Doing the WORK....

I have gotten comments that my blog has been silent lately.  Yes it has.  I thought about apologizing for that- but I can't.  You see, I have been doing the work.  I have been writing and rewriting.

After two years immersed in my story, I have a clear goal. 

I want to finish my first book in the next three months. 

I have 75,000 words and a few hundred pages which is a great start, but at the Ragged Edge something was bothering me about my story.  All of it was written in first person (I, me) and it really needed to be in third (she, her,Afton)  so the manuscript needed to be changed...

All of it. 

There is nothing creative, or awesome or mind blowing about re writing and inserting "she" and "her" where I had had "I" and "me".  It's just plain work.  Hours of pouring over the story and changing the voice of the story without losing Afton's voice.

What began to happen was that I saw how other people's Point of View (POV) are going to be easier to insert into the story.  In chapter 1 I was able to tell the events from Maggie's perspective which will add more depth to the story. 

I already have a huge start on this first book and I am confident that before Christmas I will be finished.  Then I will go back and edit it and maybe have a couple of people read it.  And then I will submit it to the Creative Trust- the place that we learned at the Ragged Edge that we could submit our manuscripts to and see what this group of people thought of it. 

And that scares me to death! 

But that is my goal.  Finish the first book.  Edit.  Submit. 

So you see why my blogs and even Facebook posts have been few and far between.  I am working.

Stephen King says it like this:

“Talent is cheaper than table salt. What separates the talented individual from the successful one is a lot of hard work.”

Yep. 

Hard Work.

I'm signing off to get back to it.....

See you on the other side!

 

The Ripple Effect of Gloria

I've had many people visit my blog this last week to read my story of Gloria.  I have been deeply touched and humbled by their blog comments and Face Book posts.  What I hadn't counted on was the emotional chord I seemed to have touched. 

I had one reader tell me that she had not read anything for a long time that made her cry; that Gloria's story touched her.  This last week I have had people I know come and share with me their own Gloria stories.  Maybe it was a brother or sister that died, or a friend- the point is that the fact that I took a risk and shared something very personal to me opened up a dialogue for others to share.

One person told me that they had not thought about a little girl that had died when she was young, in a very long time.  Another shared very emotional details that dealt with her completely shutting down after a loved one died. 

I know that for me, Gloria's story is very personal and I put my heart and emotions on the page knowing that some people might be able to connect to it.  What I didn't realize was how the words on the page would open the past up for others.

I am honored to have been able to "bleed on the page" and share Gloria's story. 

I encourage you to share your "Gloria Story" with others.  One person said, "I can't write like you,"  I simply answered that they could talk- and that is a good place to start.  Also just jotting down feelings and thoughts in a journal or writing something down that is just for you. 

Again- I have been so moved by the responses to my blog and I treasure that dialogue. 

Thank you for sharing with me! 

Gloria

I haven't thought about Gloria for a very long time.  That memory is locked away in the heart of a woman who used to be a twelve-year- old girl.  I found myself talking about her to my 6th & 7th graders the other day, and she will not leave my thoughts.  One of the things that the Ragged Edge authors talked about was to "bleed on the page."  To put our emotions in word form.  To scream through our words.

I was eleven and Gloria was my first babysitting assignment.  Her family had moved in to a house near ours and I had befriended her older brother Donald.  He was a fun kid to hang out with- for a three year old!  When I met his mother, she was almost embarrassed to introduce me to her infant daughter.  Gloria was very mentally and physically handicapped.  Her head seemed too big for her tiny twisted body.  When she cried, it sounded like the mew of a kitten.  Her eyes could not focus on anything and she was very floppy. 

Gloria's mother, Pat, taught me how to change her diaper, how to hold her and how to feed her.  After awhile I didn't see the handicaps she had, I just saw her.  Pat started by leaving me with Gloria for a few minutes while she went to the store.  I remember being so proud that I had been the one in charge of watching out for this precious life.  I felt I was well on my way to becoming a very responsible babysitter.

Eventually Pat was able to leave for an hour or take Donald to the doctor while I stayed with Gloria.  I recall dressing her in a tiny pink dress and carrying her out to the trees near our house and while I held her in my arms, I sang to her.  She was about nine months old that day and for the first time, her eyes focused on mine as I sang song after song to her. 

As the months went by Gloria was able to turn her head slightly when she heard my voice.  When she was a year old, she weighed eleven pounds and was working so hard to hold her head up!  I knew that she was not progressing like other babies, but she had come so far and I was so proud of her! 

