#SaturdaySpotlight is on Sharon J. Mondragón (@SJ_Mondragón) & The Unlikely Yarn of the Dragon Lady!

Good Morning Friends!

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Today's guest visited us last month and shared some interesting insights on "The Secret of the Wrinkles." Today she's giving us a sneak peek into her book, The Unlikely Yarn of the Dragon Lady. So, please welcome Sharon J. Mondragón (@SJ_Mondragón) back! Take it away, Sharon....

A knitting group’s change of scenery changes lives in unexpected ways...

Margaret, Rose, Jane, and Fran had a good thing going: meet every week in the quiet of their peaceful chapel and knit prayer shawls. No muss, just ministry. That is, until their pastor boots them out of the church in his last-ditch effort to revive the dwindling congregation.

Uptight Margaret isn’t having it. Knitting prayer shawls where people can watch is the most ridiculous idea she’s ever heard of, and she’s heard plenty. Prayer belongs in the church, not out among the heathen masses. How are they supposed to knit holiness into these shawls if they’re constantly distracted by the public? But with no choice, the others embrace the challenge. They pack their knitting bags and drag Margaret—grumbling the whole way—to the mall with them. She can’t wait to prove them all wrong when it fails miserably, and show the pastor that she always knows best.

Without the familiar mold the group has been stuck in, their own losses, pain, and struggles rise to the surface. And the people and situations they encounter every time they try to sit quietly and knit are taking them a lot further out of their comfort zone than they ever imagined. Can they find the courage to tackle the increasing number of knotty issues they learn about in the community--or will the tangle be too much to unravel?

Sharon J. Mondragon’s debut is warm and delightful, full of real laughter, grief, and personality. It beautifully illustrates the power of women across generations to reach people for Christ.

Excerpt:

On the fateful Wednesday morning the final battle was engaged, Pete McIlhaney, rector of Hope of Glory Community Church, dressed himself with a sense of adventure and derring-do. He donned a black clerical shirt and white collar as though it were any other day. But then he pulled a black T- shirt with the words Father Knows Best in white lettering over his head—like a surplice over chain mail, he thought.

“Saint George had his dragon,” he encouraged himself as he thrust his arms through the sleeves. “And I have Margaret Benson!”

“Are you sure you want to wear that shirt?” his wife, Linda, asked him over breakfast a few minutes later. “She might take it as a challenge.”

Pete flashed her the boyish, lopsided grin he’d deployed to capture her heart nearly three decades earlier. “Bring it on!” He recklessly slathered an English muffin with far more jam than usual. “These are desperate times, my dear, and I’ve played it safe way too long. I know you think my idea is crazy, but it’s so crazy it just might work.” He’d delivered the movie quote with raised eyebrows and an Italian accent. “Besides,” he continued, suddenly serious and determined, “it’s time somebody stood up to Mrs. I-Run-Everything Benson before she runs this church right into oblivion!”

~~~~~

As the self- appointed head of the Heavenly Hugs Prayer Shawl Ministry, Margaret Benson arrived fifteen minutes early for the group’s weekly meeting in Hope of Glory’s Prayer Chapel—as usual. The blustery November day was cold enough to wear the fur coat Jim had given her for their thirtieth wedding anniversary, and she laid it carefully across a back pew. Then she strode to the front, where a vase with withered flowers sat on the intricately carved table that served as an altar. Sunlight filtered softly through the windows, highlighting the rich colors of the stained- glass depiction of the nativity. It also highlighted the motes floating languidly in the air. She ran her finger across the tabletop, then frowned at the trail it left in the dust. Really, how many times did she have to point out that the janitor was simply not doing his job when it came to the Prayer Chapel?

Margaret pulled a tissue from her pocket and fastidiously wiped the of ending dust from her finger. Then, vase in hand, she pushed through the double doors of the chapel and made her way to the kitchen of the parish hall, where she dumped the flowers into the trash can. She scrubbed out the vase in the sink, taking care not to splash water on her new wool suit. Then she placed the vase dry and spotless in the cabinet labeled Prayer Chapel and headed for the church office to tackle the problem of the dust in the chapel.

