Author: Betty Owens

Christian writer of historical fiction and general fiction.

Teetering on the Edge of Reality

On By Betty OwensIn A Gathering of Eagles, Bermuda Triangle, fantasy, Juliet, Lady Guinevere, Maid Marion, Sierra1 Comment

I grew up thinking Science Fiction was about spaceships and aliens. Fantasy was dragons, elves and Prince Charming riding a white horse. How do you define fantasy?

In literary circles Fantasy is often paired with Sci-Fi, though it may seem quite different. Fantasy could actually happen. Dragons did exist at one time (dinosaurs?) and I live in the home of the Derby, so I see elves all the time. Okay, they’re jockeys, but they look like elves to someone as tall as me. Princes exist, of course and they do sometimes ride white horses, and fly helicopters, apparently.

If you have studied history, you’re aware that some pretty fantastic things happened from time to time. Things that were outside of normal day-to-day existence. Wars were won that should not have been won and ordinary men like Alvin York, accomplished seemingly impossible feats.

Much of what was Science Fiction when I was a child, has now become reality. Men have walked on the moon. We have sent probes to Mars. The space shuttle makes regular trips to a space station. And I am typing this post on a computer no bigger than a book that sits on my lap.

 As a child, I lived in a fantasy-filled world. We moved often and I was shy. Many times I was my only BFF. I roamed the countryside in an idyllic time when that was a safe thing to do and I dreamed of days gone by. I was an Indian princess, I was Juliet, I was Maid Marion or Lady Guinevere. Characters met in the pages of books.

The Lady of the Haven is Fantasy, but could almost be historical romance. It is teetering on the edge of reality. The Haven’s anomalies could be explained scientifically, like the Bermuda Triangle (there is also a sort of “triangle” in the Sierra Mountains). In A Gathering of Eagles Jael, though no longer in the Haven, discovers some of the same phenomena have followed her.

The appeal of fantasy is undeniable. We can live out our dreams and desires through the pages of a book or the scenes of a finely crafted movie. Sometimes we find that our dreams and desires are achievable and then the fantasy becomes reality.

My desire is that my readers will come to this realization. Sometimes the only limits are the ones we place on ourselves. Release the limits and give yourself up to your dreams. And while you’re at it, if you’re going to dream, dream big!

Sisters Forever

On By Betty OwensIn children, eternity, grandchildren, nephews, nieces, Voices1 Comment

Sisters are sisters forever. I’ve heard that said, though I never experienced it, since I had none. I observed the closeness between my aunts, Dad’s two sisters. Though sometimes one complained about the other, their love for one another was undeniable. 

The family was closer than most because of a tragedy that occurred early in their lives. Dad was the youngest and he was only two when his father was killed. Their mother struggled to keep the family together, to raise four children on her own in the early thirties. It was difficult and several times, folks offered to take Frances, but she would not give her up. 
Through this hardship, the children learned to depend upon one another. The siblings were codependent in a way. The bond between them and their mother was very strong and would remain so all their lives.
So it was not really surprising that these two sisters would pass into eternity so close together. Aunt Jen (top right) died on Friday, Aunt Fran (lower left with me) died early Monday morning. The family, though devastated, had to admit it was fitting. All the siblings and their mother are together now. I miss them all.
I miss their voices, so often filled with laughter. They learned to laugh through their difficulties and they had plenty, some self-made, over the years. 


They passed along to their children, grandchildren, nieces and nephews, a spirit of love and happiness. They passed a deep trust in God and a love for one another. I feel very blessed to have known them. 
I think Aunt Jen stopped off and picked up Aunt Fran on the way out. That would be just like her. When I visited her in the hospital for the last time, the first thing she said to me was, “Have you been to see Fran?” That was Aunt Jen. She was always thinking of others. 

Due Diligence for Morning Glories

On By Betty OwensIn Fall, morning glories, neighbor, Seeds, Spring, sweet peas1 Comment
One spring, my neighbor planted morning glories in her garden. She dug a hole, dropped in some seeds, and covered them up with soil. 
We had a rather dry spring and though she checked on the seeds from time to time, nothing happened to them. No sprout, no vine, no glorious blooms. She was gravely disappointed. “They must have been bad seeds,” she said.
Fall came and with it, more rain than usual, followed by a winter of heavy snows that lay on the ground for weeks. Spring was blessed with rain as well and when my neighbor went out to clean away the winter debris, she found to her surprise and delight, morning glories sprouting. 
There are several hard-shelled seeds like morning glories and sweet peas, whose packages carry these special instructions, “For best results, soak seeds overnight before planting.” As well, you should keep soil uniformly moist until the plants are established. Though fairly drought tolerant, the morning glory likes a drink of water now and then. 
My friend failed to read the instructions on the packet and then she blamed the seed. Nature stepped in and provided what she had not. The seeds germinated and happily, bloomed profusely all summer long. 
Due diligence in most cases, brings us a quicker reward. What is due diligence? Fulfilling one’s obligations. In this case, it is following the directions on the packet. Soak the seeds overnight, keep the soil uniformly moist until the plants are strong enough to make it on their own. Enjoy their beauty.
You could apply those rules to many things in life: your giving, service to others, your profession, your family. Soak your little ones with love and keep them uniformly loved (watered, fed, protected) until they are old enough to make it on their own. Enjoy their beauty. 