I turned twelve that November and it was at that time that the doctor discovered that I had scoliosis, a curvature of the spine- and it was severe.  (over 30 degrees curvature)  I would have to wear a back brace 23 out of 24 hours a day.  It looked more like a torture device that a tool to realign my back and I remember crying all night long the day after Christmas when I wore it to bed for the first time.  I felt out of place and knew I looked like a freak.  Sixth grade is not where you want to appear different, and this contraption with a metal neck ring, one metal rod down the front, and two down the back, made me look very different. 

I knew one other person might understand being different.  After my first day back at school in January, I found myself at Pat's house, crying into Gloria's neck.  She softly cooed at me and I remember laughing at her.  I felt that I could do this brace thing as long as I had Gloria to talk to. 

That weekend, Pat and the rest of the family were sick and they had Gloria put in a respite care home so that she would be taken care of.  I couldn't wait to see her the following week.

I did see her the next week, but it was in a very small coffin in a funeral home.

For reasons unknown to the family, Gloria had died in her sleep Sunday at the respite care home. 

I never got to tell her goodbye.
 I never got to tell her what she meant to me.

I don't remember the days between that Sunday and the day of her funeral.  I do know that my Mom took me out of school so that I could go to the funeral.  I have sharp images of that sweet baby in a frilly pink dress lying in the white coffin surrounded by pink flowers and a ribbon that said,"Our Darling Daughter".

My twelve year old brain could not process what was going on.  I heard some of the adults talking about the fact that Pat and Donny (her husband) were first cousins and that's why Gloria was the way she was.  I heard many say that it was for the best that she was in heaven with Jesus.

I didn't want her with Jesus!   I needed her here with me!  What kind of God takes a tiny baby away just because she was different?  What kind of God does that?

Unfortunately, no one attempted to explain it to me.  No one asked me if I was okay.

As I stood in the cemetery that January day, with the snow under my feet and the sun shining, the day wasn't the only thing that was cold.

My heart had frozen.  My twelve year old heart was breaking and I didn't know how to handle it. 

I could not tell her goodbye. 

So I turned my back as they lowered the casket in the ground and vowed that I would never again love someone like I had Gloria.  Never again would I allow my heart to feel anything like that.

When Pat and her family moved back to Arkansas in the spring, I didn't cry.  Not once. 

When I endured the teasing from being different in school, I didn't cry too much. 

I was hardening my heart and it served me well.  It got me through Jr. High.  And when I entered High School without wearing a back brace- it served me then.  I was more popular and had boyfriends.  I had friends but I did not value them too much.  I didn't want to let anyone know the pain I had inside.  The grief that I refused to deal with.  The baby I had allowed myself to love, but never told goodbye. 

I won't go into detail of how messed up I became during those years, but suffice it to say that I was a mess.  In college I did meet a boy who I did tell about Gloria.  He said he was a Christian and believed in God.  I was very skeptical of him. 

One day in January, he told me we were going on a road trip.  When we ended up in the cemetery in Mitchell, I knew why we were there.  I told him I did not remember where she was buried, so we scattered the snow off dozens of headstones with our gloved hands.

I was the one who found Gloria's stone.  It had her name on it and her birth and death.  I knelt down in the snow beside it and left my gloved hand on her name.  In that moment, I cried. 

I cried for all the years I hadn't been able to.
I cried for the loneliness I had felt.
I cried for the emptiness I had felt.
I cried for the memory of how much I had loved her.

As the tears froze on my face that day, a miracle was happening in my hard heart. 
It was softening.

It did not happen right away, but it was a long process for me.  It was a long road back to God.  But Gloria was the tiny child that paved the way for me.

Even all these years later, I am so thankful for Gloria. 

As tears run down my face now- I give thanks for God for giving us Gloria for even a little over a year. 

It was time to tell her story......

I love you Gloria Kay Heath.  You will live in my heart forever.

Doing the Work

It's been almost two weeks since my trip to Nashville and the Ragged Edge Writer's conference I went to.  When I got home, I hit the ground running- with a Teacher's meeting on Monday and parent night on Tuesday.   Don't get me wrong....I love my teaching job, but all I wanted to do was write.  So when I finally sat down to write...

Nothing. 

I had no bright idea, no inspiration, no direction of my story.

Nothing.

I was bummed.  I had just gone to this life changing workshop and I could not type a word.  I knew where my story was going, but I was stuck.  I had made the decision to put my story in third person instead of first and it put the brakes on everything.

