Welcome

Cindy K. Sproles is an author and a speaker, whose dream is to do nothing more than craft words that speak from the heart. God's plan seems to be for her to write and teach the craft. With God’s guidance, Cindy is expanding her horizons. We'll see how He uses her.

Cindy is a mountain gal. Proud of her heritage, she was born and raised in the Appalachian Mountains where life is simple, words have a deep southern drawl, and colloquialisms like, "well slap my knee and call me corn pone" seem to take precedence over proper speech. Apple Butter, coal mining, the river, pink sunrises, and golden sunsets help you settle into a porch swing and relax. Family, the love of God, and strong morals are embedded into her life in the mountains. Teaching writers, spinning fiction tales about life in the mountains, history, and down-home ideas find their way into all she does. “I love to write devotions, to seek after the deeper side of Christ, and to share the lessons He teaches me from life in the hills of East Tennessee. I am a writer. A speaker. A lover of God's Word and friend to all.” This is Cindy Sproles. Welcome home to the mountains.

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Recent Posts

As Far as the East is From the West

3/28/2025 6:00:00 AM BY Cindy K. Sproles

Earlier, I wrote a blog post about the Three Things I Learned from a Mother-in-Law That Hated Me. It was an attention grabber just by the title and though it may sound like it was a horrible post, it was actually very kind. I even asked the Prince before I posted it because I never wanted to make my first mother-in-law look terrible. She wasn’t. But she had her ways, and it took years for a relationship to really develop.

We called mother-in-law one, West, because her son, in teasing, gave her that title. I also mentioned mother-in-law two and this is where I named her East and pulled from scripture a phrase, “As far as the east is from the west.” It was true. Two women couldn’t have been more different.

I felt it only fair to share the other side of Oz, so to speak and talk a little about the mother-in-law we call East.

I am convinced that God has given me the opportunity to know two TRUE angels on earth. One was my Aunt Reba. She was the person in our family who managed a family of four, worked full-time, farmed a huge garden, kept the books for her husband’s business, and cared for any and everyone in the family who had a need. I never thought I’d see another real angel until East.

East was this tiny, 4’5’ woman who could remember every person she ever met, where they lived, and who their family was. She, too, managed two boys, a hubby, and a full-time job with a local dentist. She was active in her church, and I mean physically active. East loved the Lord, and that was always her first propriety.

After the experience of West, I was a little leery about turning my back on anyone. But it didn’t take long for East to prove that not only did she consider me part of the family, but she called me daughter—not daughter-in-law. In fact, she called my other sis-in-law daughter as well. Why? Because East loved us both as her own.

In all the years I knew East, I never recall her saying one bad thing about anyone.

She did once say she didn’t trust this one person, but even in that remark, she noted that she was sure there were reasons none of us knew about to make this person the way they were. She was quick to give the benefit of the doubt and always willing to offer the underdog a second chance.

If I were to say anything about East, it would be that the love of Christ shined through her. She was happy, joyful, and kind. Her favorite thing was taking photos and making them into picture albums for folks.

If there was a group of six people, East would take a series of photos and then make six albums highlighting the occasion. When she passed, and my sis-in-law and I were sorting through the house, cleaning and donating, I opened a back closet. When I did, a stack of photo albums from floor to ceiling in the closet tumbled out on top of me. East was making albums for everyone. My sister-in-law giggled a bit during that cleaning-out phase. East never had a thing out of place in her home. She was truly the epitome of “everything has a place and everything in its place.” As we emptied out things, we found East may have been a tiny bit of a hoarder, hence why she could always come up with a gift when someone walked in the door. (She would have passed out as she realized we’d found her untidy stash of “stuff” in her very tidy house.)

East was, truly, as far as the East was from the West. I’m convinced when she went to bed at night, she hung her halo on the bedpost and gently put away her wings. She was a dear, kind, and tender woman, and you didn’t mess with her family. Under that very sweet exterior was a lion, and she could and would defend her family if necessary.

