{"id":109,"date":"2008-03-01T19:53:12","date_gmt":"2008-03-02T01:53:12","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.daysongreflections.com\/\/?p=109"},"modified":"2008-09-16T21:20:08","modified_gmt":"2008-09-17T02:20:08","slug":"the-restorers-journey-by-sharon-hinck-first-day-blog-tour","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.daysongreflections.com\/?p=109","title":{"rendered":"The Restorer’s Journey by Sharon Hinck – FIRST Day Blog Tour"},"content":{"rendered":"

\"FIRST<\/a>It is March FIRST<\/strong>, time for the FIRST Day Blog Tour! (Join our alliance! Click the button!) The FIRST day of every month we will feature an author and his\/her latest book’s FIRST chapter!<\/p>\n

\n

\n

\n

\n

This month’s feature is: <\/strong><\/p>\n

Sharon Hinck<\/a><\/strong><\/p>\n

and her book:<\/span> <\/strong><\/p>\n

The Restorer’s Journey<\/a><\/strong><\/p>\n

Navpress Publishing Group (February 7, 2008)<\/p>\n

ABOUT THE AUTHOR:<\/strong>
\n<\/strong>
\n\"\"<\/a>Sharon Hinck holds a BA in education, and she earned an MA in communication from Regent University in 1986. She spent ten years as the artistic director of a Christian performing arts group, CrossCurrent. That ministry included three short-term mission trips to Hong Kong. She has been a church youth worker, a choreographer and ballet teacher, a homeschool mom, a church organist, and a bookstore clerk. One day she\u2019ll figure out what to be when she grows up, but in the meantime, she\u2019s pouring her imagination into writing. Her stories focus on characters who confront the challenges of a life of faith. She\u2019s published dozens of articles in magazines and book compilations, and released her first novel, The Secret Life of Becky Miller <\/a>(Bethany House), in 2006. In April 2007, she was named \u201cWriter of the Year\u201d at the Mount Hermon Christian Writers Conference. When she isn\u2019t wrestling with words, Sharon enjoys speaking at conferences and retreats. She and her family make their home in Minnesota. She loves to hear from readers, so send a message through the portal into her writing attic on the \u201cContact Sharon\u201d page of her website, http:\/\/www.sharonhinck.com\/<\/a>. She is also an avid blogger…visit Stories for the Hero in All of Us<\/a>.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

The first and second books in The Sword of Lyric series are The Restorer<\/a> and The Restorer\u2019s Son<\/a>. The FIRST chapter shown here is from the third book, The Restorer’s Journey<\/a>. Enjoy!<\/p>\n

AND NOW…THE FIRST CHAPTER:<\/span><\/span> <\/strong>
\n<\/span>
\n\"\"<\/a>
\nChapter One – JAKE<\/p>\n

My mom was freaking out.<\/p>\n

She stared out the dining room window as if major-league monsters were hiding in the darkness beyond the glass. Give me a break. Our neighborhood was as boring as they came. Ridgeview Drive\u2019s square lawns and generic houses held nothing more menacing than basketball hoops and tire swings. Still, Mom\u2019s back was tight, and in the shadowed reflection on the pane, I could see her biting her lip. I didn\u2019t know what to say to make her feel better.<\/p>\n

I ducked back into the kitchen and used a wet rag to wipe off the counters. Clumps of flour turned to paste and smeared in gunky white arcs across the surface. I shook the rag over the garbage can, the mess raining down on the other debris we\u2019d swept up. Broken jars of pasta and rice filled the bag. I stomped it down, twist-tied the bag and jogged it out to the trashcan by the garage. Usually, I hated the chore of taking out the trash. Not tonight. Maybe if I erased the signs of our intruders, Mom would relax a little.<\/p>\n

So Cameron and Medea dropped a few things when they were looking for supplies. No biggie. Why did my folks have such a problem with those two anyway? They\u2019d been great to me. I trudged back into the house, rubbing my forehead. Wait. That wasn\u2019t right. A shiver snaked through my spine. Never mind. They were probably long gone by now.<\/p>\n

\u201cKitchen\u2019s done.\u201d I carried the broom into the dining room, hoping Mom had finished in there. But she was still hugging her arms and staring out the window.<\/p>\n

She turned and looked at the china cabinet, then squeezed her eyes shut as if they were hurting. \u201cWhy?\u201d she whispered.<\/p>\n

Glass shards jutted from one cabinet door, and the other hung crooked with wood splinters poking out. Broken china covered the floor. Mom and Dad had been collecting those goofy teacups ever since they got married.<\/p>\n

I pushed the broom against the edge of the fragments, but the chinking sound made her wince, so I stopped.<\/p>\n

