able to attend her memorial. And while I love to write and do pretty well with my fingers on the keyboard, I’m not much of a speaker. I mean, I do fine—but it’s hard for me to talk in front of people, and especially difficult during such an emotional time. So, I waited until now.
I’ve been very blessed to have a number of grandparents in my life. I have four parents (due to remarriage), and were able to know most of their parents, and even a couple of their grandmother’s.
Both Granny, and her mother, Grandma Lind, were instrumental in my life. My mother and I moved to northern California when I was ten. To say I was lonely is a huge understatement. It was just a few short months later that my mother met and married my step-father. And thus, I was thrust into a new family with grandparents and a brother and sister (who were out of the house by my arrival), aunts and uncles and cousins. I felt very uneasy, and didn’t know what to expect.
Both Granny and Grandma Lind took me right into the family. If there were any doubts they had about me, I never knew it. As soon as my parents said, “I do” I was a grandkid and that was that. I can’t tell you what it meant to me to be accepted so quickly.
Granny was expert in making just about anyone feel at home, and I did. So much so, that one time, when she was babysitting me, I noticed that the clock on the piano was an hour off (Daylight savings time had come and gone). So, I fixed it. She had a funny look on her face when I told her how I’d taken care of it for her. I had no idea that a professional needed to set that clock…that expensive mantle clock. But, after explaining it to me, it was never mentioned again. I discovered later it had been quite expensive to repair. I kept a clear path between that clock and me from then on.
She loved music, and during a period of time when I was taking piano lessons, let me come over and practice at her house. I’m sure she must have gotten pretty tired of hearing me play the same pieces over and over again (I use the word play loosely)—but she just smiled and encouraged me. I never really mastered it, I wish I had.
Granny loved clowns and had a collection of figurines and pictures. One Halloween, I was about thirteen, I decided to be a clown for trick-o-treating. My friends and I canvassed the whole town (it felt like) and I needed to use the bathroom. We were nearby Granny’s house, so I knocked on the door. She answered and gave me a candy. I asked, “Can I use the bathroom?” Well, I’d never seen an incredulous look on her face before, but sure gave me one. When I stepped inside, she kindly asked me to leave, took me firmly by the arm and escorted me out, shutting and locking the door, flipping off the porch light. To say I was shocked didn’t begin to explain my feelings. My grandmother had just tossed me from the house! As I was standing in the dark, wondering what happened, I realized she had no idea who I was. So, I started knocking again. After a minute, she flipped on the porch light, opened the door a crack and told me to go away in a very stern voice. Had I been the miscreant she took me for, I’m sure I would have turned tail and ran. Instead I said, “But, Granny, it’s me, it’s April!” She was just as relieved as I was. I apparently made a very convincing clown.
Years later, when I got engaged, she lovingly sat my fiancé and I down and asked what our plans were (we were pretty young). She was matter-of-fact, yet kind. And over the twenty plus years we’ve been married, unendingly supportive.
People at her memorial talked about her classy appearance (always dressed to the nines); her love of travel (was even asked by a native New Guinea man to be one of his wives); her love of sporty cars; how she walked in her faith every day of her life, reaching out to strangers and making them feel like a friend. She so did. But, for me, I’ll always remember how she looked at this lonely ten-year-old girl and took her as one of her own—no questions asked—and loved her. Thanks, Granny.
by April | Nov 15, 2011 | Grief, Pet Loss, Writing
It’s times like now that I’m glad I write. I can put my memories, my feelings on paper, and that gives me a bit of relief. And today, I need that relief–we had to euthanize our kitty. He’d suffered from illness for most of his life, and lived quite a long time for a kitty with feline Leukemia, although he went downhill quite fast this past weekend. He was 4 1/2 years of age.
Our Jack was a spitfire at 5 weeks, taking on our adult cat, Spookers, and winning. Spookers lost his voice after hissing at Jack so often, but he never put Jack in his place. The alpha cat (if there is such a thing) had clearly arrived. At two pounds, he’d taken over, making it clear through his actions we lived in HIS house, not the other way around. Even so, he feared non-family members—so most outsiders never got to see his fuzzy, cuddly side. But, I assure you, he had one.
We first met Jack as our family was out for a walk. A small, orange bundle of fur hopped and skipped
across our path. We were dismayed that no one claimed the little guy. After two weeks of advertising, we realized he’d been dumped and decided to keep him. He immediately ingratiated himself to our family through cuddles, goofiness and fun.
Partially due to his own personality, and partially due to illness, Jack was highly OCD. He had ingrained routines like walking my husband to the door every morning on his way to work and giving the scratching post a good going over. He didn’t like variations on his routine. One time my husband left (Jack scratched the post) then came back inside with something he got from the car. Jack hissed at him, upset that he’d come back—Ken’s role was to leave and not come back until dinner time!
Jack hated things out of place, letting us know how unhappy it made him to have a sock left laying around. He had a great fear of slippers (even doll slippers). My kids would position slippers around the house to keep him from places he shouldn’t be, away from toys they didn’t want him getting hold of. He had a passion for pipe cleaners (the kids use them for art projects), and could some how sniff them out no matter how well we hid them. He loved drinking from the faucet of the tub. He would chase plastic Easter eggs around the house (only the green ones). He scampered about after tiny Lego blocks up and down the wood floors at 2AM (groan!). He enjoyed hiding under things and racing out to grab our toes. His favorite perch was on top of the entertainment center—I think he was keeping an eye on his pride (I fancy he believed himself to be a tiger). Wherever there was activity, there was Jack—sitting on our school books, climbing into grocery bags, sleeping in game box lids.
When Jack was a kitten, he loved to be pushed in the doll stroller. Even as he got too big for that, he still enjoyed being wrapped in a blanket and rocked by my daughter. He would steal bracelets, necklaces and had a soft spot for My Little Ponies (would carry them around the house by his teeth). The kids often had to build barriers around their things (remember the slippers!). I wondered when company came over if they’d think we had some odd habits or collections!
It’s hard to say what I’ll miss the most. Jack would often sit on a small chair in the kitchen and watch me cook. I got in the habit of telling him what I was doing. He seemed so curious and interested—much like the kids when they were younger. I’m sure if he had thumbs, he would have been quite the chef. After watching me for a bit, he would flop down and press his feet to ours, a sign of submission and love. And then, every night, at about ten, he’d climb onto my lap and purr himself into a pre-bedtime nap. He was my therapy cat. A constant companion. My cozy friend. I’m so glad God chose him for us, and I feel so privileged to have had him in my life. I’ll miss him so.
Elaine Marie Cooper is the author of Fields of the Fatherless, a historical fiction based on a true story from the American Revolution. She has also penned three historical romances: The Road to Deer Run, The Promise of Deer Run and The Legacy of Deer Run. Her passions are her family, her faith in Christ and the history of the American Revolution, a frequent subject of her fiction. She grew up in Massachusetts, the setting for many of her novels. Her new release is Bethany’s Calendar, a memoir of her daughter’s battle with brain cancer.
ever writing the painful saga of my daughter’s battle with brain cancer. I thought I would only continue writing historical fiction. But like Bethany’s illness changed her plans, God changed mine.
You can find Elaine Marie Cooper’s novel, Bethany’s Calendar on Amazon here http://buff.ly/12izRBy
