Christian Author


Obsession with the female body….be who you are…accept your cellulite!

From January 1st, the hype is on to change who you are. Diet programs fill the airways.   Every ad shows a woman who is trim…or even in the modeling world… sometimes anorexic.     It is an understatement to say that women’s bodies are totally different from that of men’s.  They are curvy…and every curve has a reason.  Yes, a reason!plus size women

Since the beginning of time and the family, the breast is for nursing a baby.  The breast has become a visual sex object in more than just intimacy between loving couples or a mother and a child.   Go no further than the  Hollywood  red carpet.   Almost every dress  exposes  the cleavage down to the naval.  Which brings us to the hips and back-side which they are also showing quite regularly.   The width of  the hips is actually  to be able to give birth more easily.  Try getting a 10 pound baby out of a narrow hip….oh the pain!   God knew what He was doing when He molded the female hip, believe me!

SANYO DIGITAL CAMERAAre you a woman whose weight or curves bother you?   We are not talking about being obese for we know that this is totally unhealthy.    However, you can have some lumps and bulges and still be  active and at your best self.

Remember the time when an expectant mother wore big floppy dresses to cover the little bundle growing inside herself?   Now expectant mothers carry their little “watermelon” proudly in front of themselves. Society has changed about this issue.   Now it is time to make some changes in  attitudes about real women and their bodies as well as living a long life.women maternity 2000 woman in materity 50s










What are young girls learning from their role models…whether it is their own parent…a rock star….model or others that they see on TV?    Some of the children’s books that I have written have to do with self-confidence and self-esteem.   We know that young girls go through bullying and ostracism from their peers because they are not rail thin like the models they see everywhere they look…TV, books, magazines, ads, video games, or movies.    This is hurtful and our society needs to discuss and embrace real people and who they are.  No one, adult, teen or child….male or female  needs to feel less important or unattractive…because they are measured by such an unfair standard.  All societies have their own standards of beauty and acceptance. Look no further than certain  women in Africa whose lips are their status…and not their hips. Surma woman with Lip Plate 4

It is time for women …of all ages to claim themselves.  Heredity makes a difference in who we are…and our genes will not change.  If your mother or grandmother was a curvaceous woman…then it is likely that you will be also.  If they were thin…most likely you will be too.  Of course diet plays a part as we all know.  Whoever we are, we must learn to accept ourselves…or we will never be happy.   Eat right; exercise…even if just a walk each day…and be your best.

(A side-note  here:  If you know a  good looking young man who is considering male modeling, they need to look up the term and video on “manorexia” in men that is  life-threatening. Other less known, but very prevalent is ENDOS which is also an eating disorder with grave consequences primarily found among young women. )

This video below  is worth watching…and you don’t have to blind-fold your husbands or the men in your life.  It is how a young girl could have lost her life as she entered the modeling profession.  Today she is her normal self and is considered a plus size model at her best.  Of course, a size 12 may not seem “plus” to most of us, but it is in the fashion industry.   She may have little cellulose but is now a real woman who can eat and be happy.

Highly recommended for a parent to watch with a teen girl.

(Click onto You Tube as directed for full interview. )


Adventures of Willy Worm makes a debut

It is my pleasure  to share with you my first book in a new Nanny Adventure series.  The book title is Willy the Worm.

Willy the green worm decides he is going to climb out of his hole and see the world.  He is tired of living in a damp, unhappy place. Willy demonstrates what life can be like when one just needs courage and a strong will-power.    This book helps young people from about age 8-12 think about different cultures…the likeness and differences…as they journey with Willy on a very challenging adventure.

Willie Worm Cover colorized sized copy

I will try to keep my readers updated when new books are available, either at Amazon or Kindle. Follow me here on WordPress for more blog writings or at the following:    Twitter  or  Amazon

Mental Health….and bullying…the living hell

My goal as a retired teacher has been to write books that help young people and their parents with those informative years that are so crucial.  I just read an article about  young people who lived just outside of London where a teacher stepped in and probably saved a life.

You may have a child, a grandchild, a niece or nephew that is going through the same hell that this person put another young person through when they were young.   Yes, bullying comes in many forms.  The old adage that “sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me” is certainly not true.

In the case of this bullied teen, it is wonderful that she was able to rise above it and have a productive life. So many other young people do not and feel as the girl describes in the article below.   Our prayer for all young people and older people who need mental emotional health screening and help is that they will speak out and receive the help that they deserve.  They need to know it is not shameful to share their feelings.