Dad strode past with an empty garbage bag from the hall closet and stopped to give my mom a squeeze. He nodded toward me. \u201cHoney, Jake\u2019s alive. Nothing else matters. We all got back safe.\u201d He leaned his head against hers, and I edged toward the kitchen in case they started kissing. For an old married couple, they were a little too free with their public displays of affection. No guy wants to watch his parents act mushy.<\/p>\n

But my mom didn\u2019t look like she was in a kissing mood. She pressed her lips together. I had a sneaking suspicion that she was more freaked out about what had happened to my hand than our house. Like when I had cancer as a kid. She\u2019d gotten really stressed about the details of a church fundraiser and cranky about everything that went wrong\u2014stuff that wasn\u2019t even important. It gave her a place to be angry when she was trying to be brave about a bigger problem.<\/p>\n

\u201cIt\u2019s only a piece of furniture.\u201d Dad was doing his soothing voice. When would he catch on that only made things worse?<\/p>\n

\u201cOnly a piece of furniture we bought as a wedding gift to each other.\u201d She swiped at some wet spots on her face. \u201cOnly twenty years\u2019 worth of poking around garage sales and thrift stores together. Don\u2019t tell me what it\u2019s only! Okay?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cOkay.\u201d Dad backed away from her prickles.<\/p>\n

I made another ineffectual push with the broom. My folks didn\u2019t argue much, but when they did, it grated like a clutch struggling to find third gear. Typical over-responsible firstborn, I wanted to fix it but didn\u2019t know how.<\/p>\n

Mom picked up a Delft saucer, smashed beyond repair, and laid the pieces gently into the garbage bag. Dad folded his arms and leaned against the high back of one of the chairs. \u201cI can fix the cabinet. That splintered door will need to be replaced, but the other one just needs new hinges. I can put in new glass.\u201d His eyes always lit up when he talked about a woodworking project. The man loved his tools.<\/p>\n

Mom smiled at him. Her tension faded, and she got all moony-eyed, so I ducked into the kitchen just as the doorbell rang. Thank heaven. \u201cPizza\u2019s here!\u201d I yelled.<\/p>\n

Dad paid the delivery guy, and I carried the cartons into the living room. Flopping onto one end of the couch, I pried open the lid. \u201cHey, who ordered green peppers? Mom, you\u2019ve gotta quit ruining good pizza with veggies.\u201d<\/p>\n

That made her laugh. \u201cWe\u2019d better save a few pieces for the other kids.\u201d She cleared the Legos off the coffee table and handed me a napkin.<\/p>\n

I gladly surrendered the top pizza box, along with its green pepper, and dove into the pepperoni below. \u201cWhere is everyone?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cKaren\u2019s spending the night at Amanda\u2019s\u2014trying out her new driver\u2019s license. Jon and Anne are at Grandma\u2019s. But if they see the pizza boxes when they get home tomorrow . . . \u201d<\/p>\n

I nodded. \u201cYep. Pure outrage. I can hear it now. \u2018It\u2019s not fair. Jake always gets to have extra fun.\u2019\u201d I did a pretty good impression of the rug rats. What would the kids think if they found out what else they had missed? This had been the strangest Saturday the Mitchell family had ever seen.<\/p>\n

I popped open a can of Dr. Pepper. My third. Hey, I\u2019d earned some extra caffeine. \u201cSo, what do we tell the kids?\u201d<\/p>\n

Mom smiled and looked me up and down, probably thinking I was one of the kids. When would it sink in that I was an adult now? I guzzled a third of my pop and set it down with a thump. \u201cWe could tell them there was a burglar, but then they\u2019d want to help the police solve the case, and they\u2019d never stop asking questions.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cGood point.\u201d Mom licked sauce from her finger. \u201cJon and Anne would break out the detective kit you gave them for Christmas.\u201d<\/p>\n

Dad tore a piece of crust from his slice of pepperoni. \u201cIf we finish cleaning everything, I don\u2019t think they\u2019ll pay much attention. The cabinet is the only obvious damage. If they ask, we\u2019ll just say it got bumped and fell.\u201d<\/p>\n

Dad wanted us to lie? So not like him. Then again, when Kieran told me Dad wasn\u2019t originally from our world, I realized there were a lot of things he\u2019d never been honest about. Now I was part of the family secret, too.<\/p>\n

He rested his piece of pizza on the cardboard box and looked at Mom. \u201cDo we need to warn them?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWarn them?\u201d She mumbled around a mouth full of melted cheese.<\/p>\n