My decision was not one I came to suddenly.  I have been thinking about it for awhile, but after listening to Ted and my fellow writers, I knew it had to be done.  But I didn't want to.  I avoided my writing corner, coming up with other things to do.  I did write- but it was the mythology and I didn't have to change that. 

Finally, this week I decided to battle the dragon, so to speak.  I took part of my manuscript and put it from first into third.  I was not inspired and I complained alot. 

It. Was. Not. Fun.

At. All.

But after I had fixed a few pages and read it to my husband, it didn't sound as disjointed as it had felt while I was replacing the "I's" with "She and her." 

It dawned on me that it will be much easier to tell the WHOLE story and not just Afton's part.  I had just been avoiding it like the plague.  Why?

Because I was dreading the change.  I was dreading the work.  I was living proof of Stephan King's quotes on writing gone astray.  My butt was not in the seat.  I was not shoveling "manure" from an upright position.  I was not doing anything. 

The last few days have been easier.  Oh, I still have a TON of re-writes to do to get this manuscript where I want it, but I'm not afraid any more. 

What's the difference? 

Blue Monkeys.

Ok- I'm not totally crazy, but blue monkeys are what those of us that attended the Ragged Edge call each other.  We are writers and we are supporting each other in this journey.  The last almost two weeks I have read their posts and examples of their writing and it gave me the courage to go and "do the work". 

Tomorrow I have one of my "Writing Days".  I am no longer dreading it.  I am excited because I know that I am a Writer and I am doing what God created me to do. 

I am a Writer. 
I am doing the work.

When Words Fail.....

I've been back in the real world for a few days and I am still struggling with the words to explain exactly what this past weekend at The Ragged Edge meant to me.  Usually the words come so easily; but today they aren't.  There are just pieces of what Ted and the others shared that are impossible for me to put into words and sentences. 

The rawness of what the five authors shared with us is like nothing I have ever heard of.  On that first day, Ted shared his bio with us.  Listening to him talk about all of his books and successes was daunting for me.  I began to wonder why in the world I was there.  Then Ted did an amazing thing.  He stopped and then said something that made me a bigger fan than before.  He told us that he was going to tell us the real story...not just a nice tidy bio.

And he did.  He shared his struggles and triumphs.  I remember thinking that if he could do it, I could too.  Maybe this writing thing was for me.  Each author shared their writing journeys and I kept thinking more and more that I related to these people- these writers.   When I began talking to other attendees I found I could relate to their stories too.  No matter what the age or gender.  We all had a common thread.  We were writers.  We were blue monkeys.  We were freaks. 

My paradigm has shifted.  My DNA has been altered forever.  How do you put that into a paragraph?  How do you sum that up?  How do you assign words and phrases to that?

You don't.

I found that I now get the phrase in the Bible about Mary pondering all the wonderful miracles that happened when Jesus was a baby and pondering them in her heart.  I'll bet that she didn't have the words either. 

I did come across a note that a friend and co-worker from Nebraska had written me five or six years ago.  At the time I was struggling with my identity (I hadn't started writing yet...) and she gave me a card with a tabby cat on the front.  The card says, "The Tabby knows where to grow its stripes".   Inside, this dear woman wrote "Know why that tabby knows where to grow his stripes?  I believe it's because God has it all figured out and planned for him- it's just a natural occurrence as to how those stripes will grow.  Your stripes come into being just as natural as the stripes on a tabby cat.  God has his plan for you too, Colette.  Just let it happen..." 

She went on to say some wonderful things and how God would be faithful to show me who I am and use the gifts he given me for His glory.  Did this woman know what God would be up to six years later?  Did she know that God would restore the gift of writing to me?  Did she know I would be in up to my eyeballs in a classic fantasy story? 

No.  She just told me that my "stripes" were there and God had it all planned and under control.  Much like Ted shared about the blue monkey.  I am blue- even if I try to fit in with the brown ones.  He made me blue.  I am different and I need to embrace that.  My stripes have been there all along- I have been blue all this time- the difference is that now I acknowledge that. 

When we met the authors face to face and had them sign our books, I enjoyed chatting with all of them, but with Ted I didn't say too much.  I told him how much the fountain scene in "Immanuel's Veins" meant to me and how beautiful it was to me.  He just stared at me and all I could do was stare back.  I could not say one more thing other than "Thank you."  Again- it was too much for words.  The other time I talked to him at the end of the conference I barely said anything either.  My heart was bleeding- my emotions were too raw.  I simply thanked him for talking to his daughter and that my dad and I had the same type of conversation a few days before he died.  That he was worried for me to be a writer, but he gave me his blessing.  My dad actually made me promise him I would write at least one novel.  How could I look into those blue eyes that were ravaged by the pain of his cancer and not promise him just that one thing?  So I made the promise....again just able to get the words out.  The eye contact was far more meaningful than the words. 

