Enough of Me by Priscilla Peters (Excerpt)

Welcome to the Enough of Me blog blitz and giveaway, hosted by JustRead Publicity Tours!

About the book:


Title:  Enough  of  Me:  Winning  the  Tug-of-War  Between  Our  Flesh  and  Our  Mission,  an  8-Week  Bible  Study
Author:  Priscilla  Peters
Publisher:  Ambassador  International
Release  Date:  May  11,  2018
Genre:  Christian,  NonFiction,  Bible  Study

I'm  living  the  dream  in  my  fancy-pants  world,  and  I've  got  the  Instagram  feed  to  prove  it.

Who  am  I  kidding?  I'm  literally  holding  it  together  with  one  more  cup  of  coffee,  yesterday's  dry  shampoo,  and  a  prayer.

So  I  finally  said  enough.  Enough  of  me.  I'm  bidding  farewell  to  chasing  emptiness  and  exchanging  it  for  more  of  Jesus.

If  we  agree  with  Paul  in  Acts  20:24  that  our  lives  are  worth  nothing  unless  we  use  them  for  finishing  the  work  of  telling  others  the  Good  News  -  where  are  we  in  our  quest  to  get  busy  for  Jesus?  In  our  world  of  hashtags,  hair  color,  and  having  it  all  together,  chances  are  we  aren't  accomplishing  much. 

Enough  of  Me  is  an  8-week  Bible  study  for  women  focused  on  what  God's  Word  has  to  say  about  the  tug-of-war  between  our  flesh  and  our  mission.  The  study  explores  the  barriers  that  stand  between  where  we  are  today  and  where  God  wants  to  use  us  to  finish  His  work. 

Do  you  have  a  nagging  in  your  heart  for  more  purpose?  Are  you  right  smack  dab  in  the  middle  of  a  tug-of-war  between  your  flesh  and  your  mission? 

Often  we  want  to  live  out  the  purpose  and  mission  God  has  for  us,  but  we're  too  distracted,  exhausted,  and  empty.  Maybe  it's  time  to  say  enough  to  the  excuses,  anxiety,  and  interruptions  that  get  in  our  way.  Could  it  be  we're  so  busy  chasing  emptiness  and  playing  the  people-pleasing  game,  that  we  can't  find  time  to  live  on  mission? 

It's  time  to  take  a  deep  breath  and  do  some  inventory.  Let's  dig  in  and  see  what  God's  Word  has  to  say  about  this  tug-of-war  between  our  flesh  and  our  mission.  Let's  figure  out  ways  to  quit  chasing  emptiness  and  take  bold  steps  of  obedience.  Let's  discover  how  we  can  glorify  God  and  steer  people  to  Jesus  in  our  cubicles,  at  our  dinner  tables,  in  our  mom-groups,  and  with  people  we  encounter  every  day. 

What  would  happen  if  we  said  Enough  of  Me  .  .  .  more  Jesus.

PURCHASE  A  COPY:  Goodreads|  Amazon  |  B&N

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EXCERPT:

If  we  believe  that  God  is  good,  that  means  we  know  for  sure  that  we  are  good,  because  we  were  made  in  the  image  of  God. 

Yes,  we  messed  it  up  with  our  sin,  but  Jesus  changed  everything. 

My  identity  is  in  Christ,  not  in  the  identity  of  the  woman  I’m  chasing  after.  God  didn’t  make  us  to  chase  after  an  identity  we’re  not.  He  made  us  in  His  image,  for  His  Kingdom,  to  live  out  His  purpose. 

If  we  know  these  things  for  sure,  what  the  heck  happened?  When  did  we  end  up  at  our  kitchen  table  weeping  over  hashtags,  hair  color  and  having  it  all  together? 

It’s  time  to  dig  deep,  pull  ourselves  out  of  the  pit  of  emptiness,  and  walk  in  the  identity  of  being  made  new  in  the  goodness  of  God. 

Are  you  wedged  between  who  you  think  you  have  to  be  and  who  you  really  are?    If  yes,  what  are  you  striving  and  believing  you  have  to  earn,  accomplish,  complete,  or  be  that  is  creating  brokenness  in  your  identity?  Pray  through  your  list  individually,  and  ask  God  to  remove  each  piece  of  brokenness  from  your  identity  and  replace  it  with  the  truth  of  who  you  are  in  Him.

(from  Week  Six,  Day  One  of  Enough  of  Me  Bible  Study)

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ABOUT  THE  AUTHOR:

Priscilla Peters is a graduate of Ouachita Baptist University with a B.A. in Mass Communications and a Minor in Speech Communication. She has been married to her husband Coby for 10 years, and they have a blended family of six children. Priscilla is the Vice President of Marketing for the largest advertising agency in the transportation industry, and she’s been in the marketing and advertising business for 20 years. She serves as the Assistant Leader for the Real Women Ministry at That.Church in Sherwood, Arkansas. She speaks often, both in her professional career at industry conferences and trade shows, and at women s ministry speaking engagements. When Priscilla isn’t at the office working, speaking at Real Women events, or blogging, she is busy cheering on her Arkansas Razorbacks, chaperoning her daughter at her competitive dance events, and laughing way too loud about pretty much anything and everything. 

