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“Don the full armor of God” is easy to say but remember God’s armor comes in one size. It isn’t such that one size fits all, but those who try to don it must adjust themselves to the fit. Brave Knights must train, for the armor of God is heavy. To the undisciplined it will feel awkward and will expose one to ridicule by non-believers. Training and fitness becomes a lifelong pursuit. The helmet does not fit a fat or empty head. The breast plate doesn’t work on a boastful chest. The sandals will slip off the feet of those who plant them in sand. The sword will turn dull and tarnished in the hand of the profane. The belt of truth is a thin one, not designed to hold in a gluttonous stomach. No matter your condition, the shield of faith will extinguish the flaming arrows of the evil one, so have faith. -  William A. Wright ‘Pappy’

We’re excited to announce two recent publications. After months of work, they came to fruition in the same week. Publishing worked like clockwork for one of them, while the other suffered from relentless spiritual warfare attacks.

Knightly Ramblings: knights in creation offers several short stories, including adventures through Europe, and anecdotes from lives well-lived. Enjoy! This would make a terrific gift book for anyone over age 12. Many thanks to our cover creator, Jennifer Fleming.

Daily Devotions for Brave Knights: with truth like a belt around your waist is the second book in the Daily Devotionals for Brave Knights series. Early feedback is telling us it resonates not just with young men, but with anyone who needs a bite-sized daily devotion reading. It includes prompts for journaling, and discussing with others. The format is such that the reader finds it easy to carry the message with them throughout the day. We recommend it as a gift book for high schoolers and graduates, military recruits and service members, college students and graduates, veterans, and nursing home residents.

Here is our author landing page on Amazon. Any of our books are accessible from there, in multiple formats.

https://www.amazon.com/author/braveknightwriters

We’re excited for our upcoming interview with books4guys.com. Chris Clinard is working diligently to highlight authors whose works may appeal to men of all ages. Highly recommend visiting the YouTube channel https://www.youtube.com/@books4guys and the website- https://www.books4guys.com/ .

Below are a couple of excerpts from these latest works. Please share this email with readers you know.

from Knightly Ramblings:

Breakfast with Grandchildren
by Brave Knight Writers

Teach your children well/ Their father's hell did slowly go by/ Feed them on your dreams/The one they pick’s the one you’ll know by/ Don’t you ever ask them why/If they told you, you would cry/So just look at them and sigh/And know they love you- by Crosby, Stills, Nash and Young

[A restaurant with tables and chairs AI-generated content may be incorrect.]

“Children are educated by what the grown-up is and not by his talk.” – Carl Jung Blissquotes.com

We are on the precipice of a battle between the creativity of humans and artificial intelligence (AI). Microsoft word just offered us a new function, AI assist. When I sat down to write this blog my heart filled with joy to share my experiences of the last twelve years of getting grandchildren off to school and taking them to our local diner where the waitress and cook fussed over them. This is a small-town experience far from the big chain restaurants, a diner famous for gigantic sugary cinnamon rolls and cheap specials. The fare may not be the healthiest option, but comradery with the kids balances it all out. Now, what does all this have to do with AI?

As I started to write our blog, I simply typed in the title “Breakfast with the Grandchildren” and in a matter of seconds AI produced a blog article. It also shut down my creativity. Over the past twenty years I have been creating novels and stories, involving a lot of research and effort. In an instant my computer produced a blog. Kind of scary. I had to ask myself, why bother, why tax my brain?

In this blog we will share the two sides of the experience. The human element is missing in the AI version, although on the surface it is well written and thorough. AI knows nothing of what it is to indulge in human interactions. Yet.

Please enjoy our post, and just so you know, our novel St. Croix: the gift, delves deeply into the subject of AI. Aspects of AI are changing faster than I can write.

Dining out with Grandchildren (the human perspective)

Like most grandparents, we find ourselves in charge of youngsters on a regular basis.

Famous last words, “Let’s head to our favorite local diner, it’ll be easier than cooking at home and cleaning up”.

They all insist they do not need to use the bathroom prior to leaving home.

So, we dress them in coats and hats and load up into various boosters and car seats (which involves removing the coats again) and set off down the road for a happy and fun outing, sure to create memories that will last well into their adulthood.

As we enter the eating establishment with the precious grandchildren in tow, we note the hostess taking a big gulp.

It begins with a choice of table. We see the hostess sizing up the kids and sending us to the table where she’s having a tiff with the server that day. Hah! Take that is written all over her.

The children do their best to look angelic. After all, they need fed. It’s a survival skill, looking cute so adults will feed them.

The cuteness is short-lived. These kids need attention. Right now. Before everyone decides what to order. So, ordering the meal is delayed while we unwrap the gratuitous crayons, discuss the reason why we can’t play tic tac toe just yet, why we can’t discuss the people at the next table, the server’s tattoos, or why we don’t use tablecloths at home.

Unsuspecting grandparents will order chocolate milk, momentarily forgetting the consequences of that choice, in their need to be liked by the kids.

As we peruse the culinary choices, a niggling little voice tells us to order a healthier choice. But then another little voice makes us realize we had better order the choice the precious littles can’t bear to live without. More precisely, we’ll have no chance to eat in relative peace unless their deep and immediate need for chocolate is met.

So we order the fakey mac and cheese, the questionable burger with white bun, sides of fries, and the promise of a sundae/milkshake/cookie if they behave.

