Christine Lindsay writes historical novels with strong love stories. She’s proud of her Irish roots. Her great grandfather and grandfather worked as riveters in the Belfast shipyard, and one of the ships they helped build was the Titanic. Another ancestor served in the British Cavalry in India, seeding Christine’s long-time fascination with the British Raj and became the stimulus for her series Twilight of the British Raj, and her debut novel, SHADOWED IN SILK. Her current release CAPTURED BY MOONLIGHT is Book 2 of that series.
The Pacific coast of Canada, about 200 miles north of Seattle, is Christine’s home. She and her husband enjoy the empty nest, but look forward to all the noise when the kids and grandkids come home. And like a lot of writers, her cat is her chief editor.Prisoners to their own
broken dreams…
ABOUT HER BOOK:
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After a daring rescue
goes awry, Laine Harkness and her friend Eshana flee to the tropical south of
India…and headlong into their respective pasts.
Laine takes a nursing
position at a plantation in the jungle, only to discover that her former fiancé
is the owner…but fun-loving Laine refuses to let Adam crush her heart like he
had years ago.
Eshana, captured by
her traditional uncle and forced once more into the harsh Hindu customs of
mourning, doubts freedom will ever be hers again, much less the forbidden love
for Dr. Jai Kaur that had begun to flower.
Amid cyclones,
epidemics, and clashing faiths, will the love of the True Master give hope to
these searching hearts?
And now . . . the story behind the story
Sitting in the hospital bed, I held my
firstborn, Sarah, my tears splashing onto her tiny face.
My counselor softly said, “Christine, she’s
your baby. You can keep her if you want to.”
But I wanted a daddy for my baby. And I felt
this promise from God—if I stuck to the adoption plan, He would reunite Sarah
and me one day, in a unique birth-mother and birth-daughter relationship.
Three days later, the gray, steel, elevator
doors on the hospital ward closed between Sarah and me.
The years passed, and I met my wonderful
husband. Three times over my empty arms were filled with our children. I
couldn’t have been happier. But I couldn’t forget Sarah. As time inched closer
to Sarah’s 18th birthday I prayed harder for our reunion.
I could see it all—a big family dinner, Sarah’s
family and ours, all sitting around the table.
People ask me why I searched for Sarah instead
of waiting for her to search for me. I felt at the time that God doesn’t wait
for us to come to Him, but He goes looking for us.
Two years later, the day I’d been praying for 20
years arrived. I was so afraid Sarah wouldn’t be able to love me. So afraid of
rejection.
My husband and I got to the counselor’s office
before Sarah and her fiancé arrived, and were given the bad news—Sarah’s mom
and dad didn’t want to meet me. They were at home sobbing . . . broken-hearted.
I was stunned—they don’t want to meet me.
With these thoughts spiraling through my mind I
opened the door to where Sarah waited. A beautiful, young blond woman stood up
to meet me. For years I’d imagined us falling into each other’s arms, crying
like people did on TV. But all I felt was intense sadness that this beautiful daughter
and I were strangers.
God had given Sarah exactly what I’d prayed for.
She was confident, happy, studying to be a nurse, planning her wedding. Why was
I not overflowing with joy?
Because I wanted to be a part of her life, and her
in mine. But Sarah’s life was full, busy, there wasn’t much time for us to get
to know each other.
I had never felt so rejected. Though I hated my
self-pity, I couldn’t stop thinking how God had disappointed me.
He’d had 20 years to put this reunion together,
and this was the best He could do?
Months later my husband found me crying on
couch, and he put a brand new journal and pen into my hands, and said, “Write
it”.
Healing gradually came. As I studied the Bible,
this verse became my life motto.
Can a mother forget the baby at her breast and have no
compassion on the child she has borne? Though she may forget, I will not forget
you! See, I have engraved you on the palms of my hands...
My love for my kids, including Sarah, pales in
comparison to God’s love for us. It wasn’t Sarah that I needed to make me whole
on the inside, nor any of my children, or my husband.
I needed God to fill that gaping hole in my heart.
I began to realize I also had no right to feel
rejected by Sarah’s parents.
Twelve years have passed, and a relationship
between Sarah and me flowered. Today we’re more like a favorite aunt and favorite
niece. But God wasn’t finished yet.
In 2011, my debut novel was released. Shadowed in Silk is set in India. One day my
publisher sent me photographs of models for the front cover. On a whim, I sent
Sarah’s picture to my publisher. They thought she was perfect.
I can’t explain how wonderful it was to see birthdaughter’s
face on my novel when it was the pain of losing her that inspired me to write.
The book came out, and Sarah and her husband
came to tell us they had decided to be missionaries. One of the missions they
would be working with most would be the Ramabai Mukti Mission in India.
I nearly fell off my chair.
I’d never told Sarah, but the true-life Ramabai
was the Indian Christian woman who was the inspiration behind one of my main
characters in Shadowed in Silk.
Only a tender-hearted Heavenly Father could do
this. He had given me that unique
relationship with my birthdaughter that I’d asked for all those years ago.
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