Back to Ted....the words failed me...I just said thank you.....but the eye contact was stunning.  I knew he knew what I was trying so hard to say but could not find the correct word to match the emotion. 

He knew.  He knew even without the words....

I have been thinking about a song that sums any of this up and I have to go with Dream Theater's song "Wither".  To me it has always spoken of creating something that is very personal- like my writing. 

"I wither and render myself helpless
I give in and everything is clear
I break down and let the story guide me
I wither and give myself away."

You can't be a writer and not share who you are.  It's very personal.  For me- once I let the story guide me- it changed my writing. 

Now to only find the words.....

************
Here is Dream Theater's song "Wither". 

Will the Real Writer Please Stand Up?

I am going to attempt as best as I can to explain what happened to me at The Ragged Edge conference this weekend.  First of all, you must understand that this was like no other writer's conference I have ever heard of.  They promised a raw, uncensored look at writing by published Christian authors.  The schedule was vague- 10-12 Ragged Edge Morning Session  12-1 Lunch  1-5 Ragged Edge Afternoon Session.  No tracks, no detailed syllabus, no specifics. 

Then there was Ted Dekker.  I have learned that you either love him or hate him.  He is not a middle of the road kind of guy.  I know his writing.  "Black" was the first novel of his that I ever read and it changed the way I looked at the world.  I thought "This guy I totally get.  He sees God in everything and he is not afraid to look at the things that many Christians just don't want to look at."  I thought I knew how Ted would be.

I was wrong.

Ted is an intense individual- that I expected.  What I did not expect was to see the passion, the creative genius, the humor, the unedited comments, or the love that comes out of this man in waves.  He promised that the Ragged Edge would not be like any other writer's conference- and he delivered. 

The stage was not set with folding chairs and a podium- it had a couch, coffee table, two chairs to the left of the couch and one to the right.  There were candles lit and the two huge background screens had fantastic modern art on it.  Ted called it his dungeon- like the one he writes in at home.  It gave a comfortable feel to the tone of the workshop. 

I only have one page of notes of the Friday for a reason....Ted wanted to share the emotional side to writing.  He and the other authors shared their joys and struggles with the writing profession.  The more they shared about who they were and what makes a writer, the more I began to relax and my heart soared. 

They were all freaks like me...  I was not alone!  Ted calls himself, "A blue monkey in a brown monkey world."  I can identify with that.  As he and Tosca, Eric, Bob, and Steven began to share their stories and the traits that make up a writer...there was a part of me that was validated.  Some of the things I do are not flaws- they are characteristics of a writer.

One of the authors said that when he takes his wife out to dinner, he chooses a table where he can look at the wall.  That way he is not tempted to observe the other people around him.  I can totally relate to that!  Observation is a powerful trait of a writer.  We watch others around us.  Where others would not notice subtle things- we do.  For example last night at PF Changs I noticed the female servers that were gathered around an attractive dark headed male server.  All of the girls were vying for his attention and one girl looked at the others and flipped her blond hair.  The guy's eyes were immediately on her.  It was fascinating to me!  I'm sure no one else noticed but I did because I am a writer and I observe.

Another trait of writers (especially fiction) is our intense feelings for everything.  I know I have been called moody or told that I wear my heart on my sleeve.  And I do.  Whatever is going on with me I feel it intensely.  It sucks for the people around me sometimes- but it is invaluable for my writing.  I need to know the devastation My main character, Afton, feels when she loses her friend, the elation she feels when she falls in love, the utter desperation when she feels she has failed her quest.  If I don't feel it- the reader won't either.

Ted told us that we have to bleed on the page.  That we have to scream at it to even get our readers to hear a whisper.  That we needed to give our stories all the emotion we had.  We can dip into the well of our own experiences as well in order to relate to things that are in our stories.  I know that I can remember how lost I felt when my dad died.  How elated I felt the first time I held Kendall and Ian in my arms.  How scared to death I felt when Rich was on a deck that collapsed and I thought I was going to be a widow. 

Imagination is also a powerful trait for a writer.  Now, any of you that know me, know that I have a well developed imagination.  I can picture dragons flying in the sky and armies of skeletons ready for battle.  I can imagine being someone else and write their POV (point of view) in a very realistic way.  Tosca Lee called it "The access to the world beyond."  and "Our window into God's heart." 

