A dear friend from my Webster Groves High School days recently shared on FB how publishing a new book is like giving birth. Indeed it is!  Although it took nearly five years instead of nine months, this writing journey has been a labor of joy from beginning to end.  

I have a favorite verse from Scripture that explains how any of my writing is accomplished, Zechariah 4:6.  
" 'Not by might nor by power, but by My Spirit,' says the Lord of hosts."
  
To this I say, "Amen!" 

I'm so grateful to my dearest husband, Patrick, for his loving support and encouragement, and to my dear friends, Dr. Bob and Anne Little who told me about this story and introduced me to Gene Andrews.  Hand of Mercy is about Gene's father and family and how our Dear Lord reached His hand into their lives and brought healing and salvation.  It's a story of hope and encouragement, truth and enlightenment. 

Hand of Mercy is now available as a Pre-order through Amazon - see the link below.  It will soon be an Ebook, and the actual hard-copy will be launched on October 30.

Thank you for your interest in my writing.  I'm sorry I have not been able to blog in the past months.  My dear mother-in-law, Helen, has been in a severe decline and died on September 27.  She was my best friend and I miss her terribly.  I am so grateful for the years of love and support she gave me - I am blessed beyond words.  I rejoice she is home with her Lord and Savior, our Dear Jesus, and with her family she loved and missed so deeply.  She was the last one to go, and I know she longed to be with them in heaven.

Thank you for purchasing Hand of Mercy, may it bless you in the reading as it has blessed me in the writing!

HOM is now on amazon for pre-order: http://www.amazon.com/Hand-Mercy-Story-Gods-Grace/dp/1620205327/ref=sr_1_cc_3?s=aps&ie=UTF8&qid=1444384432&sr=1-3-catcorr&keywords=ann+wirtz

I placed the small china cup on the shelf above the kitchen sink, and there it has remained. While there have been different shelves these forty years, and often a window sill, as now, the small china cup has been a faithful kitchen adornment ever since, always in easy view near the sink.

The little white cup, rimmed with a thin blue line, was purchased one summer day from an old, weathered antique store on the side of an isolated country road in southeastern Wisconsin. Written in gold on the back of the cup were the words "Souvenir of Luxemburg, Wisc."

Situated not far from Green Bay, home of the state's beloved NFL football team, the Packers, Luxemburg is on the lower half of the peninsula that tips with the quaint villages of Door County. At the time, I didn't know my geography well-enough to place the location, but I did know a find when I saw one.

Nestling the small cup in the palm of my hand, I studied the design on the front. Two little Dutch boys in wooden shoes and traditional garb pointed to a message bannered between them; a windmill faintly edged the canal in the background. Claiming a bit of Dutch heritage through my grandmother, a Vandivert, I was immediately drawn to the colorful drawing. It was the wise saying, however, that especially spoke to my heart.

In light script across the banner was a proverb written in the dialect of the Netherlands:

"It iss mutch better yet to shmile efen if it hurts your face."

Smiling in response, I immediately agreed with this bit of charming wisdom. So much so, it has guided my perspective a count beyond number over the years. There is a Bible verse I also love with a similar truth I have embraced, eloquent in the King James Version:

"A merry heart doeth good like a medicine: but a broken spirit drieth the bones (Proverbs 17:22).

These are wise words, both those printed on my little cup and those in the Bible. I strive to live my life accordingly, sometimes succeeding, sometimes not.

Perhaps I could pen a companion proverb to sum up my efforts:

"It iss mutch better yet to try efen if I fail."

Picnics at the park...
watermelon, hamburgers, fried chicken in a bucket;
Swimming at the local pool...
diving, splashing, stroking down the lane;
Visits to the cemetery...
flowers, prayers, memories that abide;
Flags of red, white and blue...
the Stars and Stripes of our great land.
This is America on Memorial Day.

Why the celebration?
Insight from the words of a soldier...
excerpts from a letter to my aunt and uncle;
Germany, May 22, 1945...
my father, Ken Brubaker;
Once a farm boy from southwestern Kansas...
now driving a tank across Europe.

"Folks, it's a business that is hard to describe, for me anyway...
When you move into a burning town
throwing everything you have at it...
and you see little kids the size of Kenny Lee on up,
scared to death and trying to get out of the way,
you realize that war is really hell.
My earnest hope is that the American mothers and kiddies
never, never have to go through anything like it.
It's strictly no good...