~~~~~

Lucille Brewster, church administrator and general Girl Friday for the rector, sighed as she heard the sharp approach of footsteps crossing the foyer. “Incoming,” she muttered under her breath. She made sure, however, that no trace of chagrin remained on her face by the time Margaret Benson, tall and regal and impeccably dressed in a royal- blue power suit and heels, appeared in the doorway of the church office. Lucille, in her workday slacks and sweater, felt hopelessly dowdy by comparison.

“Hello, Mrs. Benson. How are you this f ne morning?” Lucille hoped the answer would be Fine, thank you, but she wasn’t counting on it.

“Practically choking on the dust in the chapel. It’s disgraceful the way Bill neglects it. Would you please speak to him—again?”

“I’d be happy to.” Lucille resisted the urge to reply through gritted teeth. She could feel Mrs. Benson’s eyes on her as she jotted a brief note—Please dust Prayer Chapel—and then tucked it into the janitor’s internal mail slot.

“I could do that,” Margaret told her. “In fact, I have. Repeatedly, for all the good it’s done. He needs to be spoken to. Firmly.”

“I’ll mention it to Father Pete when he comes in.”

“Never mind. I’ll mention it to him after Prayer Shawl.”

Honestly, Lucille thought as Margaret Benson turned on her heel and headed toward the foyer, Father Pete has more than dust in the Prayer Chapel to deal with these days. If things don’t improve soon, there won’t be a Hope of Glory anymore, let alone a Prayer Chapel.

She reflected on the current situation. In January, the bishop had given them a new pastor and a year of grace. If the congregation continued to dwindle, however, the church was slated to close. The deadline loomed not much more than a month away. Lucille permitted herself a rueful smile and shake of the head, glad she wasn’t in Father Pete’s shoes today. His newest plan to try to resurrect Hope of Glory was bound to send Margaret Benson into a snit of epic proportions.

Sharon J. Mondragón writes about the place where kindness and courage meet. Her debut novel, The Unlikely Yarn of the Dragon Lady (originally titled The Heavenly Hugs Prayer Shawl Ministry) was the 2017 winner of the American Christian Fiction Writers Genesis award in the Short Novel Category, and she has also been recognized by The Saturday Evening Post where her short story, “I’ll Be Home for Christmas,” was an Honorable Mention Awardee in the 2014 their Great American Fiction Contest.

Mondragón has been active in prayer shawl ministry since 2008 and currently serves as facilitator for the prayer shawl ministry at her church, St. Paul Episcopal in Waxahachie, TX. She also knits with the Circle of Healing at Red Oak United Methodist Church. She is a Level 2 Certified Knitting Instructor through the Craft Yarn Council and teaches beginning knitting at a local yarn store.

Mondragón is the mother of five grown children and has four grandchildren. After 26 years as an Army wife, she has settled in Midlothian, TX with her hero/husband, her laptop, and her yarn stash.

Visit Sharon Mondragón’s website and blog at www.sharonjmondragon.com and follow her on Facebook (Sherry Mondragón) and Twitter (@SJ_Mondragón).

Get your copy of The Unlikely Yarn of the Dragon Lady at Amazon or ChristianBook(dot)com. Check out Sharon's previous visit to our blog HERE.

Hope you enjoyed this peek into Sharon's book, friends and that you'll check back weekly for another edition of Wednesday Words with Friends and Saturday Spotlight.

Until next time take care and God bless.

PamT

#WednesdayWordswithFriends Welcomes Sharon J. Mondragón (@SJ_Mondragón)!

Good Morning from Sam Rayburn Lake!

It's another rainy morning here. Monday was beautiful and we got some fishing in but yesterday and today is too windy and wet. But just getting away from the house is wonderful and restful after last week's craziness LOL! I brought Nora Roberts' Inn Boonsboro trilogy and have read 2 so far. The 3rd is scheduled for today. Reading these books reminds me of my visit to Boonsboro, MD which I shared here. 

'Nuf about me though, today's guest is brand new to our blog, brought to us by Audra Jennings PR so please give Sharon Mondragon a warm, W-E-L-C-O-M-E!

The Secrets of the Wrinkles

A few years ago, my granddaughter was having a conversation with an adult cousin about old people. The cousin commented that old people can be set in their ways, to which Marleigh replied, “They also hide secrets in their wrinkles.”