I love that!  I love that something that makes me unique and quirky is a window into my King's heart!  Wow. 

It's also a safe way to deal with things that I would not do in real life.  I am able to shatter people's lives, take things away that are dear to them, and to kill people.  I am able to wage war and have dragons let loose their fire on unsuspecting victims.  I am the creator of my world and I take that very seriously.  These people that I have created are precious to me.  I am very protective of my world and the story that is created about it.  I could do none of this without my imagination. 

What it boils down to is this.  I am a writer. 

What I thought were weaknesses are really strengths. 

I am a writer.

*************

I know I have posted this song before...but I realized this morning how Coldplay's "Every Teardrop is a Waterfall" sums up my writing.  The video has bright colors all mixing together in a location that is gray and rundown.  I think as writers- we bring those colors and intensity to those that have forgotten.  The references to my favorite song- music is a powerful tool that I use in my writing.  Every teardrop is a waterfall is a shout out to the fact that every tear we see as writers- we see everything and feel everything behind that tear. 

"You can hurt me bad....but still I'll raise the flag."  Writing and attempting to get published can be a painful experience..but I am committed to persevere.   I will raise the flag.

The way the front man raises his arms in the "flag" lines.....it's surrendering to a Power bigger than ourselves.  without Him there would be no words, no imagination, no observation. 

So here is the video.  If you haven't watched it...I highly recommend it.  If you have seen it...watch it again. 

I will blog more about the Ragged Edge later.  This writer is tired! 

Standing on the Edge.....

Tomorrow I will be on the road to Nashville to attend The Ragged Edge, a very unconventional writer's workshop.  Until a week ago I had made my peace with not going to this...but one email changed all of that.  Turns out I was the runner up in author Tosca Lee's essay contest.  I had to write in 200 words or less why I wanted to go to the conference. 

So I wrote about the sound of dragon wings, and how my dad heard them long before I did.  When my dad made me promise to him two days before he died that I would write a book I had no idea it would be 11 years before I started.  I explained how an idea of a ordinary girl who learned to sword fight turned into an epic tale of good vs. evil and had a cast of characters including skeletons, giants, dragons, and kings.  It is a story that has grabbed my heart and I can't stop working on it if I tried. 

The winner of Tosca's contest could not make it and she asked me if I wanted it.  Of course I said YES!  I am so honored to have won this $650 ticket!  With Rich out of work there is no way I could have gone otherwise.  Tomorrow I will sit at the feet of some of the most unconventional christian authors and hear their hearts. 

As I get ready today....I wanted to blog and while I am typing this...RED is playing on Youtube.  Without this band I would not have the inspiration for some of my most important scenes in my story.  It all started with "Let Go" when I first pictured a scene in my head with such clarity- it freaked me out a little.  I had no idea when I started Afton's story two years ago just what would develop in the novel, but in my heart.

This story of a girl with a sword has left it's mark on my heart already.  I have been challenged to look at my relationships with my family, friends, and enemies and they have been left on the pages of this epic story.  I have learned how to be a better observer of what is around me.  I have learned about the Celtic way of life and I have learned about symbolism and the power of love. 

I feel as if I am standing on the edge of the next part of this journey...and it's not a mistake that this workshop is called The Ragged Edge.  When I blog about this adventure next week I am sure that I will changed.  I hope to be able to put into words the impact this weekend had on me. 

I also have to give a big shout out to those of you that read my blog and encourage me in this project.  I know there are many days that you have given me the strength and courage to keep going!  I hope and pray that you continue to hang with me as I keep plowing ahead with this story. 

I am excited and nervous about tomorrow because of the unknown.  I have wanted to do something like this for so long, that I am trying to have no expectations about it.  I do know that the authors that will be speaking are very out of the box and will challenge me.  I am so up for that! 

Please keep me in your thoughts and prayers this weekend as I stand on the edge of something new (and old).  I wanted to post one RED song and found that I cannot make a decision between them...so I am posting both. 

Let Go was the first song I ever "saw" a scene to, and Ordinary World- the video (esp. the last 10 seconds or so) slapped me upside the head one day and got me back on track. 

Here's to a new adventure.........

The 11th Hour

I am a fan of the underdog.

I love it when the odds are stacked against the good guys and it looks like the bad guys are going to win....and at the last second something happens and the bad guys go down.
I don't know many people that don't cheer for the side that shouldn't have won. 

