Blog Layout

Are There Such Things as Ghosts? -- Spotlight with Giveaway

Linda Wood Rondeau • Oct 30, 2022

Today I'm excited to welcome guest blogger and author Linda Wood Rondeau, as she shares her latest release, about ghosts and hauntings, and asks some tough questions as these topics relate to our Christian faith. Read through--she's also offering a neat gift for one lucky winner.


“How is this book Christian if it has ghosts in it?” asked one inquirer. To this, I answered: “The ghosts are symbolic. My hero and heroine do not have a personal relationship with the Lord at the beginning of the book. They don’t know what to call the disturbances in the home, which we later learn are indeed Satanic in nature. The devil will use everything in his power, including a belief in ghosts, to keep the believer or the unbeliever from experiencing his fullness. This is a story about redemption and healing, not a traditional ghost story.”

 

This was a common question I received since, many Christians equate the existence of ghosts as contrary to scripture. The ghosts in Ghosts of Trumball Mansion are satanic and symbolic. However in doing some research, I discovered the Christian view regarding the existence of ghosts was indeed varied. Some believe that all authentic paranormal activity must be satanic. This view is the most widely accepted among evangelicals.

 

Others believe that what we call ghosts are spirits who have been left on earth to await judgement, and quote Scripture to support this view. They do keep in mind that “to be absent from the body is to be present with the Lord.” So these “left behind” spirits are nonbelievers. They believe hell is a designation after judgment.

 

Some believe that what is called paranormal activity has a scientific or natural explanation.

 

What is universally accepted by Christians is that Necromancing (deliberate attempts to communicate with the dead) is a sin. (Lev 19:31; 20:6; 1 Sam 28:8, 9; Isa 8:19; 19:3; 29:4). Best to leave the matter of life and death into the hands of our Creator God.

 

Do you believe ghosts are for real or is there some other explanation for unusual occurrences?

 

Giveaway:

Giveaway: Signup for newsletter and/or answer the question and (1)winner will receive a $5.00 Amazon gift certificate.  

Please remember to cleverly disguise your email address so the bots don’t find you. For example: donna AT livebytheword DOT com

Comments without an email address won’t be entered into the giveaway

 

 

 

About Author Linda Wood Rondeau

Award-winning author, Linda Wood Rondeau writes stories that grip the heart, inspired by her nearly thirty years of social work. When not writing or speaking, she enjoys the occasional round of golf, visiting museums, and taking walks with her best friend in life, her husband of forty-five years. The couple resides in Hagerstown, Maryland where both are active in their local church. Readers may learn more about the author, read her blog, or sign up for her newsletter by visiting www.lindarondeau.com.

 

 

Getting to Know Linda

 

What is the problem with writing that was your greatest roadblock, and how did you overcome it?

 

I struggle sometimes with feeling I’m not worthy of God’s blessing on my work. I tend to use results as a measure of God’s favor. This is wrong thinking. He has shown me that success is not equivalent to popularity, readership, or sales. Success is obedience. That is all he requires. Some pastors are called to minister to thousands and others to small groups. In their obedience, many are still blessed.

 

If you couldn’t write for some reason, what would you do?

 

Marketing costs money. Many writers barely break even or may might themselves “paying” for the privilege. Fortunately, God has provided with resources to help with these expenses. They do, however, but a crimp in my budget causing me to forego other hobbies or pursuits. If I did not write, I’d put those monies toward traveling.

 

Tell us how much of yourself you write into your characters

 

Probably one of must “autobiographical” books was, It Really IS a Wonderful Life, the story of a widow who becomes involved in a community theater group in production for the play, It’s A Wonderful Life. The smalltown she moves to was patterned much in my former home in Northern New York. I had joined the theater group after moving there and met my second husband through the group. The characters were a compilation of some of the folks I met through that experience. As a retired social worker, I have many years of human services experience in which to draw circumstances and characters.  

 

 

 

Connecting Online:

 

Facebook author page: https://www.facebook.com/lindawoodrondeau

 

Instagram https://www.instagram.com/authorlindawoodrondeau/

  

Twitter: https://twitter.com/lwrondeau

 

Pinterest https://www.pinterest.com/lindarondeau/

 

Youtube https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCqYXhST2ffOPy6I31Wwj8zQ

 

Bookbub https://www.bookbubhttps://www.bookbub.com/profile/linda-wood-rondeau

 

Website www.lindarondeau.com

 

Blog: Snark and Sensibility https://lindarondeau.com/snarksensibility

 

 

A Sneak Peek inside the story:

PROLOGUE

Fifteen years earlier

Sylvia Moore Fitzgibbons steadied herself against the balustrade surrounding the upstairs promenade. Henry stood at the door, much like Scarlet O’Hara’s Rhett. In her mind, Sylvia could hear Scarlet say the words, “Oh, Rhett, whatever will I do without you?”

 

She expected the same final condemnation to pass from Henry’s lips. “Frankly, my dear, I don’t give a …”

 

Sylvia screamed her petition. “Henry, don’t go.”


