Welcome to charlottesnead.com

 Sacred Passion is God's Idea,

Romance is vital in marriage. I married in 1962. I began to mentor Mothers of Preschoolers in 1994. Every year since, my team insists I do my "sex talk," but it’s so much more. Being in right relationship with God, attending a vibrant and growing community of believers, choosing to forgive, to respect, and understanding submission is not surrender of self--all goes into the package that makes up a healthy marriage. I want to share it with you.

I write Romance to promote the marital relationship. God wrote the Song of Solomon, and he tells us the marriage bed is undefiled. Together we celebrate his sacred gift! For a good read, check out my books, my short stories, my devotions and my blog posts. 

The blogs, devotions, and mentor’s moments from those years are free. Use them, share them, but they are copyrighted. Please cite charlottesnead.com and invite others to the site. 


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A lesson in appreciation
Wednesday, April 17, 2019
Charlotte Snead

I thought I appreciated my husband. I thank God for him during our daily prayers in the morning and when I lie down at night, but I really learned to appreciate him when he was in the hospital for three days. He woke up in extreme pain at 2 am last Wednesday, and I took him to the ER at 7. It took 3 hours to get his pain under control, and his blood pressure was out the roof. They did a scan and diagnosed diverticulitis. He was admitted at 3. Long day and longer times by his bedside. Lonely times at night. I was not a happy camper, looking across at his empty chair.

In the hospital, we spent some time with a nutritionist learning modifications he must make to his diet (He ate his beloved peanuts the night he got sick—that’s a big no-no now.) We have several recent widows in our church, and we pray for them each morning. I can live without nuts, but I don’t want to live without him.

Joe came home Saturday. Dave, our son, and his wife, Shannon, and grandson Alan spent much of the day with us. Because no one could do anything last week except sit beside him while his IV drip with pain meds and antibiotics was administered, no one in the family came to see him. As a much loved doctor in the hospital, a parade of folks in house dropped by, from the administrator and her assistant to the gift shop lady. He knew everyone by name and said good things about each one. (No wonder he is loved!)

He is well though he tires, but he taught Sunday school and went to work on Monday. And I had a good dose of appreciation.

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Savor the Moments
Wednesday, April 10, 2019
Charlotte Snead

In the West Virginias mountains, when the colors are flung across the valleys, a magnificent painter has created a masterpiece. The glorious riot of colors makes me sing and laugh with joy. (Wonder what people driving alongside of me think!) I want my life to go out in a blaze of glory, too. In the autumn season of my life, I pray I will reflect the colors of my life as beautifully as nature does. Each season has its own unique pleasures, so I embrace each one.

How often as moms we said: "Oh, I can't wait until she is toilet trained," or: "Boy, it will be a relief when he can sit up by himself."  We wish their little seasons to go by quickly. And then the last one drives down the road with his U-Haul packed. Believe me, it wasn't long.

I wish I had the nature and ability to scrapbook. I love this new creative life record. I have boxes full of photos, but not much in order (and to put them in order will drive me insane!). Joe and I promise ourselves we will go through them when he retires.

I hold so many pictures in my heart: a shyly grinning girl hugging her baby brother close to her, a little black curly headed beauty rolling down the levy in New Orleans, a blond tyke trying to stand on his daddy's shoulders to see the choo-choo, a curly towhead with an earnest expression pedaling madly on his John Deere tractor, a proud trombonist leading the high school band. . . oh, so many pictures in my heart.

If your children are still home, look at them when they are unaware. Take a mental photo, remember them in your heart. Enjoy them in the springtime of their lives. Each age is tough, but transient, even fleeting. Play with them, dance with them, laugh with them, listen to them, tell them how wonderful they are, how unique and special. When mine were little, I would lie down with them, hold hands and run across the grass, come on, if you can't do that, you are too busy. Remember, mothering is a proud profession!

Nothing replaces a mother. (But grandma comes close!)



He was my Baby
Thursday, March 28, 2019
Charlotte Snead

I recently found this true ; it is a talk I had given when I was Mothers of Preschoolers mentor.

When our son Tom was in Special Forces, he was over six feet, and weighed about 230 pounds of solid muscle. He ran five miles a day. He’d been to Russia, Columbia, Peru, Argentina, Brazil, and places I will never know. He had lived in Spain, Korea, Panama, and was then in Ecuador. He was a Major in the Army, and a leader of men. His commanding officers and a U.S. Congressman had written us letters commending his service.

And one spring, he wrote us that his wife of five years had left him. I was being treated for Grave’s Disease, and I hadn’t been out of bed much for a week. I got on the internet and made reservations to fly to Ecuador. My wonderful husband, who supports me in everything, wondered how I could do this. I reasoned I’d be taking thyroid supplements by that time, and I should have some energy when the plane left. I emailed Tom that I was coming, and I went.