So- I love it when things work out for people when against all odds- it shouldn't.

Today- that person was me.  I had found out a few weeks ago that there were scholarships for writers who wanted to go to "The Ragged Edge"- a rather unconventional writer's workshop led by author Ted Dekker.  There was no way I could afford the $650 ticket so I entered four or five contests to win a scholarship.  I thought I had a chance of winning at least one of the contests and was extremely disappointed when I did not get a scholarship.  I even started a fund for next year's workshop.

I got up early this morning to do some writing.  It's always quiet at 5am so that's when I get some of my best stuff written.  After I had spent an hour or so writing, I checked my email and was surprised to see one from Tosca Lee- one of the authors that will be at the Ragged Edge.  She explained that I was the runner up in her contest and that the winner was not able to go to the workshop and would I be interested in the ticket?

Ummmmmmm......YES!!  I ran in the bedroom and woke my husband up to tell him.  I thought I was still dreaming but when I showed him the email- it was still there.  We figured out a very creative way to combine a brief family vacation with the workshop.  So next week we will be heading to Nashville! 

Do I care that I was the runner up? 
Nope.  Not if that means that I will get the chance to sit at the feet of some awesome and innovative authors and learn from their wisdom.
What matters is that I am seeing yet another "long-shot" in my writing journey coming through for me.

Coincidence?
Hardly. 
Destiny?
Absolutely.
Is this a shift in my favor at the 11th hour?
Yes it is.
And I have a feeling that my life will never be the same.

Have you ever had an 11th Hour experience?  I'd love to hear about it! 

Here's to trusting God- even when it looks the darkest.  You never know what will happen next.

Here is a video of Switchfoot's new single "Dark Horses".  I thought it was very appropriate for my post tonight.

 

No Casket Should Ever Be This Small

This morning I found myself on a beautiful green lawn with huge established trees.  The birds were singing and the sky was blue and dotted with fluffy clouds.  The only thing that did not fit was the tiny casket under the green awning surrounded by headstones.

I was in a cemetery at the graveside service of a baby that had never had a chance to take her first breath.  Baby Mackenzie was only 22 weeks developed when she died.  Her big brother had been a student of mine last year and I knew I had to attend this service for him and his family. 

As I stood looking at the smallest casket I had ever seen I grabbed my husband's hand and reached out to touch my son's head and moved it to my daughter's shoulder.  I listened to the pastor offer words of comfort to the grieving family, all the while fighting back his own tears.  He is a father- and this service was very personal to him- and to everyone there who was a parent.  He motioned to the tiny box and said "No casket should ever be this small." 

The death of a child is never easy to understand.  I don't think it fits into our box of easy answers and that makes it tough to explain.  The pastor used a very unconventional scripture that I thought fit the occasion.  He talked about the man who had been blind from birth.  People asked Jesus whose fault the blindness was- the man's sin, or the man's family.  "neither" Jesus said. 

For me, it's not about blame or answering the "why".  I think you can get stuck there trying to find answers. It's about the "Who".  I know Who it is that will walk this family through their grief.  I know Who it is that is with me when I don't understand- when I question- when I yell at the sky because I am in pain.  I know Who it is that calms the storm.  I know Who...and that has made all the difference.  

Psalm 91 says-  "You are my refuge and strength - you are my hiding place.  You hear my voice when I call  before I say anything at all.  In desperate need I cry only to realize the hand that heals the sick has my name written on it."

I love the visual of my name being etched on His hand.  It cannot come off...it is permanent.  And somehow- His hands are large enough to hold all of those tattooed names on His skin.

I know that there was a new name added to my Savior's hand last Friday.....

Mackenzie.

*******************

Here is Psalm 91- by Sonicflood

Breathing Lessons from a Man Who Lived 1700 Years Ago.....

If you know me- you know these two things:

1- I am a History geek.

2- I am a mover and a shaker.

I have always been fascinated with history- what happened in the past and how that affects us now.  I remember in high school, doing research on World War II-not for a project; but because I wanted to.  (geeky- I know.) But I love history.

 I came across a song yesterday called "Late Have I Loved You" by Gungor.  It spoke to me and I have been listening to it over and over.  I had put the song on FaceBook and a friend from high school commented that it was from a prayer by St. Augustine. Being the history buff I am- I looked it up..and St. Augustine lived in the 300's.  He didn't come to know God until he was in his 30's and a part of his writings are the song I referenced earlier.

