Hubby and I just returned from a week of camping in Abita Springs, Louisiana—a charming little town where the biggest decision of the day is whether to nap now or after lunch. There isn’t much to do unless you want to drive into New Orleans, and since we’ve already checked that box, doing absolutely nothing felt like a solid life choice.

Especially since I had just come off a high-energy writers’ conference the day before. I went from networking, note-taking, and pretending to be professional… to sitting in a lawn chair contemplating whether flipping a page counts as cardio.

Of course, thanks to modern technology, we were still able to “work” on vacation—by which I mean solving crises for both Older and Younger Son, answering emails, replying to Facebook posts, and receiving calls about the cemetery next to the church and fixing problems with the church’s sound system remotely.

Despite all the interruptions, most of our days were delightfully uneventful: reading, hiking, lounging by the pool, and mastering the fine art of doing nothing without guilt.

Until Friday night.

Friday night is Bingo Night at the campground. This is not just an activity—it is an event. The social highlight. The Super Bowl of folding chairs. And the height of our excitement for the week.

Now, Hubby and I love Bingo. Why? I honestly have no idea. We never—and I mean NEVER—win. On cruises, we confidently hand over alarming amounts of money because “the odds are so good!” Sure, they are. Right up there with me being crowned Miss America… retroactively.

Still, we showed up full of hope. The grand prize? A $10 gift certificate to a local bakery. The other prizes were… let’s just say, less glamorous. But we weren’t in it for the prizes—we were in it for the thrill, the suspense, the glory. And, okay, yes. For the prizes. And also, because there was nothing else to do.

When the game started, only six other people were playing. Six! I started mentally picking out my imaginary bakery purchases. Our odds had never looked better.

Naturally, the first ten numbers called weren’t on either of my cards. As usual. Hubby wasn’t doing much better, and before I even had two numbers in a row (including the free space, which feels like cheating anyway), someone yelled, “BINGO!”

The second game went about the same. Then, as if things weren’t bad enough, more people started wandering in late—casually, like they had better things to do earlier—and THEY started winning. Nothing builds Christian character quite like watching latecomers win the box of large kitchen trash bags you had your eye on.

Then came the last game before the blackout game: Loser Bingo. Now, if you’ve never played Loser Bingo, the goal is simple—don’t have the numbers called. Everyone starts out by standing. When your number is called, you sit down. The last person standing wins.

Finally. A game aligned with my skill set. On the very first number, one of my cards was out. Typical. But fortuitously, we had two cards. I dramatically retired the first one and clung to my second like it was my last shred of hope.

And miracle of miracles… that card did what it had done all night. Nothing. Numbers were called. People dropped like flies. One by one, chairs filled. Until suddenly… it was just me and one other woman. I looked around like, “Is this happening? Am I about to become a Bingo legend?”

The next number was called. We both had it. A tie. But divine justice prevailed. She (a latecomer) had already won earlier that night. So, the prize was awarded to me! Friends, I finally won! My prize? A roll of aluminum foil.

To say I was elated is an understatement. I’m not sure what it says about me that I can only win at LOSER Bingo, but, hey, I’ll take what I can get. After all, winning is winning, and I have the roll of aluminum foil to prove it.

And no, I didn’t win the $10 bakery gift certificate.

For Such a Time

If you like faith-filled, deeply moving, detail-rich historical romance plus star-crossed lovers, you’ll love Anne Greene’s For Such a Time, set in the Civil War era. The novel brings to life the Cherokee experience, the Pony Express, and a lesser-known side of American history with vivid storytelling and strong Christian themes.

Back Cover Description:

A life of danger. A love stronger than death.

What would you do if you fell in love with the daughter of your family’s worst enemy?

Jarrett Ross, son of John Ross whose story is told in Trail of Tears: The Story of John Ross, lives during one of the most turbulent times of America’s history. Caught in the middle of a fifty-year feud, Jarrett Ross and Delight Flint attempt to conquer the odds of star-crossed love.

Jarrett’s faith and strength mature as he survives a hazardous buffalo hunt and Indian initiation rite, a deadly blizzard, the excitement of riding for the Pony Express on its most risky route, and as a pacifist inducted into the Union Army during the worst battles of the Civil War fought in the West.

His home destroyed. His loved one missing. His courage tested.