Behave is a subjective term, and we still want to be the favorite grandparents. So…

 We forget to ask for lids on the chocolate milk, and the server seemingly hasn’t dealt with kids lately, so he forgets, as well. Apparently, he and the hostess had been getting along until recently.

We finally order, although we haven’t had a chance to thoroughly investigate the options for ourselves. First likely item we spot? Coffee. Veggie lasagna with salad. Solid choices, right? What could go wrong?

Orders delivered; we turn to the children. We happen to be outnumbered on this trip, three to two. It seemed like a doable adventure when we hatched the idea.

As always happens in cases like this, they immediately triangulate. One needs to go to the restroom. The other two insist they do not.

So the adults are divided already, and halfway to being conquered. One leaves for the trek to the restroom, with all of its pitfalls.

The adult remaining at basecamp is left in a quandary. Try to help the remaining two navigate the complexities of tic-tac-toe or focus on just one child while immersing the other in a solitary pursuit. Choosing to attempt tic-tac-toe with the younger, while suggesting an art project on the back of the paper placemat to the other makes one feel like a master strategist.

Managing only a sip or two, the coffee goes increasingly cold while answering the constantly evolving questions of why.

The restroom duo returns to find the coffee completely cold, and that the artist child used their sibling’s placemat, not their own, eliciting a howl from the offended child.

Outright war averted by donating your own placemat, you simultaneously move all the pleasantry articles out of reach from the table, after witnessing the salt and pepper shaken into the flower arrangement. This involves placing said items on the table next to you.

About this time the meal arrives. It looks lovely, a feast of various delights for each diner’s current preference.

As I pull a child back from the depths under the table, the server departs for ranch dressing, ketchup, and replacement coffee for the coffee that’s gone completely cold. We do our best to engage the children in giving thanks for the bounty.

They decide they can be silent, after all. Who knew?

Our thanks given, we dig in. Or rather they do, after we have helped cut, dress, place, and chop their choices.

As they begin to eat, they begin to squirm. And kick their feet against their chair. Or their neighbor’s chair. Something about their eyes seeing food in front of them seems to engage the rest of their body into overdrive.

As we turn to our well-deserved repast, the middle child decides her milk will look better all down the front of her dress. Well, that’s one way to get attention.

We use all cloth napkins within reach to stop the flow from reaching her seat or the floor. We’re mostly successful.

We manage a bite or two of lasagna, which seems like it might be delicious. Not sure. I’m focused on the child who is rubbing their fork over all surfaces within reach—under the table, on the seat, and along their coat hanging on the back of their chair.

As I swallow this first bite and redirect that child, I notice another child spitting a mouthful back onto their plate. Well, at least close to the plate.

This is about the time the squirming morphs into actual jumping from a seated position, launching themselves into the air repeatedly with only their pent-up energy as propulsion.

Shortly after is when the adult stomachs also begin jumping in tune with the youngsters’ jumping.

The youngest decides to start a garden growing under the table by shaking your elbow at the precise time you’re lifting your first bite of salad to your mouth. So far, he has missed his own mouth 7 of 10 attempts, adding to the sub-table garden scene.

As the server returns with replacement milk and lids all around, the oldest decides now he does need to go to the restroom. As in right now.

We stare at each other in utter dismay. Which one of us will completely forego any attempt to enjoy the meal by accompanying this child to the distant restroom?

The one who has managed to get three complete bites in volunteers. As he stands to leave the table, the youngest demands to go along for the ride. That’s not happening.

The adult remaining at the table, who thought they may have a reprieve, will deal with that child’s unreasonable request. This discussion proves lengthier than thought possible.

As we finish our meal and exit the restaurant with our stack of to-go boxes and cookies, we leave a generous tip on the table. The server has earned it, not least for the grin (or is he baring his teeth?) and good wishes he employs as he tracks our departure.

We reload into the car, remove coats again, and realize we’re missing at least one hat, we debate returning to the restaurant in search of it.

It is impossible to contemplate returning to the scene of the crime, so we decide the parents can afford a replacement hat.

As we travel home, we sing songs and talk loudly to try to keep them awake. We can’t afford to allow a car nap and therefore miss legitimate nap time at home!

We at least accomplish that and carry them into the house, remove coats, and tuck them straight in for naps.

We sneak back out for the to-go boxes and reheat them. Ahh! So glad we created happy memories for those angels now napping peacefully.

Now let’s read the version produced by AI.

Dining out with Grandchildren (the AI perspective)

(continued in Knightly Ramblings: knights in creation)

***

From Daily Devotions for Brave Knights:

A BRAVE KNIGHT’S STORY

Did you ever eat mud cookies? Maybe if you were hungry enough, you would.

While celebrating a birthday at a nice restaurant, we began chatting with our server, who had the most joyful smile we had ever seen. He was a vibrant young man with long braids and a flair for service that matched his beautiful smile.

We noticed his accent in speaking English and he stated he was from the Islands—the Caribbean. Since it was a blustery cold day, we laughed, and asked, why on earth would you stay here where it’s so cold?” He responded, “there’s food here.”

He had been adopted into the U.S. from Haiti at age 3. Prior to that he had existed on whatever he could find. Sometimes he made and ate mud cookies mixed with grass.

A short time later we heard that he had died. He had a heart attack due to his poor nutrition in his younger years. Thankfully, some quick-thinking bystanders used an AED on him and shocked him back into life.

HE IS A BRAVE KNIGHT, BRINGING THE JOY!

AS ALWAYS, REVIEWS ARE VITAL TO AUTHORS!