Growing up in LaMoure, my friends and I found many excuses to walk uptown after school. The little treks provided much-needed breaks between the end of the school day and the beginning of homework.

Every week we’d go to the library to return books and check out something new with our library cards. Sometimes we stopped at the Post Office to send a letter to a pen pal or to get the mail.

If we had spare money, we might visit Elmer’s Bakery for a maple-frosted long-john or the Dairy Bar for a nickel ice cream cone. Some of our classmates lived over or behind their family’s businesses, so it wasn’t unusual to stop at Gabe’s Grocery or the LaMoure Hotel. The most intriguing store was Sivertson’s Variety, worthy of its own story someday. A swing through Rickford’s Federated Store was a must to see the latest in shoes and fabric.

Inevitably, we ended up at the LaMoure Drug Store where we purchased school supplies, birthday presents and other schoolgirl necessities, like makeup.

Not once in those years, did I ever dream the LaMoure Drug Store would someday carry a book by me. But yesterday this Prairie Girl called to inquire whether they would be interested and they said yes!

Now I have the jitters, because by this time next week “By the Banks of Cottonwood Creek” will be on the shelf in my hometown.

Publishing your writing is like being in first grade and holding up your art project for your classmates to judge. It’s like standing on stage for the first time during amateur hour, the audience full of expressionless North Dakotans. It’s like holding up your newborn baby for the world; the baby looks like you, but you hope people will think he or she is cute, anyway.

At least I feel that vulnerable as a new author. Writing is so very personal. “By the Banks of Cottonwood Creek” isn’t about me or my hometown. Still, what is in the book is the sum total of a million of my own personal hopes, thoughts, insights and experiences. For instance, the description of the creek found in the Epilogue is true. I’ve seen the marshy place where it begins and know the kind of life it supports, but I put the creek in a fictional community.

So, you might ask, why bother publishing if it leaves me feeling vulnerable? The answer can be found in Romans 5: 5. That scripture states: “Now hope does not disappoint, because the love of God has been poured out in our hearts by the Holy Spirit who was given to us.”

How I love the scriptures about hope and how it never fails. “By the Banks of Cottonwood Creek” is about hope, about second chances and about find the future with the help of God. If ever there was a time when people needed that steadying word, it is now.

Emily Dickinson said it this way: Hope is the thing with feathers – that perches in the soul – and sings the tune without words – and never stops at all.

I love the first stanza of that poem and, of course, I like the second one where she mentions me by name: And sweetest – in the Gale is heard – and sore must be the storm – that could abash the little bird – that kept so many warm.

Have a hope-filled week. Take a stroll down main street. And keep searching for the good, a word spelled so much like “God.”

In “By the Banks of Cottonwood Creek” the main character, Kelly Jorgenson said this: “Why are the most bitter and the most sweet tangled together?”

That’s how I feel about sunshine. Summer is upon us and this prairie girl wants to play outside, whether it’s having a cup of coffee on the front step in the morning sun or hiking along a trail in some place more adventuresome. However, like a two-edged razor, the sun has two sides. The life-giving force that allows our existence on planet earth can also cause skin cancer.

One in five Americans will develop skin cancer sometime in their lives, according to the American Academy of Dermatology. Over 2 million people will be diagnosed with skin cancer in 2015.

Until the second half of the twentieth century, people had the good sense to cover their skin. They wore hats, long pants and long-sleeved tops. Then tanning became popular. Is it any wonder that from 1973 to 2009 melanoma increased in men by 61% and doubled in women?

Growing up, I expected to get a good sunburn at the beginning of summer. After that, my Scottish skin would tan a little. One year we went to the 100^th anniversary of the Battle of Whitestone Hill. My mother and I both came away from that hot, cloudless day absolutely fried.

Mom later had skin cancer. So did all of her brothers, my three brothers, two sisters, and at least one niece and nephew. This is serious, folks. A year ago last winter, my nephew died of melanoma. He was only 53.

My first round with cancer was on my neck many years ago. I went to a dermatologist to have a skin tag removed because it was irritated by clothing. It turned out to be squamous cell cancer.

A few years ago, a spot on my face began to grow bigger and darker. People began to politely suggest I have a doctor look at it, so I made an appointment. I spent two winters in treatment for a precancerous condition. The spot mostly disappeared after that, but now it’s back. My dermatologist believes it’s just pigmentation, but I have regular checkups.