Tom and I had a wonderful week together in Ecuador. He treated me to a spa day at a thermal springs in the heart of that beautiful country; we traveled to his favorite places; I saw waterfalls coming from the tops of mountains, crashing down over two thousand feet; I saw volcanoes; I saw flowers and butterflies of brilliant hues, and animals I’d never seen. Most importantly I met his wonderful girlfriend. When Tom was born he had a blister on his thumb from where he had been sucking his thumb. If he could have gotten milk from that thumb, he never would have needed me! My self-sufficient one hadn’t told us his wife had left him over a year before. He recovered before he ever told us.

But he was my baby and I had to go. I had to hold him and tell him he is so loved and so wonderful. One of my favorite Dr. Seuss lines is from Horton Hears a Who: “A person is a person, no matter how small.” I am here to tell you that your baby is your baby, no matter how big. Being a parent never ends. Your heart is captivated forever and ever, and I’m a most blessed mom forever.

Catching up
Friday, March 15, 2019
Charlotte Snead

It is spring in Appalachia, and Allegra is now part of the daily regimen.

We drove to Charlottesville to see my sister in assisted living last week, Joe says we always have to travel to others, but it was good to see her, and at 83 years of age, she confessed Christ, so we are rejoicing. 

We have a houseguest this week, a guy from our Sunday School class who had a house fire. He will go home as soon as the power is back on.

Candace’s husband has an infection from his hip surgery, and she has to give him IV antibiotics through a port, but at least he’s home in White Sulphur Springs. Beth visited with us for several hours yesterday and our houseguest was much impressed with her work recuing children. (She is amazing.)

It’s been a busy time. Joe didn’t miss his Royal Rangers class at church last Wednesday night. He says he’s doing unto others what he wished had been done for his own children. One of the other “commanders” taught them finger-printing, and the kids will get a merit badge for that. Happily, they were able to play outside this week for a little while. (It’s hard to keep 6-12 year olds in a room for two hours.)

We see David’s boy, Joseph Alan, every Sunday. He and Shannon have us for lunch every Sunday after church. We’ll have to drive to Nashville (9 hours) to see Steve and Mary Katherine and their  three boys in the next week or so.



Having fun working
Tuesday, February 12, 2019
Charlotte Snead

We spent last weekend at our vacation home in Canaan Valley, WV, with our son, Dave, his precious wife, Shannon, and our grandson, Alan. A fun time was had by all, despite the bitter cold. I did work, going over my edits from the second publication Van Rye is doing for me about my favorite character, Nick Costas, who was abused in foster homes but who became a father after God’s own heart to her three children and their two. He does an excellent job of editing; I am learning a lot from him.

The first book “In Your Arms,” is about the officers in the Marines who gave him his profession—music production, his work with O’Malley Productions,—and the cultural conflicts he presented his wife, Barb. The second one, Nick’s Heart” is about his heart surgery, the home he builds for the lost children of South L. A., and their speaking events. I’ll let you know when they are in print. I’m sure Nick’s antics will delight you.

My third book in the Hope House Girls series, “Gracie Goodbye” should be up for edits this week. It’s a busy time. I haven’t taken a deep breath since our travels, but I am constantly singing the songs from our ten days on Phil Coulter’s 23rd Tranquility Cruise. (“Sing Irishman Sing.”) 

After reading B.J Hoff’s five book Emerald Ballad series—a fantastic read!—I was pleased to learn about the resurgence of the Irish language. I’ve never done my ancestry, but I hope I have Irish in my heritage. Have you done your ancestry? Tell me if it’s worth it.




Steal Away Again
Thursday, January 31, 2019
Charlotte Snead

You can go to archived posts and look at Steal Away.

We just Stole Away once more with Phil Coulter’s 23rd Tranquility Cruise. This was a ten day trip to the Panama Canal with stops along the way. Each night on the main stage we had a concert with Phil and/or some of his fabulous musicians. Phil Coulter himself plays and sings without looking at the piano. Then, every night up to the Crow’s nest on the top of the ship, where The New Barleycorn brought us another performance of banjo, guitar, and songs. Honestly, John’s fingers flew on the banjo—you can’t even see them move! Gala entertainment. One of the performing groups was the Celtic Tenors, three grand singers, who occasionally burst into song at the dinner table, one night stopping all service with a rendering of “Santa Luchia.” Another night they sang “How Great Thou Art.” You would love this annual trip—next year a week in Cuba.

On our way home, we stopped to see Joe’s brother’s widow in Fayetteville and a couple of his cousins in Durham. Next up, we have a trip the second weekend in February to the mountain house in Canaan Valley with Shannon, Dave, and Alan, and as soon as possible, a drive to Charlottesville to see my sister. Then, we want to get to Nashville to see Steve’s family. We seem to be constantly on the road!


Memories Past
Friday, January 11, 2019
Charlotte Snead

Poetry is not my forte, although I have done a lot of lyrics for my characters’ songs. Several years ago I wrote this:

Sometimes I hear voices from long ago

Calling me through time.

It was so this morning near dawn.

A voice called “Mama.”

My sons and daughters are long since flown,

Homes and lives their own.

The cry now theirs, the needy sound I heard.

I roll back to sleep.

Only remembering once was I.

Chubby arms ’round me

Reaching and holding me fast and near

They’re no longer here.

But in places and times I once knew

It was always true.

And the children that were then are gone

Mama is their sound.