Lagniappe: something given as a bonus or extra gift. (I used this term in another blog, which was useful. Hope you might see this as helpful to you.)
I’m in the middle of so much stuff! But I did read some very interesting articles from others’ blogs. I don’t have time to share each one properly, but I thought you might be interested in checking them out, if you have the time or inclination.
I do have another blog, which is primarily genealogy-related, and I’m trying to recall how to get access to it. The blog is: Family Circle 14, and I’ve had it for many years — although I lost it for much of that time.
When I can, I’ll post less genealogy-related stuff here and just post it there. In the meantime, here’s my list.
I’ve been experimenting with Nightcafe and am so happy at the way this has turned out.
My prayer is that, when the time comes, I will be greeted by my own children whom I have lost, foster children who passed away in my home, and all the multitudes of ancestors I’ve done the work for.
The tragic Acadians lost in the diaspora called The Great Dispersal that drove many to Louisiana.
To the Ancestors who came to the New World from France and dug trenches called dykes in Nova Scotia. All of these contributed to my bloodline, on both sides of my parents.
One, a veritable hero, Beausoleil Broussard, my direct ancestor that I happen to share with Beyoncé.
Another ancestor, unnamed due to threat of shaming, an ancestor who was the unknowing carrier of the deaf blind and balance scourge of many Cajuns, Usher Syndrome. Another, Tay Sachs syndrome, shared by tight-knit Jewish communities.
To my Louisiana Ancestors, who braved yellow fever, great storms and hurricanes, and sweltering heat. Worst of all, the mosquitoes who ravaged bodies with yellow fever. Even the awful monster, leprosy, inhabited so many bodies, clinics still exist in Louisiana. Yet, they survived. With their celebrations at Mardi Gras, and family crawfish boils, along with cotton picking parties and Saturday night dance halls. My childhood was filled with such great memories! In fact, I was nearly born on my grandfather’s shrimp boat on New Year’s Eve night. The shrimp were running so good, nobody except Mama was in a hurry to get off that boat! I just barely made it to the hospital at Lafayette General (called Charity Hospital at the time. The building’s still there.)
To my one line of Irishmen, the Pepper’s, who came right after the great potato starvation time, who first witnessed persecution, and then, founded a good life of blacksmithing. (My grandmother’s grandmother wasn’t allowed to speak in her native tongue, even at home, but my mother recalls her beautiful “sing-song” accent in her Cajun speak.)
My bedtime storybook, “Sleepy Tales” is very nearly done! I’ve just got one more illustration to complete, and then, it’ll be ready for final review. I’m so excited! It’s a very cute book, I must say.
I just received a message that was so touching, reminding us all of that Sacred, Blessed Thursday So very long ago, when the Lord spoke to His disciples, but they didn’t understand.
Not until they witnessed the Resurrection of Jesus Chridt, our Lord, Savior, and Master of us all. The true sacrifice wasn’t only on the cross.
It happened in the Garden of Gethsemane, when He took upon Himself the total of the sums of the sins of the world.
Think of it! He bore our sins – every one of us! From the beggar to the thief, from the robber to the murderer; from the sinful to the ones who try. He experienced every single thing a human can experience.
Why? So He can know how to succor us. So He’d understand how the Cancer patient felt, how physical pain of every kind felt; how emotional pain felt; how spiritual pain felt; any type of pain a human can experience. He felt it.
He knew that He had to know these things in order for us to trust Him, to believe Him, when He said, “I know. I can take it away from you. Follow Me.”
Oh, the love He has for us! We are truly His brothers and sisters. He is our Elder brother, the firstborn of the Father.
I believe in my heart that He had a relationship with each and every one of us. Before we were born, we knew Him intimately as our Elder brother.
The fact that He bore your sins, my sins, and everyone who ever took a breath here’s sins, that shows the great love He has for us.
If you don’t know that with all your being, pleaseaskHim. He will communicate this fact to you in the way you’ll know it.
Deeply personal.
One on one.
No barriers.
He reaches out to us individually in so many ways. All we have to do is, “Be still and know that I am.”
I’ve had this little book out on Amazon for a while now. Hope you’ve all had a chance to check it out. It’s really sweet; there’s a double story about the dangers that these beautiful ocean turtles experience – many lose their limbs to nets, fishermen’s nets that get caught up in their flippers.
Anyway, I just wanted to share my new video for book # 2 of Discovering Misty.
Please check it out! There’s some great reviews in Goodreads too.
Woohoo! My new book is out! It’s a Luxury Adult Coloring Book. Check it out!
Scientists have discovered that using coloring books actually helps to calm and help the brain focus better.
I wrote about it last night in my blog and now it’s available for purchase. They should have more pictures up in a few days. There’s more than 170 pages to color!