"We were the first ones to hit Hitler's most dreaded Concentration Camp
which was right north of Munich called Dachau.
Folks, there is no way of describing that place.
There were 32,000 prisoners there, more dead than alive
and on one railroad siding there were 39 box cars with an average
of 50 bodies on each one, some more, some less.
You could smell the place easily 10 miles away...

"After seeing things like that
one realizes what an unhuman [sic], ruthless,
nasty bunch these monkies are.

"The S.S. guards were really taken care of at Dachau
by the American soldiers in one big way.
If anything the taking care lasted too shortly.
Anything was too good for those birds.

"Needless to say we are all glad it is over over here
and wished we could say the same for the Pacific.
It will be a great day when things have settled back to normal again.
I for one will be plenty tickled to be with the wife and son again.

"Well folks 'tis past bed time so will sign off.
Hope all of you are well.
Personally I feel like a million.
This rugged life in one sense of the word is quite the thing
for an old "35 year older" I guess. Ha."

Memorial Day, 2015, seventy years later...
I pause to reflect;
The history of the American celebration...
to honor the veterans who died during the Civil War;
The remembrance beginning in 1866...
with flowers, with colors, with prayers.

Today, we honor all who've served and continue to serve out country...
grateful for soldiers who have fought for the freedoms we cherish;
Those who lived and those who died...
each one fighting to keep free the faith and traditions we hold dear.

So, in memory of my father...
this poem;
Thank you, Dad, for your brave sacrifice and service...
I miss you so much!
Your loving daughter,
Ann Brubaker Greenleaf Wirtz

Invocation for the Henderson County Genealogical and Historical Society Meeting, April 11, 2015; Ann Greenleaf Wirtz
  Program:  Unlocking the Hidden Treasures of the Baker Barber Photo Collection; Presenter, Ron Partin

Give me an old photograph, any day,
Life captured in black and white;
The lines, the edges, and curves
Clearly defined by the dark and the light:
The natural world a seeming silhouette, simple and pure, wild and epic;
The structure a declarative statement, sturdy and bold, grand and poor;
The people a reflective study, somber and joyful, family and stranger;
Our curiosity taking hold,
We pause to contemplate:
What was life like back then?
How were challenges met?
Did faith make the difference, as now for some?
Our imagination is set to wondering,
For color gives clues and color gives facts,
But black and white is a mystery waiting to be told.


Dear Father, Life has many mysteries that arouse our curiosity.  When we contemplate the past through the old photograph, through the old writing, through the old keepsake, we are struck by the scope of time and by all that has happened...and by all that has changed.  We are grateful that You alone are unchanging, Your love ever constant as events unfold, and time marches on, and mysteries mount.  Thank You for clues, for memories, for faith that protects and saves in the darkest hour.  Thank You for life abundant through the ages, the thread of life that has overcome war and famine and disease.  As we contemplate the past, we pray for Your continued guidance and mercy on the future.
In the name of Jesus I pray, Amen.

a F.I.N.D. ~ Choosing Hope

 
Happy Easter!

As I contemplate the wonder of Easter, the Resurrection of Jesus from the tomb ~ Hallelujah! ~ I seek a greater understanding of what it means to believe in this Day of days… what does it actually mean to believe in Jesus?

Why Jesus, anyway?

Then Jesus spoke to them again, saying, “I am the light of the world. He who follows Me shall not walk in darkness, but have the light of life (John 8:12 NKJV).

Light brings clarity: 

Thy word is a lamp unto my feet, and a light unto my path (Psalm 118:105 KJV).

The Word of God brings us clarity about Jesus:

Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, who according to His great mercy has caused us to be born again to a living hope through the resurrection of Jesus Christ from the dead, to obtain an inheritance which is imperishable and undefiled and will not fade away, reserved in heaven for you, who are protected by the power of God through faith for a salvation ready to be revealed in the last time (1 Peter 1:3-5 NASB).

How is it possible to love and hope in Him?

We love Him because He first loved us (1 John 4:19 NKJV).

Why believe in Jesus?

We believe because our hope comes from Him:

My soul, wait in silence for God only, for my hope is from Him. He only is my rock and my salvation, my stronghold, I shall not be shaken (Psalm 62:5-6 NASB).

Happy Easter, indeed!