Late have I loved You
Beauty so ancient
So new
Late have I loved You
You were within me, but I was outside You
It was there that I searched for You
You were here with me
But I was not with You
It was there that You found me
You called and You shouted
You broke through my deafness
You flashed and you shone
Dispelled all my blindness
You breathed Your fragrance on me
I drew in Your breath
And I keep on breathing
I’ve tasted I’ve seen
And now I want more
You breathed Your fragrance on me
Late have I loved You

The one piece of the song that spoke to me (maybe shouted??)  was " I drew in Your breath- and I keep on breathing..."

I thought about some of the songs that have been speaking to me personally that are on my novel playlist  and eight of them talk about breathing.  Why is that such a big deal?  My number two thing in my intro today is that I am a mover and shaker...I am a list maker, a doer, a gal that gets things done.  Someone once told me that if I went after something like a pit bull...I wouldn't let go until I got what I wanted. 

On some level- that is a compliment- and on another it's a huge stumbling block.  There are so many times that I think I can get things done all by myself...and I try again and again in my own power to do things that I need God's help but I don't ask for it. 

"And this is how it feels when I ignore the words You spoke to me.
And this where I lose myself when I keep running away from You
And this is who I am when I don't know myself anymore...this is what I choose when it's all left up to me...
Breathe Your life into me-I can't feel You....I'm falling- falling faster.
Breathe Your life into me- I still need You- I'm falling...falling....breathe into me." ~RED "Breathe Into Me"

This was the first RED song I ever downloaded and it is still my all time favorite because it is so true for me.  If I go and do things in my own power- I know that sooner or later I will lose myself.  Somewhere along the way I will give up, or sell out, or go crazy.  If I am not breathing in His Spirit...I'm going to get it all wrong. 

How do I know that? 

Experience. 

RED's song goes on to talk about "This is how it looks when I am standing on the edge...this is how I break apart when I finally hit the ground...."  I cannot count the times I have stood on the edge of something and end up shattering into pieces because I tried to do something my own way and in my own power. 

There is a song by Thousand Foot Krutch called "Breathe You In"

"I've tried so hard to not walk away and when things don't go my way-
I still carry on and on just the same.
I've always been strong- I can't make this happen cuz I need to breathe- I need to breathe You in.
Fear of becoming- I'm so tired of running- I want to breathe You in- I want to breathe You in.
I'm going in-so cover me-Your compass will help me turn the page...."

Ok-here is the hard part for me.  I don't like to stop and just breathe.  I like to be going and doing and accomplishing things....marking them off my list...but I don't like to sit around. 

When I get all worked up from constantly being on the go...my husband will tell me to "just breathe."  Usually I don't like it at the time- but I know when I hear it that I have gotten too involved in whatever it is and have not taken time to "chill". 

Another Thousand Foot Krutch song Learn to Breathe- says "Take the time to learn to breathe.."

Learn to breathe?   Me?  I thought breathing was something I do without even thinking about....

But those deep breaths? 
The time to breathe in and out and refocus myself?
The breaths that I need from a higher power so that I can do what I was created to do?

Those are different. 
That kind of breathing is the kind that St. Augustine was talking about- 1700 years ago.
That's the kind of breathing that is going to keep me strong.
Those breaths are going to fill me when I don't think I can keep going.
Those breaths are going to transform me from what I am now into what He knows I can be.

All I have to do?

Just breathe.


*****************

Songs on my "Breathing Playlist"

"Breathe"- Ben Cantelon
"Late Have I Loved You" - Gungor
"Breathe"- Superchick
"Breathe Into Me" RED  (remix also) 
"Breathe You In" Thousand Foot Krutch
"Breathe" Amberlin
"Breathless"  Better Than Ezra
'Learn to Breathe" Thousand Foot Krutch


2 videos----Late Have I Loved You and Breathe You In

Love Is In the Air!

One of the pieces to my story is love.  Yes- there is romantic love, but there is also the love between friends, parent/child, love for your country, etc. 

After so many weeks of listening to play lists: "Fighting Music" & "Battle Music", I am listening to "Novel Love Songs".  It is a nice change of pace.  One thing that I have to mention is that out of the 21 songs that are on the list- only three artists are Christian.  Which makes me wonder why more CM artists don't write love songs.  I'm not talking love songs to Jesus and God- because there are many of those- but love between two people.  I suppose "Already Over" and "Never Be the Same" by RED could go either way- but for the novel they are between two people.  Plumb and Switchfoot are the other two artists. 

Am I complaining?   Not at all--I just thought it was interesting...... 