I feel like an oddball wearing a hat, but it’s preferable to having chemo on my face.

There is much to say about causes and prevention of skin cancer. But right now, at the beginning of summer when the sun is so appealing and so strong, do this:

1. Every day, protect yourself and your children. Guys, this goes for you, too.
2. Wear a hat and long sleeves.
3. Avoid situations where you might get burned.
4. Use sunscreen on your face, neck, arms and legs, but don’t totally rely on it.

For more information, check out the American Academy of Dermatology website at www.aad.com.

Don’t let the sun catch you crying because you’ve allowed it too much power in your life. And be wise! The Bible states that “If any of you lacks wisdom, he should ask God, who gives generously to all without finding fault, and it will be given to him.” James 1: 1

LIGHT·HOUSE: A structure with a powerful light to guide sailors.

PRAI·RIE: A broad tract of level or rolling grasslands.

PRAI·RIE LIGHT·HOUSE: A place on the prairie offering light and hope.

St. Ansgar’s Church in Dickey County, N.D. Can you see the guy riding the lawnmower? It reminds me of a passage in “By the Banks of Cottonwood Creek” where the pastor is mowing the lawn.

The Prairie Lighthouse is inspired by coastline lighthouses, beacons of light to all who travel the oceans. In much the same way, prairie churches stand like lighthouses in an ocean of prairie, pointing the way to God. The faith, hope and courage of the pioneers brought order to the untamed heartland.

The Prairie Lighthouse is a place to find faith, hope and courage for today. I am a prairie girl, inspired by rolling hills that stretch to the horizons, just as the waves of the ocean tilt and roll, offering endless shades of light and texture. My daily place of inspiration is my own backyard, where birds, squirrels, chukars, and an occasional wild turkey or mallard delight the soul. Blue spruce, bull pines, a red maple, a white birch and a Mountain ash are visible from my office window.

The trees in my website banner are ancient cottonwoods rooted along the Missouri River shores 40 miles north of Bismarck. It is likely Lewis and Clark walked beneath those very trees in 1804-05. This prairie girl loves to spend time near the Missouri, a powerful body of water that cuts through the prairie. There is nothing like feeling its sugar-fine sand between your toes.

Each morning I get an attitude adjustment from the comic section of the newspaper, where Sally Forth, Baby Blues, Pickles and Crankshaft mirror my own daily crises. Sometimes the simple things in life, like the comics, are the most profound.

Peanuts is my all-time favorite cartoon. Charles Schultz aspired to be an artist as a teenager, but the high school yearbook rejected his artwork. He didn’t give up. Being shy, he took art classes through a correspondence course and went on to produce Peanuts for 50 years. Schultz remained a common person in spite of his fame. He built an ice rink next to the Charles M. Schultz Museum in Santa Rosa, California. Sometimes he slipped in to watch the skaters or to take the Zamboni for a ride. Aren’t we lucky he didn’t give up his dream of becoming an artist because of the high school yearbook rejection?

I am a prairie girl at heart and I look forward to quiet times when God can speak to my heart. It is possible to sit on a prairie hilltop and hear no sound, but to see everything in a 50-mile radius. It is possible to hear the whispers of God in water that laps the river’s shore. The lazy hum of a bee on a flower on a hot summer day may encourage and nourish the soul.

Prairie grass and flowers snapped at Cross Ranch State Park in N.D.

At the end of the day, the Bible is my book of choice. My blue-covered copy is underlined, filled with scraps of paper and showing signs of hinge fatigue. Each underlined verse is an “a-ha” moment that makes me want to seize the nearest person and say, “Look at this!”

From Genesis through Revelation, the Bible tells the story of human failure and God’s plan for redemption. It’s the story of my redemption, too. That’s why the Prairie Lighthouse will always include scripture.

Various topics that are on my mind will find a place here. This prairie girl has been around a few years and I hope and believe items posted here will change your life for the better. I’m eager to talk about what it’s like to be a first-time author (thrilling, hard) and also why I’m excited about my upcoming book.

“And hope does not disappoint us, because God has poured out his love into our hearts by the Holy Spirit, whom he has given us.” Romans 5: 5 (NIV)