He paused—his gaze sorrowful as he opened the double paneled door. “I’m sorry, Sylvia. I told you last night. I can’t live here.”


She pushed away from the rail, her knees wobbling, wanting the floor to swallow her whole. Should she pray?

 

She hadn’t needed or thought about God since childhood.

 

Instead, she summoned the author within, the strength she’d always leaned on. If she were to survive, Lana Longstreet must take over. “Then go.”

 

He glanced toward the marble-floored ballroom. “I tried, Sylvia. For a brief while, I thought I might eventually learn to manage the commute.” He pointed toward the infamous ballroom. “But whatever’s in there hates me.”

 

Of all the excuses she’d ever written, Henry’s fiction surpassed Lana Longstreet’s most creative pages. “Will I still see you Wednesday?”

 

“As agreed—a weekly business meeting at Chez Phillipe.”

 

With that, Henry was gone, leaving Sylvia to mourn the life she’d lost. Only Lana could help her make a new one.

 

What now? She surveyed the staircase and the portraits of the ancestors. Lana Longstreet would not let sentiment stand in the way of enjoying this mansion, a piece of New Haven history, shaking her head at Henry’s idiocy.

 

Sylvia surveyed the lower rooms, the lure to the old Trumball Mansion, was now hers. Every room, even the servants’ quarters on the left wing beyond the ballroom, remained as the edifice was when Trumball built the place. Of course, she’d modernize the kitchen for Rosalie. She couldn’t expect her cook to manage with a wood stove.

 

Anger heated her cheeks as she surveyed the perfect symmetry and Georgian architecture. How could Henry have resisted the breathy charm filling each room, the engraved woodwork, and plaster of paris etched ceilings?

 

Last night’s sharp criticism still stung. “Of all your impetuous schemes, this is the craziest thing you have ever done,” Henry had said. Lana Longstreet thought her decision to buy Trumball Mansion the smartest move she’d ever made.

 

She walked through the living room to the kitchen, then looked out the window at the rose gardens—the only feature Henry found alluring, though he couldn’t name a single species. She’d laughed while Henry referenced each bed by its color and location rather than use their common name. Apparently, not even the roses were enough to keep him here. He’d rejected her gift and thrown their marriage to the wind. He made his choice—now Lana Longstreet would make hers. The once bustling Trumball Mansion would live again through twenty-first century galas, and Lana Longstreet would emerge as New Haven’s sauciest socialite.

 

A last tear trickled down Sylvia’s chin. She pulled out a hankie from the sleeve of her knitted long-sleeved tee and wiped her eyes. No more regret, no more conniving. She’d salvage what she could from her broken marriage and find contentment within Lana Longstreet’s independence. Though Henry refused to call the mansion his home, he would not divorce her. Her books brought in the bulk of the profits for Fitzgibbons & Associate Publishing. If love didn’t motivate Henry’s faithfulness, the fear of poverty would.

 

And, they would have Wednesdays at Chez Phillipe’s. A small part of him better than none.

 

She gazed at the beveled archways gracing the entrance to both the ballroom and sitting room. She’d fashion a life for herself and the children here. Let Henry keep his predictable Manhattan existence. Lana Longstreet’s genius needed surroundings that juiced the creative spirit, one richly fed in this historic home.

 

She scanned the open ballroom, the cornerstone of Trumball’s influence on a nation in the making—the place where Henry claimed ghosts danced.

 

Ridiculous.

 

She joined Julie in the ballroom. A residual pungency coated Sylvia’s throat. “Let’s get out of here. Smells like rotten eggs. Tomorrow, I’ll hire a cleaning service to purge these odors.”

 

Julie stood with cocked head, her gaze fixed on the angel-engraved marble fireplace. “They’re gone, Mother. They jumped back into the walls when Daddy left.”

 

About The Ghosts of Trumball Mansion

Why do the ghosts in his wife’s ballroom attack only him? Or is publishing tycoon Henry Fitzgibbons insane?

 

Lana Longstreet is his star author … and his informally estranged wife. Now that the children are grown, maybe the time has come to officially end any obligation to his wife’s Connecticut estate and be free of their torment.

 

Sylvia Fitzgibbons has grown tired of the charade. She’d ask Henry for a divorce if the children weren’t planning a lavish anniversary party in August, and she has a deadline for her Johnny Gallant suspense series in the same month. Then there is the matter of the decaying rose gardens, Henry’s only allure to the estate and launch parties.

 

She insists Henry spend the summer to tend to estate matters, and Henry reluctantly agrees. Hoping for an early escape, he hires a gangly landscape artist who eerily resembles a washed out country singer. But when Sylvia’s housekeeper must retire due to an auto accident, she begs for his help. Unable to resist her femme fatale pleas, Henry is trapped for the duration.

 

Forced closeness and Sylvia’s dependence on Henry draws them closer. As a reconciliation proves possible, Lana Longstreet is charged with plagiarism threatening their publishing empire and the malignant forces within the estate become increasingly aggressive.

 

Something evil seems to conspire against them that only Faith can conquer.


Share by: