About Julie Klassen: Julie Klassen is an American author of inspirational Regency romance novels. She is the winner of several Christy Awards and a Midwest Book Award.
But I don't think any parent can expect to escape this life without disappointing his child at some point. And the same could be said the other way around. We all of us fall short now and again, and disappoint someone dear to us, or ourselves. Thankf...
Yes, sometimes we must lose something...someone...before we realize its worth.
At the door he turned and looked back. She stood, facing away from him, the sunlight from the window enshrouding her in an unmerited halo of gold. Perhaps, he thought, that was how God saw all His children. Selfish and fallen, yes. But in the forgivi...
You do not esteem good deeds?" She shifted the basket handle to both hands, just as a cool breeze blew a bonnet string across her face. "My dear Miss Keene, what would the world be without them?" He brushed the string from her cheek. "Are we not admo...
How long had it had been since she'd thought back on the evenings around the fire, number games at the kitchen table, or listening to her father sing? Too long. Yes, there had been bad times. And she had tallied them like figures in a column, not rem...
Come to think of it, she did not speak a word. Yet I could have sworn she had the most beautiful voice.
I need to hear the words of this book—its truth, forgiveness, hope—as much as anybody.” Nathaniel looked up with an apologetic smile. “I know I’m no great orator. But I ask you to bear with me as I fumble through this new duty.
She also watched Miss Upchurch as she danced with Mr. Hudson. They bounded through the steps in lively abandon. Mr. Hudson’s form was a bit ungainly, but he had never seemed so young and handsome as he did while dancing with Miss Upchurch.
How rough your hands still are.” Embarrassed, she made to pull them away, but he held them fast. “Yet never have I longed to kiss any woman’s hands as I long to kiss these.
Mr. Upchurch,” she fumbled. “I . . . I must take my leave directly. But before I go, allow me to say how sorry I am for the callous way I treated you in the past. I regret it most keenly.” His heart squeezed even as he felt his brows rise. �...
I remember everything about you, Miss Macy. Every moment between us—the good and the bad.” He chuckled dryly. “Though I prefer to linger on more recent pleasant moments.
She smiled and feigned enthusiasm, although she cared little for the game. Sometimes that's what you did for the people you loved.
Do you not pray, Miss Smallwood?' She avoided his gaze. 'No.' 'God is speaking to you every day,' he said softly. 'You might return the favor.' She raised her chin. 'I don't hear Him.' 'Do you listen?' She looked at him, clearly offended, then turned...
We all of us die, Miss Smallwood,' he interrupted. 'But we don't all of us make our lives count for something. How much better to die saving another soul than to stand safe on shore and do nothing while others perish?
Where has God promised to fulfill our every whim according to the minutia of our earthly desires? Where has He promised to keep us from suffering or disappointment? Things He did not spare His own Son? You were raised in one of the finest manors in t...
I have been praying, too, for the first time in my life. That parson, Tugwell, he helped me see - not the error of my ways, for I knew them all to well already - but what was wanting in me. I am far from perfect, I know, but I am changed and changing...
You are free to go, Father," she whispered. "We are all of us free." Olivia finally understood what Mr Tugwell had tried to tell her. This was how it was for every fallen crteature. Christ bore the penalty we each deserve, to purchase our freedom.