CONNECT WITH AUTHOR: 

Website | Facebook | YouTube | Instagram

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GIVEAWAY

Ambassador International is giving away:  

Grand Prize: (1) print copy of Enough of Me (US Only)  
PLUS 5 more winners will receive an ebook copy of Enough of Me (open internationally, except where prohibited by law)  

Enter via the Rafflecopter giveaway below. Giveaway will begin at midnight May 19, 2018 and last through 11:59pm May 26, 2018. Winners will be notified within a week of close of the giveaway and given 48 hours to respond or a new winner will be chosen.

Giveaway is subject to the policies found here.

a Rafflecopter giveaway

 

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          Ty Porter liked her -- her! -- which made her the luckiest girl in Vegas.  Their very good fortune during the past two hours at the craps table hardly compared.

          Celia picked up the dice and gave them a shake.  The group of players gathered around the table focused their attention on her.  Some called out encouragement.

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          Their excitement drowned out her rationality.  Several players raised glasses.  Others added additional chips to their bets.  All heartily approved of Ty's plan.  Apparently, the decision to hang a lifetime commitment on the roll of two dice made perfect sense to sloshed tourists in Vegas.   

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 Chapter One

January 1895

Lydia Barrington Scarbrough had promised herself three years ago that she'd never let the joy of her wedding day fade from her memory. Now if only she could, life would be easier, for remembering it made her daily mundane tasks seem like captivity. She stood at the kitchen sink, scrubbing the utensils she'd used to prepare her stew. She stood here every evening at this time.

She could still see herself that day, the youngest Barrington child, standing in white in the gazebo, her favorite childhood refuge, with Hamilton and the minister. Winter flowers and ferns had adorned the gazebo, and lace bows had encircled every column. The Live Oaks mansion had never looked so warm and inviting. A banquet fit for a king and an evening of dancing had ensured the guests would never forget the long-awaited union between Lydia and her prince.

However, Hamilton hadn't kept his promises. Promises to forsake ambition for her. Promises to take her with him on his travels. He'd said he was doing it all for her, but his motives mattered not for he was doing it all without her. Once he'd captured her heart and claimed her as his wife, he'd chased affluence and societal acceptance but had failed to include her in his world. She loved him still. She always would. Did his river of love run as deep?

Hamilton's buggy ambled up the sandy path, lined with hemlocks and palmetto palms. Plunging her hands into the dishwater, Lydia pushed her dreadful thoughts away. There was no room in a woman's mind for regret or doubt. No room for fretting over missed parties and forgotten ball gowns.

She'd talk to him soon about her concerns, but today was not the day. After a day in St. Andrews filled with appointments and the long chilly ride home, he'd want a hot meal and his warm-hearted wife to sit with him beside the fire. Lydia straightened her shoulders and sighed. Hamilton opened the back door, and she fixed a smile upon her face.

"Hello, my love." Hamilton stepped up behind Lydia and wrapped his arms around her waist. He positioned a kiss upon her neck after nudging away with his nose a rebellious curl that had escaped her bun.

"Hello." Lydia closed her eyes and leaned into him, longing for his touch to soothe the ache in her heart.

"Are you well?" Hamilton turned her around to face him, dishwater dripping on to the floor.

Lydia wiped her hands on her apron. Her knees buckled at the sight of his strong jaw and squared shoulders. She dove into the waters of his sea-green eyes but tried to resist the current. She wanted to be angry with him, after all. However, when he hugged her, she submitted to the riptide and accepted his love.

The lines across his forehead relaxed as he studied her face—her mouth and then her eyes. He'd told her a thousand times that her eyes were like blue diamonds. If only he'd realize he was the one that put the sparkle in them and that their lackluster now was because he'd spent little time with her of late.

"Lydia?" He cocked his head to the left and tossed his dark hair out of his eyes. Behind him, the robin's-egg-blue wall accented his eyes, and Lydia sunk even deeper into them. "Yes, I'm fine."

"What have you done today to occupy your time while I was away?"

"The same things I do every day." She willed a smile to her face.

"Well, good then." Hamilton released her, and she stumbled into the iron sink. He removed his suit coat, hung it on the hook by the door, and descended into his chair at the kitchen table. "What are we having for supper?"

"Stew."

"Smells good. I have to get to bed early tonight. I leave for Georgia tomorrow to meet with several grocers about carrying our oranges, limes, and grapefruits. After the freeze last month, we can't afford to turn away opportunities." He picked up the St. Andrews newspaper. "Since the gold reserves fell and the stock market crashed, more people are trying to sell goods, and I've got to prove myself to these grocers."