I’m Shirley Ulbrich, writing under the pen names Pages Alight (for my more whimsical and visual storytelling projects) and S.M. Ulbrich (for my fantasy, sci-fi, and dystopian tales). Today I’m thrilled to share that we’re hard at work on a brand-new story book—a project that’s been dancing around in my imagination for quite some time. I can’t wait to tell you more as it takes shape!
In the meantime, my little collection of small notebooks (there are currently three available) continues to bring joy to folks who love to jot down thoughts, sketches, or daily reflections. They’re simple, charming, and perfect for tucking into a bag or keeping by your bedside.
And the big news I’ve been waiting for… my luxury adult coloring book is finally in review! After a couple of rejections (those picky full-bleed page requirements kept tripping us up), it looks like we might see it go live as soon as today or tomorrow. Fingers crossed—I’ll shout it from the rooftops the moment it’s approved and available!
To celebrate the creative energy flowing right now, here are a couple of illustrations I created that didn’t make it into the final story book or coloring pages. I thought you might enjoy them as a little sneak peek into my artistic process:
Sleepy Tales Emma and the Whispering Unicorn
What do you think? Do any of these spark a story idea for you? I’d love to hear your thoughts in the comments!
If you’d like to stay in the loop on the new story book, the coloring book launch, or any of my other creations (under any of my names), feel free to subscribe to the newsletter or follow along on social media. Your support means the world to this indie author and visual storyteller.
Thank you for being part of this creative journey with me. Here’s to more stories, more colors, and more pages alight!
Nestled on the slopes of the Mount of Olives, just east of Jerusalem, lies a quiet garden whose name carries a weight far heavier than its olive trees. Gethsemane. In Aramaic and Hebrew it means “oil press”—the place where olives are crushed until the pure, healing oil flows. There, in the shadow of ancient trees, the Savior of the world chose to be pressed under a burden no mortal could possibly bear.
It was the night before Calvary. The Passover meal had ended. Jesus led His disciples to this familiar spot, then stepped away alone. The scriptures describe what happened next with stark honesty: “And being in an agony he prayed more earnestly: and his sweat was as it were great drops of blood falling down to the ground” (Luke 22:44). He was not merely anticipating the cross. In that garden He took upon Himself every sin, every sorrow, every sickness, and every heartbreak that would ever be felt by any child of God. The weight was so crushing that even the Son of God trembled and asked if the cup could pass from Him—yet He submitted: “Nevertheless not my will, but thine, be done.”
Think about the name again: the oil press. Olives do not yield their richest oil by gentle handling. They must be crushed. The stone rolls over them relentlessly until every drop of life-giving oil is released. In Gethsemane, Jesus became the ultimate olive. He allowed Himself to be pressed so that the oil of salvation could flow to every one of us. The pure, healing, sanctifying power of the Atonement was squeezed from His soul that night.
Now consider your own moments of repentance.
When the Holy Ghost gently (or sometimes not so gently) brings a sin to your remembrance, you feel a pressure in your chest. Guilt. Remorse. A heaviness that makes sleep difficult and peace impossible. That pressure is not punishment—it is the garden of your own Gethsemane. Your heart is being pressed. The old self is being crushed so that something pure can come forth: a broken heart and a contrite spirit. Just as the Savior’s agony produced the oil of redemption, your godly sorrow produces the oil of repentance. It hurts. It is meant to. But it is also the very process that prepares you to receive the healing He already purchased.
I have felt that press. You have too. The tears in the car after a harsh word to a loved one. The sleepless night after realizing you betrayed a trust. The ache that comes when you finally admit you’ve been running from God. In those moments you are not alone. The One who bled in Gethsemane is right beside you, whispering, “I already carried this. Let Me help you release it.”
And here is the beautiful truth that turns every tear into thanksgiving: because He was willing to be pressed to the point of blood, you never have to stay crushed. The same garden that witnessed infinite suffering now offers infinite mercy. The oil that flowed from His agony anoints your wounds, softens your heart, and lights your way home.
So today I stand in awe and say simply, “Thank You.”
Thank You, Jesus, for not running from the press.
Thank You for staying in the garden when every fiber of Your being cried out to leave.
Thank You that because of Your suffering, my repentance is never hopeless—it is healing.
Thank You that the oil of Your Atonement still flows freely for anyone who will come to their own small Gethsemane and say, “Not my will, but Thine.”
Whatever weight you are carrying right now, take it to the garden. Lay it at the feet of the One who already bore it. Let the press do its work. And then rise, forgiven, lighter, and filled with the oil of gladness that only the Savior can give.
He suffered so you could be free.
What a Savior. What a gift. What an oil press.
The Oil Press of Gethsemane
Just as olives must be pressed and crushed to release their purest, healing oil, our Savior willingly suffered in the garden of the oil press. There He bore every sin and sorrow so that the sanctifying oil of His Atonement could flow to every soul who comes with a broken heart and contrite spirit.
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