For God is not unjust to forget your work and labor of love which you have shown toward His name, in that you have ministered to the saints, and do minister. And we desire that each one of you show the same diligence to the full assurance of hope until the end, that you do not become sluggish, but imitate those who through faith and patience inherit the promises. Hebrews 6:10-12 NKJV

Tele-Portation

On By Betty OwensIn A Gathering of Eagles, The Lady of the Haven1 Comment

I’ve been working on the second book in The Lady of the Haven series (again) and I began to wonder what it would be like to disappear in one place and suddenly appear in another. Sort of like what happened to Philip in Acts 8. You remember the story, after he had followed the prompting of the Holy Spirit to go into the desert, he met an Ethiopian eunuch, preached to him and baptized him.

Then Philip disappeared. He was found at Azotus, which was a good ways off. He must have hit the ground running! He began immediately to preach and teach in his new location.

What does this have to do with my second book? The same thing happens to my main character in A Gathering of Eagles, the second book in The Lady of the Haven series. Jael leaves one place and ends up in another.

So I was wondering how it would feel and what kind of circumstance would cause such an event?

First, how would it feel? Disorienting? Would you freak out?

Then, what kind of circumstance would cause such an event? Deep need? This would seem the most logical. Philip was badly needed elsewhere.

If you have other ideas and/or answers regarding these two questions, please feel free to leave me a comment.

The Refurbished Christmas Gift

On By Betty OwensIn Christmas, Gifts, Green, Refurbished3 Comments
When I was six, my family lived in San Diego, California. The house we lived in was just blocks away from the San Diego Zoo and the mission at Balboa, so our yard was often filled with exotic sounds like the roar of a lion; trumpet of elephants and call of the peacock.We didn’t have much money, but my mother would always find a way to make Christmas special for us. 
Dad had been looking for another place to live, further out from town, so we would often spend the weekend looking at houses. I liked one particular house very much, because it had an upper story, which fascinated me. There was even a life-sized cardboard cutout of Shirley Temple in one upstairs bedroom. In the yard, there was a pile of trash; junk left behind by former residents. On that pile, I saw a handmade doll cradle. It was broken and dirty, full of leaves and rainwater, but to me it was a treasure. Only rich kids had such things. I knelt down beside it as children often do, to get a better look. In my heart was a deep longing, too innocent to be described as covetous. 
Christmas Eve, my older brother and I were begging to stay up. “Just a little bit longer, please!” To no avail, for I’m sure my mother had a million things to do to get ready for the big day. She stubbornly resisted our pleas. She even received a little unexpected help by way of a stiff breeze outside. The front door blew open, just about six inches or so. Mike and I stopped our pleading to look at it, eyes large and mouths open. 
“See there?” Mom said, always quick on the uptake. “Santa is trying to come, but you two are still up! He can’t come in while you’re awake.” There was no more argument. We ran as fast as we could and jumped into our beds. 
Early Christmas morning, we tiptoed back out to see what treasures had been left for us overnight. Oh, there seemed to be so much stuff beneath that tree! My brothers dived in at once, grabbing toys and showing them off to one another. I stood in awe, for there to my great surprise and joy, was the same little doll cradle that I had seen on that trash pile. I knew it was the very same one, even though it had received a fresh coat of powder blue paint and was no longer broken.
Mom had made a small mattress and pillow, complete with embroidered sheet and pillowcase. A brand new doll lay on top of it all. That doll could cry real tears and wet her diaper, but I barely noticed her. I was enraptured; overjoyed with the refurbished cradle, even though I knew its last home had been a trash pile. 

Long after I outgrew playing with dolls, that cradle sat in my room. When I was finished with it, Mom (a big believer in living green) used it as a planter. Every time I saw it, I remembered that special Christmas. This has become one of my most cherished memories. 

It’s not always necessary to spend a lot of money to make Christmas special. Sometimes a little imagination and a whole lot of love can bring the most joy to someone’s heart. Isn’t that what Christmas is all about?