Sometimes these difficulties surface later in life.  The people closest to this person that they love are bewildered to what really happened to make such drastic changes in him or her.   I’m certain that everyone who has lost a child that somehow went down this slippery slope will certainly agree that there is a great need in our society today worldwide.

Charlotte Lait wrote the article below.   It is shared here in its entirety.  This article is so brutally honest.  I challenge you to read it in its entirety. At the end is a video about young people and mental health.  Since the article was written about  young people growing up in England, we share with you the thoughts of  a very famous person who speaks of the need for better mental health.  We certainly need this same emphasis here in the U.S. before our children are lost to a darkness that is difficult to change.


“Fatty, fatty, bom, bom!” I screamed, and the other 12-year-old girls around me laughed hysterically. We pointed, laughed some more, shouted out similar chants, as we ran around our school’s racing track. There were five of us, and our energy was focused on one girl, running alone, tears welling up and nobody to help her. She was our victim; she was no match for the collective energy of a group of self-appointed “cool girls.”  We let the girl overtake us on the track while we ripped her apart in private conversation.

“Her boobs look so weird, she can’t even run with them.”

“She got her period so young, there must be something wrong with her.”

As the girl continued running, boys from our grade walked by on their way to soccer practice. Perfect timing for us, as we watched them shame her body too, echoing our sentiment, validating that we had a right to our behavior. The girl, named Felicity, nickname Flick, continued running.

A lot of people assume that when kids are mean, they don’t really know what they’re doing; that they’re harmless, really. I knew exactly what I was doing, and I knew how it would affect Flick, because I’d been a victim of it for years.

From when I was seven to 13, I had no friends. None, absolutely none. And I wasn’t just left alone to quietly get on with life; kids made fun of me constantly. I had headgear (followed by all other kinds of lisp-inducing braces), horrendous granny-floral glasses and, best of all, warts. A ton of warts on my hands and arms.

Not only was I visually destined to be an elementary school outcast, but pretty soon my personality changed to fit the profile, too. I wouldn’t understand for many years later that people, particularly kids, absorb the identities they are given by others.

I subconsciously developed nervous tics, including counting everything I did in eights, right down to the pieces of toilet paper I used. I obsessively repeated whatever people said to me under my breath, over and over again until someone else spoke to me and I’d change the sentence.

One afternoon, aged 10 in the girl’s locker room (a place designed for bad things to happen) I became so frustrated with the other girls sharing inside jokes I wasn’t a part of, and so paranoid they were talking about me, I slammed the hairbrush I was holding onto the floor. It terrified the girls, only making them more inclined to shout “freak.”

It terrified me, because I felt like one.

So it was pretty great for me when Flick showed up in school. Finally, I wasn’t the biggest weirdo in town. I was pretty relieved everyone seemed to be bored with picking on me, and had moved on to something else.

In my school, tormenting others was the top social currency. I soon realized that not only did I need Flick to distract people from my own inadequacies, but if I joined in with everyone else, maybe I’d finally be accepted.

So there I was, chasing her around the running track, making her sob, breaking her down mentally, like there was no tomorrow. Like I didn’t know what that felt like.

The irony was, of course, I didn’t really like the cool kids. I had nothing in common with them, and they with me. The person I liked the most, if I was honest with myself, was this girl I made cry every day.

When we first met, at the school’s “Welcome Day” for new students, Flick seemed so comfortable in her own skin, so at peace with herself that she gave off a magnetic energy. She wore one of those Lizzie McGuire-esque rainbow tie dye tops, and pink jelly sandals (which I was obsessed with, and my parents never let me get). I’d never met anyone my age like that, and I so desperately hoped that she would overlook my shortcomings, and just like me.

I only stopped bullying Flick when a teacher forced me. The teacher was cool, young, and most of the preteen girls saw her as an older cousin. It made it all the more humiliating when we were made to apologize to Flick and reprimanded for our shameful behavior. Later, we discussed how we couldn’t believe Flick lied and said we were bullying her. She obviously wanted attention.

Too scared of punishment to go near Flick, the girls soon turned their cruelty onto me. I was so, very livid—hadn’t I proved myself to be just like them by now? What had all that effort been for?

