Jill Weatherholt

Writing Stories of Love, Faith and Happy Endings While Enjoying the Journey


Second Chances

Image courtesy of morguefile.com

Image courtesy of morguefile.com

One day, many years ago, my mother told me a story about her round of golf. On this particular day, she and three other women were playing their weekly game. When they got to a par-3 hole, which means you have three shots to get the ball into the hole, each woman took their turn.

One woman hit her tee shot, the first shot, and it was a wild hook into the bushes. She proceeded to pull another ball from her bag saying, “I’m going to hit again.” The rules of golf prohibit a player from hitting again without taking a penalty, but no one in the foursome spoke up.

She teed up her ball and readied herself to hit. Good contact was made and the ball soared toward the green. To everyone’s surprise the ball went straight into the hole. The ladies cheered, “Nice shot,” while the woman jumped up and down announcing, “I got a hole in one.”

Confused, the women all looked at one another until one finally spoke. “That was your second shot, so it’s not a legitimate hole in one.”

Apparently, the woman thought she deserved a second chance. She marked her scorecard with a one and proceeded to the next hole.

What about you? Do you believe in second chances in life or in love?

Speaking of second chances, my first Love Inspired Harlequin book, that will release in March, 2017, has been officially titled, “Second Chance Romance.”


Just Delete it Already

Image Courtesy of Morguefile.com

Image Courtesy of Morguefile.com


I’m a hoarder. Not stuff, but emails.

Recently, I noticed that daily emails I receive from various sites and blogs weren’t making it to my inbox. When I tried to re-subscribe to those that had gone MIA, I received a message that I was already a subscriber. A few weeks later, I stopped receiving email from friends who said they had emailed. Something was wrong.

When I searched Outlook’s help section, there were several reason explanations. The one that jumped out at me was “You’ve reached your storage capacity.”

Okay, I knew I had at least fifty folders on various topics where I’d saved emails over the years, so I began to investigate the content of each folder. When I opened the folder labeled “Writing,” I found my problem. Since late 2010, I had saved over 4000 emails from writing blogs, literary agent blogs, writers whose books I loved, so I emailed them to let them know and they responded. All were emails I had read when initially received, but I found them helpful, so I decided to save them for future reference.

As I scrolled through email after email, I realized that future hadn’t arrived and probably never would. That’s when I began the daunting task of deciding which were keepers and which had to go. In the end, I saved the emails from other writers and deleted everything else. After all, I have bookcases packed with craft books that I’ve hoarded over the years. Of course, that’s another confession for another time.

Do you hit delete after reading your emails?

P.S. One email I did receive recently was from my editor at Harlequin. The release date for my book is March, 2017.  The working title is CAPTURE THE DREAM, but that will change.


The Storms in Life

stormThose of you who’ve followed my blog for any length of time know that my posts are typically brief. I’m aware that everyone is busy, so the last thing you want is a long-winded post.

This week, I’m stepping outside of my guidelines to share a story that I hope you’ll take the time to read.

Lately, many of my lifelong friends, as well as a few blogging friends have experienced challenges in their lives. Some have faced the death of a loved one, a life-changing illness, or an incident that has left one fearful of the future.  

Below, I’d like to share a story that was mailed to me by the mother of one of those dear friends. It was written by Roselyn Aronson.  My hope is that you’ll find it as comforting as I did.

Mr. Tentmaker, it was nice living in this tent when it was strong and secure and the sun was shining and the air was warm.

But, Mr. Tentmaker, it’s scary now.

My tent is acting like it’s not going to hold together. The poles seem weak and they shift with the wind, a couple of the stakes have wriggled loose from the sand, and worst of all, the canvas has a rip. It no longer protects me from beating ran or stinging flies.

It’s scary in here, Mr. Tentmaker. Last week I was sent to the repair shop and some repairman tried to patch the rip in my canvas. It didn’t help much, though, because the patch pulled away from the edges and now the tear is worse.

What troubled me most, Mr. Tentmaker is that the repairmen didn’t seem to notice that I was still in the tent. They just worked on the canvas while I shivered inside. I cried out once, but no one heard me.

I guess my first real question is, “Why did you give me such a flimsy tent? I can see by looking around the campground that some of the tents are much stronger and more stable than mine.  Why, Mr. Tentmaker, did you pick a tent of such poor quality for me and even more importantly, what do you intend to do about it?”

“Oh, little tent dweller,” as the Creator and Provider of tents, “I know all about you and your tent and I love you both.

I made a tent for myself once and lived in it on your campground. My tent was venerable too, and some vicious attackers ripped it to pieces while I was still in it. It was a terrible experience but you’ll be glad to know they couldn’t hurt me. In fact, the whole occurrence was as a tremendous advantage because it is this very victory over my enemy that frees me to be of present help to you.

Little tent dweller, I am now prepared to come and live in your tent with you, if you will invite me.  You will learn, as we dwell together, that real security comes from my being in your tent with you.  When the storms come, you can huddle in my arms and I’ll hold you. When the canvas rips, we’ll go to the repair shop together.

Someday, little tent dweller, your tent will collapse (for I’ve only designed it for temporary use).  When it does, you and I will leave together. (I promise not to leave before you do.) Then, free of all that would hinder or restrict, we’ll move to our permanent home and together forever rejoice and be glad.”


And the Answer Is…



For years, Derek and I have had a “friendly” competition each night. No matter how busy we are, we always take time out to watch Jeopardy together.

I’ll admit, he answers correctly more often than I do, but that’s okay.

This year, we’ve had a few surprises while watching.


Images Courtesy of JillWeatherholt.com

On January 16, 2016, during the final Jeopardy round, each contestant lost all of their money, leaving the show with no champion. Apparently this had only happened three times in the shows history.

That was a first for us, but what we saw a few months later, left us scratching our heads.


Was this a technical issue?


What the heck was going on? Why were things upside down and backward?

Another shot, which I failed to capture showed the host, Alex Trebek standing at the podium with a 1980’s perm.

We waited for an explanation, but none was given. That night, we turned off the TV wondering if there was some sort of technical glitch. Neither one of us made the connection that it was April 1st…April Fool’s Day.


Will either one of us become the next Jeopardy champion? It’s highly unlikely.

What’s made you scratch your head recently?


Just Call Me Jilly Bean

Image Courtesy of https://en.wikipedia.org

Image Courtesy of https://en.wikipedia.org

When I was a kid, I loved to watch Leave it to Beaver. Looking back, I think what I liked the most about the show were the character’s nicknames—Whitey, Lumpy and of course, the Beave. While in elementary school, I never had a nickname, but I always wanted one.

Later, the show Happy Days became one of my favorites. With nicknames like The Fonz, Ralph Malph, and Potsie, it seemed everyone had a nickname except for me.

Then in high school, it happened. I finally got my first nickname. It was Nerd. My best friend who I’d known since we were eight years-old came up with the name and from then on, we were both Nerds. Even today, we rarely refer to each other by our real name, it just doesn’t sound right.

In college, I became, Jilly Bean, Jillow, Pill and Jillster. Later, I was Sleepy. For someone who’d never had a nickname, these days, I find myself answering to many names.

Do you have a nickname?


What’s with this sock?

sockI’m popping my head up from a new project to see if any of you can answer a question.

We’ve all voiced our issues with the changes that occur within WordPress…some good, some not so good.  It’s free, so I tend to go with the flow.

One thing thing that’s boggled my mind is why a particular image I posted several years ago is clicked on practically every day, sometimes more than once. The post was an analogy between my writing time and the sock that seems to go missing after every load of laundry, but it appears the sock is the star of the post.

Any ideas on why this is? I find it odd that so many people are interested in a photo of a sock. Or perhaps, writing this post is my method of procrastinating.

Back to work.



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