Elizabeth Laing Thompson wrote her first story when she was five, and she’s been writing ever since. She has always been a voracious reader—in elementary school, she would stumble out of the library every week carrying a tower of books she could barely cram into the car.
She’s a PK—you know, the infamous Preacher’s Kid. Being a PK means her family moved a lot: North Florida, Georgia, Boston, Miami, New Jersey, North Carolina, back to Georgia again. Three elementary schools, two middle schools, then three high schools in two years . . . it was pretty crazy.
Moving shaped her in many ways. It forced her to become more confident and outgoing and to open herself up to new relationships quickly. Another positive thing about moving was that it brought her family close together. When you don’t have friends, you look at your siblings and say, “Well, I guess we’d better get along.” So you do. She has the most awesome memories of playing crazy war games with her two younger brothers, David and Jonathan, in the woods behind their house. The best day of her young life happened eleven days before her eleventh birthday, the day her baby sister, Alexandra Joy, was born. At first she was Elizabeth’s baby doll, then her little sidekick, and now she’s her best friend.
In middle school Elizabeth was a Nerd with a capital N. This was not entirely her fault (PK, remember?!). First, she was rhythmically challenged, and she dreaded all events in which public displays of one’s dancing ineptitude are required. And second, how could she be cool when the only music her family listened to was by Basia and Kenny G? (Yep, you probably haven’t heard of them.)
She became a Christian when she was fourteen—the most significant decision of her life, as it has shaped everything about who she is, how she thinks, what she does.
In high school Elizabeth studied her brains out and participated in every club and sport that would let her in. The volleyball team did not let her in (a wise decision on their part, as people had to duck if she ever managed to get her hands on the ball). Eventually she found her sporting home: cross country. She ran till her toes turned purple and black, always finishing eighth for her team, one place shy of a varsity slot.
Elizabeth met the dashing man who became her husband when they were both in high school—though it was years before they dated. Meeting Kevin was (at least for her) one of those classic love-at-first-sight moments: the heavens opened, angels began to sing . . . To her utter delight, they both ended up going to Duke University. She loved going to a school where no one made fun of her for doing her homework. Most weekdays at noon she wandered into the chapel to pray—and enjoy a private concert as the pipe organist rehearsed for the Sunday service. And on Tuesdays and Thursdays, if she just so happened to glance out of her dorm room window at 9 am, she would catch a glimpse of the love of her life as he strutted across campus in his letterman jacket on his way to class.
Kevin took a few years of—ahem, prodding—to see heaven open and angels sing, but he eventually came to his senses and fell in love with Elizabeth’s charms. Actually, it took her going out on a date with another guy—in Paris, of all places—to make Kevin realize that she wasn’t going to sit around being his best friend forever. They married a few years later, and it’s been a glorious ride.
Elizabeth and Kevin have spent most of their married life serving God in campus ministries all across the Southeast, and eight years ago, they planted a church in a midsized beach town.
After nearly three years of trying to start a family, she and Kevin had their first baby, born on Christmas Day—the greatest gift they’ve ever received. More babies came along over the next few years—one boy and two girls. Now they live on the North Carolina coast with four spunky kids and a dog that thinks he’s human. Kevin preaches, Elizabeth writes, and they both work with their church’s youth ministry. Their house is too loud, their closets are overflowing with books and backpacks and toys, and they wouldn’t have it any other way.