Everything came to a head the summer before eighth grade when I was invited to a sleepover party with just a few of the girls. I picked out my clothes and PJs meticulously. Maybe I’d fool them into thinking I’d gotten cool over the summer.

That night, the girls were unrelenting. It became very clear that I was simply there because they weren’t  allowed to watch TV past 9 p.m.

They took chocolate cake and wiped it over my face, and I let them. We played one game, I can’t remember the rules for it, but I ended up naked and they laughed at how I had no breasts. I was confused—hadn’t we laughed at Flick for having breasts? I took my things into a corner and slept backward in my sleeping bag so the hood would cover my face and they wouldn’t be able to draw things on me while I slept. They put my hand in a bowl of hot water so I wet myself.

When my mother drove me home the next day, I cried hysterically and wouldn’t tell her what happened. When school started the next week, it was very clear to the class that I’d been demoted.

It didn’t take long for Flick to offer to be my friend. She’d gotten herself some of her own by that point — other girls who’d been bullied, they were sort of forming a club — and they took me in. There were no questions, no conditions; I wasn’t reverted to the bottom of a food chain because with them there wasn’t one.

It turned out that not only did Flick and I have a lot in common, we were pretty normal teenage girls; boy-obsessed, emotional, big on daydreaming. We shared secrets, we made each other scrapbooks.

Once we took the train from our suburb into London by ourselves, without permission, and way too young. As soon as we frolicked out of the station, I remembered my mom would be picking me up in half an hour from her house, so we frolicked right back onto the train. I thought we were the coolest girls in the world.

Years later and eating dinner at Flick’s house, her kid sister burst out, “Didn’t you used to bully Flick?”

As I sat, frozen in shame, Flick replied, “Yeah… how embarrassing for her!” She winked at me, a familiar expression. That night, I gave her a long-overdue apology.

“When it happened to me, I wanted to die sometimes,” I said.

“Yeah,” she replied. “I know what you mean.”

Fast-forward to today, and my best friend is essentially winning at life. She graduated from the University of Cambridge (yes, that is Cambridge) after a year of volunteering in Uganda. She survived a motorcycle crashing into her in Kampala and now calls it a “funny story.” She was elected into a full-time job as the President of Cambridge’s Student’s Union. She got her nose pierced. She still loves rainbow-colored anything. She now works with a teenage girl with Asperger’s Syndrome as her classroom aid.

And last summer, I walked down the aisle as her maid of honor, and watched her marry a loving man who is her equal in kindness and strength.

I had boyfriends in school but I call Flick my “first love” because she was the first person in my life who chose to love me. I wasn’t her family; I was a girl who had made her life hell for a long time. Our lasting friendship continues to teach me the power women gain when we forgive and lift each other up.

In one of the scrapbooks Flick and my other first friends made me, I wrote a note in the back page to myself:

“These are the best friends ever, you are too lucky to have them.

Never take them for granted

Always treat them with respect

Love them for what they are — themselves.”


It appears that in Britain, even royalty is  reaching out to the parents and children about mental health and the need to lower the stigma that is sometimes involved with seeking mental and emotional health.   We at Boyer Writes commend you.

Books by N. W. Boyer to help young people with decision making , self-esteem and bullying.


Religious Cleansing….and the Arabic symbol “N”


A NEW SYMBOL…and its meaning.  Christian N on shirt


A new symbol is being worn by Christians to show solidarity with the Christians being slaughtered in the Middle East and other places in the world.

The news has reported that Christians are the most persecuted religion in the world today.  It is akin to the persecution of the Jews throughout history and especially during WWII.

It is estimated that over 200 Christians are killed a day and is increasing daily.

The Coptic Christians of the Middle East have especially been under attack.

Egypt’s state news agency MENA quoted the spokesman for the Coptic Church as confirming that 21 Egyptian Christians believed to be held by ISIS were dead. In the video, militants in black marched the captives, dressed in orange jump suits, to a beach the group said was near Tripoli. They were forced down onto their knees, then beheaded.      

Coptic Christians being led to execution

Egyptian Coptic Christians being led to execution

These pictures clearly show the sorrow of those Christians who mourn for the young men who were murdered because they were Christians.