\u201cIn case Cameron and Medea come back.\u201d His voice was calm, but I suddenly had a hard time swallowing. Something cold twisted in me when he said their names. The same cold that had numbed my bones when I\u2019d woken up in the attic. Why? They\u2019d taken care of me. No, they\u2019d threatened me. Confusing images warred inside my brain.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou think they\u2019ll come back?\u201d My baritone went up in pitch, and I quickly took another sip of pop.<\/p>\n

Dad didn\u2019t answer for a moment. \u201cIt depends on why they came. If they plan to stay in our world, we need to find them\u2014stop them. But my guess is that Cameron wants to return to Lyric with something from our world that he can use there. That means they\u2019ll be back to go through the portal.\u201d<\/p>\n

Mom sank deeper into the couch and looked out the living room windows. At the curb, our family van shimmered beneath a streetlight.<\/p>\n

They might be out there, too. They could be watching us right this second.<\/p>\n

\u201cMaybe we should call the police.\u201d Mom\u2019s voice sounded thin. I\u2019d suggested that earlier. After all, someone had broken in\u2014well, broken out.<\/p>\n

Dad snorted. \u201cAnd tell them what?\u201d<\/p>\n

He had a point, but it\u2019s not like there was a rulebook for dealing with visitors from other universes. Unless you attended Star Trek conventions. \u201cSo what\u2019s your plan?\u201d I asked.<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019ll get extra locks tomorrow. Maybe look into an alarm system.\u201d Dad believed every problem could be solved with his Home Depot credit card. He turned to me. \u201cCan you remember more about your conversations with Cameron? What did he ask you about? What did he seem interested in?\u201d<\/p>\n

A shudder moved through me, and pain began pulsing behind my eyes.<\/p>\n

Mom gave Dad a worried glance, then rested a hand on my arm. \u201cIt\u2019s okay, honey. We don\u2019t have to talk about it right now.\u201d She smoothed my hair back from my face.<\/p>\n

\u201cNo problem.\u201d I brushed her hand away, sprawled back on the couch, and studied the ceiling. \u201cIt just seems like it was all a dream.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat\u2019s the last thing you remember clearly?\u201d Dad pulled his chair closer and watched me.<\/p>\n

\u201cBraide Wood.\u201d I closed my eyes and smiled. \u201cIt reminded me of summer camp. And I was so tired of running and hiding in caves. I finally felt safe. Tara fussed over me, and I taught Dustin and Aubrey how to play soccer. It felt like home.\u201d<\/p>\n

I struggled to remember the rest. For some reason my memories were tangled up, like the time I had a major fever and took too much Nyquil. Mom and Dad waited.<\/p>\n

\u201cI went to see Morsal Plains with Tara. Brutal. The grain was all black and it smelled weird. Tara told me about the attack. How Hazor poisoned it on purpose and how Susan the Restorer led the army to protect Braide Wood.\u201d I squinted my eyes open and looked sideways at my mom. They\u2019d told me she had ridden into battle with a sword. \u201cUnbelievable.\u201d<\/p>\n

Even though she was watching me with a worried pinch to her eyes, she smiled. \u201cI know. I lived it, and it\u2019s hard for me to believe.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cAnyway, I hiked back to Tara\u2019s house, and some guys came to take me to Cameron. He made a big fuss over me. Said it was his job to welcome guests to the clans. Said I\u2019d run into bad company but he\u2019d make it up to me. He gave me something to drink, and there was this lady. She was amazing.\u201d No matter how fuzzy my memories were, Medea was easy to remember. The long curly hair, the sparkling eyes, the dress that clung to all the right places. My cheeks heated. \u201cI can\u2019t remember everything we talked about. She made me feel important, like I wasn\u2019t just some teenage kid. It was . . . \u201d I sat taller and angled away from my parents, my jaw tightening. \u201cShe helped me realize that no one else had ever really understood me. I wanted to become a guardian. I had an important job to do.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cJake.\u201d Dad\u2019s voice was sharp, and I flinched. \u201cThe woman you met was a Rhusican. They poison minds. Don\u2019t trust everything you\u2019re feeling right now.\u201d<\/p>\n

A pulsing ache grabbed the base of my neck. I pressed the heels of my hands against my eyes. Mom\u2019s hand settled on my shoulder, and I stiffened. Weird static was messing with my head.<\/p>\n

\u201cJake, they used you to find the portal. She doesn\u2019t really understand you.\u201d Mom\u2019s voice was quiet and sounded far away. I felt like I was falling away inside myself. She squeezed my shoulder. \u201cRemember my favorite psalm?\u201d<\/p>\n

I managed a tight smile. \u201cHow could I forget? You made us learn the whole thing one summer. \u2018O Lord, you have searched me and you know me\u2026\u2019 blah, blah, blah.\u201d<\/p>\n

Despite my smart aleck tone, the words took hold and some of the static in my brain quieted.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat\u2019s the rest?\u201d Dad pressed me.<\/p>\n

What was he trying to prove? That I couldn\u2019t think straight? I could have told him that. I struggled to form the words.<\/p>\n

\u201c\u2018You know when I sit and when I rise; you perceive my thoughts from afar. You discern my going out and my lying down; you are familiar with all my ways.\u2019\u201d Once I got started, I rattled off the verses by rote. In some strange way, the words actually stopped the sensation of falling away inside myself.<\/p>\n

\u201cSounds like there\u2019s someone who understands you a lot better than Cameron and Medea. Remember that.\u201d Dad stood up and tousled my hair. Then he yawned. \u201cLet\u2019s get some sleep.\u201d<\/p>\n

Mom didn\u2019t move. She was still watching me. \u201cHow\u2019s the hand?\u201d<\/p>\n

I rubbed my palm. \u201cStill fine. Weird, huh?\u201d I held it out.<\/p>\n

A scar, faint as a white thread, marked the skin where broken glass had cut a deep gash an hour earlier. My lungs tightened. What did it mean?<\/p>\n

Dad shook his head. \u201cCome on. Bedtime.\u201d<\/p>\n

Mom hesitated, but then stood and gave me a quick kiss on the forehead. \u201cGood night, Jake. We\u2019ll talk more tomorrow.\u201d<\/p>\n

Oh, great. She sure loved talking. I looked at Dad. His mouth twitched. \u201cI\u2019ll get us signed up for some practice space at the fencing club.\u201d<\/p>\n

Good. He hadn\u2019t forgotten his promise. I couldn\u2019t make sense of my trip through the portal, or the sudden-healing thing, but I knew I wanted to learn to use a sword.<\/p>\n

My parents gathered up the pizza stuff and carried it to the kitchen, out of sight, but not out of earshot.<\/p>\n

\u201cIf we hide the portal stones Cameron and Medea won\u2019t be able to go back,\u201d Dad said over the crinkling of a sheet of aluminum foil.<\/p>\n

Someone slammed the fridge door shut hard enough to make the salad dressing bottles rattle. \u201cWe don\u2019t want them running around our world. They don\u2019t belong here.\u201d Mom sounded tense.<\/p>\n

\u201cI know. We have to send them back. But on our terms. Without anything that would hurt the People of the Verses. And what about Jake?\u201d<\/p>\n

Silence crackled, and I leaned forward from my spot on the couch.<\/p>\n

When Mom refused to answer, Dad spoke again, so quiet I almost couldn\u2019t hear. \u201cWe need to keep the portal available in case he\u2019s needed there. But how will we know?\u201d<\/p>\n

Needed there? Did he really think . . .?<\/p>\n

I waited for them to head back to their bedroom, then slipped down the steps from the kitchen to the basement. Most of the basement was still unfinished \u2013 except for my corner bedroom and Dad\u2019s workbench.<\/p>\n

I hurried into my room and shut out the world behind me. Tonight everything looked different. The movie posters, the bookshelves, the soccer team trophy. Smaller, foreign, unfamiliar.<\/p>\n

I pulled a thumbtack from my bulletin board and scratched it across my thumb. A line of blood appeared, but in a microsecond the tiny scrape healed completely. I had assumed the healing power was some heebie-jeebie thing that Medea had given me, or that had transferred over from my interactions with Kieran.<\/p>\n

But now that my head had stopped throbbing, I could put the pieces together. Excitement stronger than caffeine zipped around my nerve endings. My folks thought this was more than a weird effect left over from my travels through the portal. They thought I might be the next Restorer.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

It is March FIRST, time for the FIRST Day Blog Tour! (Join our alliance! Click the button!) The FIRST day of every month we will feature an author and his\/her latest book’s FIRST chapter! This month’s feature is: Sharon Hinck and her book: The Restorer’s Journey Navpress Publishing Group (February 7, 2008) ABOUT THE AUTHOR: […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_et_pb_use_builder":"","_et_pb_old_content":"","_et_gb_content_width":"","footnotes":""},"categories":[8],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-109","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-books"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.daysongreflections.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/109"}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.daysongreflections.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.daysongreflections.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.daysongreflections.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.daysongreflections.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=109"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/www.daysongreflections.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/109\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":441,"href":"https:\/\/www.daysongreflections.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/109\/revisions\/441"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.daysongreflections.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=109"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.daysongreflections.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=109"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.daysongreflections.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=109"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}