Lydia slumped, ignoring the report on the nation's financial status and the recollection of the aromatic orchard in the summer months. Why couldn't she travel with Hamilton? Why hadn't his father continued to sell porcelain china and silverware? The potential for exotic travel had been much greater then. The beauty and abundance of the orchards paled in comparison to adventure. Hamilton's face showed his weariness.

"Georgia again? When will you be back?" The room flickered before her eyes, and she leaned against the sink.

Hamilton's eyes remained on the newspaper. "It'll take more than a week probably. You know how long it takes to travel this time of year. I'll take the train part of the way, but then we'll go by coach the last leg of the journey. The roads are difficult to travel."

What he dreaded, she longed to do.

"You should stay with your parents. That way I'll not have to worry about you."

Lydia took the white milk glass pitcher from the table by the sink and walked to the corner of the room to the water pump. She pumped her frustrations into the pitcher and groaned under her breath. "What will keep me from worrying about you?" The pitcher overflowed on to the soapstone below, and Lydia grabbed the rag from her apron to wipe up the excess water.

"You've nothing to worry about, Lydia."

She brushed her hair out of her face and carried the pitcher to the coal stove. She poured water into the cast iron stew pot and some into the coffee pot for after dinner. "Well, I prefer to go with you."

"That's out of the question."

She sighed. "Then I prefer to stay here. Your father and mother will watch after me, although I don't need watching after." She opened the top drawer in the spice box and took out a pinch of salt. She tossed it in the pot and wiped her hand on her skirt.

"You'll be more comfortable with your parents."

She lifted her gaze to the ceiling. "I'll be more comfortable here. When I go home, they treat me like a child. Why can I not go with you?" She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye and prayed he'd feel her desperation.

Hamilton looked up and smiled. "The travel would be too harsh on you, my sweet. It's cold in Georgia this time of year, and I fear you'd be dreadfully miserable."

She raised her eyebrows. "On the contrary, Hamilton. I'll be dreadfully miserable home alone without you." She cast a faint smile in his direction and stirred the contents of the pot with fury.

"That's why I want you to stay with your parents. So you won't be alone."

"Do you not want me to come with you? This month is our third anniversary, and it'd be so nice to get away together." She tasted her concoction and opened the spice box once again to retrieve the black pepper.

"I know. However, it's not a matter of whether I'd like you to be there with me. Of course, I'll miss you, but I'll be about my business. This won't be a trip of leisure." He rubbed the back of his neck.

The ticking of the New Haven clock on the shelf failed to match the beating of Lydia's heart. "Couldn't we take a day or so to explore Georgia?"

"No, not this time. Maybe next time."

She nodded and allowed her shoulders to slump. "Next time." It's always next time.

***

"Your stew made me forget about my tiresome day, Lydia. There's nothing quite like a meal made with loving hands."

"I'm glad you liked it." She mustered a smile from deep within, but a cloud of rejection hung over her head. "Have you given any more thought to letting me go with you to Georgia? I can have my valise packed in no time. As your wife, I could be a great representative of our business and our produce."

"No, I haven't given any more thought to it." Hamilton laughed. "It's not the right time."

Lydia rocked in front of the blazing fire, the rocking chair taking her nowhere as it pitched forward and back. Her eyes slid above the fireplace to the painting of them on the beach a handful of years ago. Where had the urgency to be together gone?

"Why are you so desperate to leave home?" Hamilton pulled socks from his drawer and packed them away in his case.

"I'm not desperate, Hamilton. I simply would like to spend time with you away from here—away from the constant interruptions of family. Doing little more than wifely duties suffers in comparison to a trip to Georgia." She stared into the fire, her hope turning to ash.

"I see. There'll be other times to go away though. Winter isn't a good time to take a woman on a trip. You'll be much happier here." He removed his shirt, stepped out of his pants, and walked over to his side of the bed. "I'm going to bed. Are you ready?"

"No, I need to clean up a few things in the kitchen and then I'll come." Lydia stood.

"See you in a bit then." Hamilton walked to her side, leaned over and pressed his lips onto her forehead. "Wake me when you come to bed. I'd love to spend some time together before I leave." He ran his thumb across the nape of her neck, impressing his meaning into her skin.

Did she have to show Hamilton affection on this night? Why didn't he want her for more than that? She tried to find satisfaction with just being a wife, but she wasn't. She needed more. Why wasn't she content with the life God had given her—with the man she'd chosen?

Lydia's heart stirred with verses she'd found not long after her marriage to Hamilton—Psalm 30:11-12. The words flooded her memory like the ocean tide on the sandy beaches of Shell Island on a summer morning.

"Thou hast turned for me my mourning into dancing: thou hast put off my sackcloth, and girded me with gladness; to the end that my glory may sing praise to thee, and not be silent. O Lord my God, I will give thanks unto thee forever."

Her chest trembled. Tonight she would honor God and bless her husband.

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