Egyptian Coptic Christians mourn at the Virgin Mary Church in the village of el-Aour.  AP photo

Egyptian Coptic Christians mourn at the Virgin Mary Church in the village of el-Aour. AP photo

Photos of the day - February 16, 2015



Relatives of Egyptian Coptic men killed in Libya mourn at their house in the south of Cairo








These faces and images need to be remembered….and not only their faces but call them who they are…CHRISTIANS.   Unless evil is stamped out, the world will see more of this terrible sorrow.

The following is some information about the symbol  “N” in Arabic and what it means:

When Mosul was captured in Iraq  militants began singling Christians out. The symbol that marked their homes and businesses — the Arabic letter “n,” which is pronounced “noon” and stands for Nazarene or Nasrani, the Arabic word for Christian — reportedly was a signal: convert, pay a tax or be killed. Many Christians fled.Christian N on house

A young man who  lived in Iraq for eight years and was helping with life-saving heart surgeries for Iraqi children and aid to displaced families had this to say:

“Watching the homes of Christians be marked with this Arabic letter ‘n,’ marking them for extermination – I was just very moved and hurt in my soul and inspired to try and do something to awaken the emotions of people anywhere, everywhere to pay attention to this tragedy,”

A priest in New England has joined with his congregation to distribute the small pins and patches with this same symbol.   This has become a movement of solidarity  of Christians around the world.



Goodbye Winter….Come soon Spring

How wonderful are the winters in Florida!   Of course this is why we have so many “snow birds” (People from the north coming south).   I am certain at this point most anyone in the Boston-New York areas would love to simply get away from the snow drifts and see a beautiful cherry blossom on a tree!

I really hate to rub it in to those with icicles dangling from their heavy winter coats, but just outside my house a cherry tree is beginning to put out a lovely pink blossom.    This, of course, reminds me of the two great trips that I have had to Japan…neither of which were during the cherry blossom time.   I may have to make a trip to Washington, D.C.  to see them in full bloom one spring soon….when they get finished with winter.

This blog is for all those winter weary people who would more than love to have a little spring to come their way.  You have endured much; shoveled much….and deserve a break!  We here in Florida have not forgotten the people of the Great Lakes and Minnesota.  So get yourself something hot to drink and enjoy a breath of Spring with some soothing piano music.  Winter won’t last forever.     Enjoy!

Two New Nanny Books…by N. W. Boyer

Author and Illustrator of the Nanny Book Series  Nancy W. Boyer

Author and Illustrator of the Nanny Book Series
Nancy W. Boyer

I’m happy to share with you the two new books from my Nanny Book Series.

Why  Nanny Books?    I am Nancy, the author and illustrator, who is called “Nanny” by my grandchildren.  My inspiration for these books is that as a Christian writer I believe that parents and grandparents are looking for some inspirational books…especially those that help young people with problem solving as well as  developing excellent values and ethics.

Previous books have been  Linda Long Legs,  Betty Big Ears, Bobby Big Brain  that deal with self-esteem and finding one’s gifts and talents.

The two new books are  Running Away Rita best for older young people, ages 8-14. Rita has to adjust to a new situation and this book helps young people understand how to do that. Most young people will identify with her feelings.

How to be Happy for Young People, for ages 6-10 is a brightly colored book that will appeal to various age groups with some advise and questions to be discussed after reading. 

Cover Running Way Rita2

cover happiness sized 2








Parents, Grandparents, and educators who work with young people may want to take a look at the books mentioned at the following site: Nanny Books on Amazon     They are available in the U.S.A and major countries around the world.  Kindle readers will also find them at Amazon.

Do you think you missed God’s Miracle?

Everyone on earth has heartache in one form or another.  We pray during these trying times.  Sometimes we beg God to “Just do something!”    Other times, we ask that big question, “Why?”   Friends will say, “We’re praying for you.”    Others will only mutter, “What a shame.”    Down deep we want to have a miracle to change a particular thing that is affecting our lives so greatly.

If we got that miracle, what would it do for us?   If we do not see a miracle, do we think that maybe God never heard in the first place…or He really isn’t the God of Love that we believe Him to be?   So many hard questions…so few answers.

Perhaps it was not by coincidence that I found this testimony of a man whose miracle was different from what he expected.  It was different from what his family, especially his mother or father, expected.  He found peace and a joy in life despite his circumstances.   Thank you, Scott, for sharing your story.  Now, through my blog, I am sharing it to the world for those who feel that perhaps they have missed God’s miracle.

The Accident and more on God’s grace:


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