Kindness. What did I learn from East? The more accurate thing to say is, what DIDN’T I learn from East? But I suppose the first thing that jumped out at me was kindness. She taught me the importance of random acts of kindness and, when given in true love, could change the life of the recipient. She taught me to be kind even when it was hard.
Persistence – East taught me to stand up for what was right and to be persistent to not wavier. She wasn’t an activist. It wasn’t that kind of right. For East, right meant Godly. The what-would-Jesus-do kind of right. “Don’t ever be afraid to stand your ground in Christ,” she’d say as she tapped her nails on her lamp table. She knew I had a child with disabilities, and she’d seen and heard some of the terrible things that people would say and do to my son. East reminded me that even in the meanness of the world, a persistent love could move mountains.
Generosity – East proved daily that generosity was vital in a world of greed. Not a soul could walk through her door during the Christmas holidays and NOT walk out with some little gift. It wasn’t much, but it was wrapped in pretty paper topped with a bow. We always chuckled that little East would disappear for a few minutes and emerge with the perfect little gift for whomever. She set the example that generosity not only came in the form of pretty boxes and bows but that it came in the form of a listening ear—time. East always made time.
Dependence – Not on man but on the Father above. East never let a day pass that she didn’t show her dependence on the one who deserves it. I learned how valuable that lesson was when we had not one but two prodigal sons. We couldn’t have stood alone through that rough patch without leaning on—depending on God.

So, yeah. I had two mothers-in-law as far as the East was from the West. But each taught me so much. East changed addresses on January 10, 2009, and what a gaping hole she left in our hearts. She, along with her husband, raised two amazing, godly men, and the one I was blessed to marry 39 years ago became everything to me…my prince. East taught her boys well, and I hope that through the years, I’ve been able to follow in her footsteps with my boys and their wives. We’re a combined family, but I’ve never called my husband’s sons STEP sons. They ARE my boys. I wanted to love their wives as East loved me and to make them feel like they were not just the wives of my boys but my daughters as well.

I think East would be proud to see me from her view in heaven and to know how much I love her and her son, and her grandsons. I feel sure she’s pointing out any missed spots of tarnish on her halo to the master shiner in heaven.

Yes, as far as the East is from the West…my life is better because of them both.

Photo one – courtesy of Image by Mario Aranda from Pixabay ~ Photo two – courtesy of Image by congerdesign from Pixabay

Photo three– courtesy of Image by Dottie Lambertson from Pixabay

Three Things I Learned from a Mother-In-Law Who Hated Me

3/21/2025 12:30:00 PM BY Cindy K. Sproles

Got your attention, didn’t I? I could jest and say, “Who could hate me?” Seriously, I thought I was a nice person, but there isn’t a person alive who is literally loved by everyone. I’m no exception. However, I do feel you need to understand that I not only had one mother-in-law, but I had two. Let me explain. There’s more to the story.

Mother-in-law one, was lovingly referred to by her son (my first husband) as “West.” I know that means little to the average person, but her own son, in teasing, named her after the Wicked Witch of the West. We’ll just call her West.

Mother-in-law two, was the complete opposite. She could be called Glinda, the Good Witch of the East. I learned tons from Glinda, but we’ll save that for another post. Perhaps part two. For now, know that Glinda was the closest thing to my own mother. I loved her completely, talked for hours with her on the phone, and enjoyed the pleasure of her sweet-natured guidance up until her death. I still miss Glinda. She was an amazing woman.

But this post is about the things I learned from West. Now, I can’t say that I despised West. I didn’t. In fact, she could be a darling woman. She was funny and unafraid to “play.” She was a wicked shopper, meaning if you wanted something, West could find it at the ultimate lowest price, even if that meant cutting some sort of a deal with a store manager. West could be a joy – except when she wasn’t.

When I married my first husband, West let it be known that I was not a welcome member of the family. It wouldn’t have mattered if I was Princess Ann. West would not have deemed me worthy of her son. The only thing that made her tolerate me was the fact that I gave birth to the first two of her three grandchildren. Her despising me wasn’t personal, though it felt that way. It would have been that way for whom ever her son married.

It’s hard, even forty years after my divorce, to have to admit that she didn’t like me. It hurt and, honestly, still does. I wanted to be a part of her family, and despite my efforts, it was to no avail. Oddly enough, when West was stuffed away in a nursing home by her son, she called me weekly. We talked more in the last year of her life than we ever talked the forty years prior. Maybe part of that was her dementia. She’d simply forgotten the things she didn’t like about me, or maybe those years of trying to be kind to someone who refused my kindness paid off in the end. Either way, I grew to love West in a special way, and I think she grew to love me.