My first response to this was the awe and pride of a writerly grandma at the sheer poetry of Marleigh’s observation. Poetry lends itself to reflection and contemplation, teasing out the many and ever-deeper meanings of a particularly compelling line. As I’ve thought about this line over the last several years, it has become, for me, a call to action.

I’ve paid attention to the wrinkles in people’s faces since I was a young woman shopping in military commissaries. I was particularly interested in the faces of the retiree wives I encountered there. I could see how they had spent their lives by their wrinkles. I could tell, from the way deep lines had settled around their mouths, that some had spent their entire adult lives angry and displeased. Others had spent most of their lives smiling and laughing, if the lines at the corners of their eyes were any indication. Sometimes I would stop one of those women and tell her, “I hope I look like you when I’m old.” Those faces in which the lines had fallen in pleasant places reminded me to smile and laugh often, so I would look like them someday.

As I’ve aged, however, I’ve come to understand that there is more to this wrinkle thing than I thought. My life is now rich with experience: victories and defeats, joys and sorrows, confusion and aha moments, the perspective that only years of living can give. These lines in my face have stories to tell and wisdom to impart.  In our youth-oriented culture, “the wrinkle crowd” tends to be dismissed. Many of us can’t even text, much less tweet, so what in the world do we have to offer (besides babysitting the grandkids)?

And so, we hide all that we have learned about living in the wrinkles in our faces, from generations sorely in need of all we have concealed there. Some of us even try to hide the wrinkles with miracle creams and Botox injections, trying to appear as clueless and carefree as those who are younger. 

They may be clueless, but they are far from carefree. Young people these days are battling more anxiety than I ever remember feeling in my twenties. They don’t have the perspective of having lived through any number of difficulties and come out the other side, maybe battered, maybe bruised, but with a better idea of their strengths and weaknesses, of their mettle and their courage. This is where the wrinkle crowd comes in. We’ve already been through many of the things that worry them. We’re living proof that setbacks are not the end of the world and can even be the beginning of something new and wonderful that we might never have dreamed of otherwise.

We can come alongside, not to deliver the “when I was your age” lectures we gave our teenagers, but as a steady, praying, and reassuring presence that communicates, “Yes, this is hard. You’re not alone. I’m here. Let’s pray and see what God will do.”

When I was the middle-aged mother of a couple of troubled teens, the denizens of the early service at my church listened patiently to my tale of woe. They never turned a hair, no matter how wild the tale of my sons’ misbehavior. I could rest in their wrinkles long enough to think clearly. Steeped in their love and steadiness, I gathered the courage and wisdom I needed to address the situation, day after day, week after week.

We the Wrinkle Crowd have blazed the trail and our wrinkles are living proof that we’ve endured the scorching sun of adversity on the way. Let us not forget those who trudge behind us, but look back to see them, cheer them on, pray them over the rough terrain. Our wrinkles are a treasure map and it’s time we shared the secrets of how to find the riches of courage, patience, and faith.

Sharon J. Mondragón writes about the place where kindness and courage meet. Her debut novel, The Unlikely Yarn of the Dragon Lady (originally titled The Heavenly Hugs Prayer Shawl Ministry) was the 2017 winner of the American Christian Fiction Writers Genesis award in the Short Novel Category, and she has also been recognized by The Saturday Evening Post where her short story, “I’ll Be Home for Christmas,” was an Honorable Mention Awardee in the 2014 their Great American Fiction Contest.

Mondragón has been active in prayer shawl ministry since 2008 and currently serves as facilitator for the prayer shawl ministry at her church, St. Paul Episcopal in Waxahachie, TX. She also knits with the Circle of Healing at Red Oak United Methodist Church. She is a Level 2 Certified Knitting Instructor through the Craft Yarn Council and teaches beginning knitting at a local yarn store.

Mondragón is the mother of five grown children and has four grandchildren. After 26 years as an Army wife, she has settled in Midlothian, TX with her hero/husband, her laptop, and her yarn stash.

Visit Sharon Mondragón’s website and blog at www.sharonjmondragon.com and follow her on Facebook (Sherry Mondragón) and Twitter (@SJ_Mondragón).

Her debut novel, The Unlikely Yarn of the Dragon Lady is available at Amazon, ChristianBook.com and other places where great Christian fiction is sold.