So, you ask, what could you learn from someone who hated you? Three things come to mind immediately, and I hope these are things that you can use in your life. I come to greatly appreciate them as good life lessons.

… ‘Love your neighbor as yourself.’ There is no commandment greater than these.”– Mark 12:31 NIV. West was a case that I do believe Jesus was alluding to when He shared the two great commands. You remember. Love the Lord God with all your heart, soul, and mind, and love your neighbor as yourself. There are folks in this world who don’t love themselves at all, and sometimes, they drop into our lives when we least expect it. West taught me that love really does overcome a multitude of sins because if I’d made a list of the hurtful things she’d welded at me over the years, especially pertaining to my being a good parent, I would have never felt I ever deserved love from anyone. I was naive to a great extent. I’d never been in a position to deal with the jealous love of a mother. And truthfully, that was the problem West had. She would have been jealous of anyone who married her son. No one was good enough, and everyone would pay a price.

But, after our divorce, West and her hubs visited frequently to see the grandchildren. I gladly shared my boys with her and encouraged their phone calls and visits. After all, divorce wasn’t the fault of my boys, and these were their grandparents. So, when West visited, I went out of my way to love her, make her feel welcome, and share good memories with my boys. Lesson one was a long time in the coming, but I learned that the more I loved her, the less she had to complain about. Just before she passed. I called her to check-in.

“How are you doing?” I asked.

“Who is this?” She struggled to remember my name.

“It’s Cindy. Remember, I’m Chase and Cameron’s mom. You remember Chase and Cameron?”

“Oh, yes. I remember that you loved me even when I hated you. Thank you.”

Her words brought me to a halt. Love your neighbor even when it’s hard. It makes a difference. Love will sneak in, seep into the cracks of a hardened heart, and soften.

Forgiveness brings peace – It’s so easy to remain bitter through hardship. We can easily blame the raunchy things on others. We’re quick to drudge up the bad things and rehash them over and over. Even hold them over our offender’s head. But, forgiveness. Wow. Forgiveness gives us freedom. I’ve often said that forgiveness is not for the offender (though they get something from it if they accept it), but forgiveness is for the offended. Peter knew what He was saying when He told us to cast our cares (anxiety) on Him. In other words, forget it. Let it go. God’s far better equipped to handle the muck than we are. When we say the words, I forgive you, the gates of heaven open, and redemption, purification, hope, happiness, and love rain down on our souls. We’re filled with peace and freedom. West taught me that forgiveness is valuable. I could hold on to the hurt and anger, or I could cast it to Jesus. I chose to cast it, and when I did, I found a joy in West that I could not see before. I saw her humor, her fun, and her needs, and I was even compelled to be a part of her last year of life. I’m glad West taught me about forgiveness.

Seek the good in every situation – West taught me to seek the good in every situation. Throughout the years that she and her hubs visited, and when my boys visited her, she began to thank me for allowing her and granddad to enjoy the kids. She told me it meant so much to know that I sought out her good qualities, even when she knew I had no reason to. And before she died, she said something that still means the world. “I’ve always been a believer. But I never felt like I saw God, until I saw Him in you.”

That was a wow moment. It was a moment that shamed me for the times I’d gotten angry over the rejection or the snide remarks. She finally told me she never blamed me for the collapse of my marriage to her son. “I knew he was an alcoholic. I knew he was unfaithful. I knew he never loved you, and I’m sorry I justified that.”

West passed away in April, 2016.

I cried at her loss. Only, instead of tears of hurt, they were true tears of loss. We’d not enjoyed a long and fruitful relationship, but that last year was private between her and me. It meant something to me. My boys had that love-hate relationship with West, too. They have great photos of her literally playing with them, camping, riding bikes, and laughing. I hope for them, the good outweighs the bad as well.

West was a unique woman. She was brave and motivating. She was determined and self-sufficient, and she loved her family in her own way. I learned a lot from a woman who hated me in the beginning and though things were rocky a lot of the time, I was gifted to call her friend.

God leads us to learn lessons in the most unusual places. Who’d have thought it would be in the wake of someone who hated me? Besides, the last time I spoke to West was about a month prior to her death. Her last words to me were a surprise.

“You know, I always loved you.” What could be better than that?

Photo one – Image by Cara Shelton from Pixabay

Photo two – Image by Andre_Grunden from Pixabay

Just an Update

3/18/2025 1:40:00 PM BY Cindy K. Sproles

The Novels are Winning Awards

I know, I know. Coal Black Lies just came out last June, and the Selah award sticker says 2025. That's because the new year of awards has begun. I was thrilled to final again this year. We'll find out in May if she wins. For now, it's a finalist in waiting. :)

All I can say is that I am blessed. Every novel has won big awards from Novel of the Year multiple times to Chrisitan Market Book awards, the Illuminations Awards, to the prestigious Selah. I don’t say this to brag but to say I am in awe. I just never imagined this was possible. All I asked, some twenty + years ago, was if God would allow me to be a writer. I promised the glory would be His and He has blessed me. I am grateful.

BECAUSE YOU ARE ASKING: I just turned in book SEVEN to Kregel Publications in January, and I am currently writing book eight. With each strike of the keys, I still cannot believe that it is my name on the books. This is a childhood dream come true -- one that my friends said would never happen.

I had a friend in elementary school and high school who wrote beautiful poetry. Poetry was something I always wanted to write, but it didn't take long for me to realize that my gift was not in rhyme or cadence. It was simply in storytelling. Funny how we fight what we know in order to do what we want. The desire of my heart was, truthfully, to tell stories, not write poems. When I finally surrendered that desire to what I knew my gift was, God took hold and said, "Let's soar." And we have.

His wings have carried me to places I never imagined. He's allowed me to teach all over the country - definitely not something this introvert ever thought possible. It's amazing what a little faith and a lot of surrender can do when you place it in the Father's hands.

Here I am, 25 years later, writing and teaching writing, walking the path God had set in stone. Sure, there have been rejections along the way, but God has used those to teach me more. When "Yes" comes, it's all the sweeter.

That said, book seven has been turned in to the publisher. I have it currently titled "The Eyes of River," however, it's very common for the publisher to change the title if they see a better marketing tool, so for now, we call her The Eyes of River.

This is the story of Lizzy and her little brother, River, and their journey to learn trust. If you read my books then you know they are harder stories, but the life lessons are very poignant. There's always a point of historical truth in each story, though I may bend my story around the truth -- the history is accurate. And this story's truth falls back to the early 1950s when a woman who managed an orphanage decided to steal and sell babies. Oh, yes, this happened even in the 1950's. Though my story is set in the early 1900's, the history of Georgia Tann and her dealings is loosely danced around. Georgia Tann was real, and her stealing and selling babies is true.

I do not have the release date for "The Eyes of River" yet, but when it comes, I'll let you know. In the meantime, I'm searching for a street team. Are you willing to read and share The Eyes of River with your Social Media and book clubs? I'd love to add you to my team. Without folks like you, my books would not reach as far as they do. Thank you for your help. These days, publishers insist authors do a lot of the grunt work to market. It's hard. So, your help is appreciated.

If you're interested, send me an email at cindyksproles@gmail.com and mark it Street Team. As we approach publication, you'll receive a book, and prior, you'll get the pdf of the book before publication so you can read and start to share posts and blogs. Thank you in advance.

The Gift of a Lifetime

What do you do when a sweet friend walks in your door and says, "Hey, I got something for you. It's not much, but I think you'll like it."

You answer with, "Awesome."

And then she comes into your house carrying a big black box. She sets it on the couch and opens it carefully. BOOM! You nearly fall over. A perfect condition, 1954 Remington typewriter that still has a ribbon that still types. OH, MY WORD.

It was truly the gift of a lifetime. I'd been searching rummage and estate sales, Facebook trading -- you know, all the normal places, and if I found one, it was either in ratty condition or they wanted way more than my pocketbook could cough up. But this...it is a jewel. It even has a gold place on the box with the original owner's name engraved on it. This girl was taken aback.

There's always that one thing in our lives that we "wish" we had. I can remember my mother had an old Royal typewriter and she tossed it after Dad passed. I didn't know then what it would have meant to have that now. Though this isn't Mom's old typewriter, it does bring back the days I sat at her typing table and one-finger-typed the names of my Golden Books so I could put them in my library. Even as a little girl, I aspired to be in some sort of BOOK WORLD. :)

Either way, what a joy to have this beauty sitting in my living room. Not only that, but to know the love that came along with it. It is truly, the gift of a lifetime.

Until next time...

Much love,
Cindy

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