One of the areas I am exploring is romantic love.  One character would be considered one of the bad guys- yet I am walking with him through the love he had for a woman - to the point that he gave up his freedom .  The more time I spend with him, the more I understand that love can be intense and frightening. 

It can also be hilarious!  Another couple are so mismatched....he is huge and she is tiny.  He is loud and she is more reserved.  They really don't see what everyone else does... they were made for each other!  He loves her with a sweetness that gets me every time. 

Love can hit with a force that is almost unexplainable.  A man takes one look at a woman and it is over for him....   And for another couple- it takes them a long time to figure the love thing out.  They were friends for a very long time and each at different times they come to the realization that they love the other person.  For me, it was interesting to think about that moment that you "know" you are in love with someone. 

Is my story a romance?  No- it's fantasy-adventure, but there is that romantic piece to it.  But I have also explored love of a parent for a child.  THAT has been interesting.  Yes- I have drawn on my experience as a parent for some of it, but when your child dies....that is something I have not walked through.  Or when you have to leave a child behind.  I have been gleaning stories of servicemen and women to help me get the emotion that comes with that. 

Love between friends is also explored -including love between soldiers.  I've interviewed men in the service and gotten their take on your 'unit' being your family and the lengths you would go to in order to keep each other safe and what it does to each person when they lose a soldier. 

There is also a 'higher power' element and the love that goes along with that.  It has challenged me and I have wrestled with it, but it has been an honor to do so. 

Today I would like to challenge you to look at the different facets of love in your own life.  How has each had an impact on who you are as a person?  If you have anything you'd like to share with me...please PM me on facebook or leave a comment here.  I'm still researching .....

I will leave you with Plumb's love song "Blush".

Every Teardrop Is a Waterfall....

I'm not sure why in the last week or so I have been getting more and more detail to my story- especially near the end.  No- I'm not going into great detail because that would be a spoiling a surprise- but let's say that the ending to this tale will not disappoint! 

The thing that continues to amaze me is the timing of songs, movie clips, quotes, and other things that cross my path.  For example- I was watching the Matrix with Rich last night and Morpheus says "There is a difference between knowing the path and walking the path."  It fit right in with something in the end that I had just visualized in my head only hours before. 

Also this quote hit me between the eyes..
."Your time is limited, so don't waste it living someone else's life and don't let the noise of others' opinions drown out your own inner voice. Most important, have the courage to follow your heart and intuition. They somehow already know what you truly want to become." —Steve Jobs

That inner voice.....boy am I getting to know the sound of that! 

And the new song by Coldplay that I had downloaded last week thinking it was just a song to enjoy and listen to turned into a huge conduit for me visualizing an important theme for Afton. 

Two lyrical gems:

"Maybe I’m in the black, maybe I’m on my knees
Maybe I’m in the gap between the two trapezes
But my heart is beating and my pulses start
Cathedrals in my heart."

Once I really thought about this- being in the black would be not being able to see anything.  If you are on your knees you are pretty desperate.  Maybe you are begging or praying or proposing marriage.  Being on your knees is never a neutral position.  And the gap between two trapezes?  There is a whole lot of unknown there.  How fast do you need to go to grab the other bar?  How do you let go of the bar that is safe?  What if you fall and there is no net? 

If my heart is beating and my pulses are starting Cathedrals.....those building took a long time to construct.  They were not even built in a lifetime.  It made me think about things that we start- especially in our children- that we will not live to see finished. 

"So you  can hurt, hurt me bad.

But still I will raise the flag."

We can put up with a lot of pain and still raise our "flags".  The flag may be our faith, our family, our hopes and dreams... whatever the flag is- we can still raise it proudly- even in the midst of great pain. 

I've also thought about how "every teardrop is a waterfall."  I interpret that this way:  We have no idea what other people are going through.  What kinds of emotions are tied up in their tears.

  When I was going through infertility- those tears were filled with dashed hopes and dreams of ever having a baby.  When my dad died those tears were full of years lost with him and how much I missed him.  On the days both kids were born- those tears were full of hope and happiness. 

All of these things fit into my story.  AND they also fit into where my life is right now.

Isn't it funny how life is like that? 

As always- I want you to connect this post to your life.

  What things has God brought across your path this week?  What is He using to speak to you?  Are you listening? 

What waterfalls have been in your tears? 

Do you know your path or are you walking your path? 

Where ever you are on your journey.....Be encouraged!!  You are in good company!!!

Here is the video to the Coldplay song......

 

Mighty Warrior

This week I have been doing a whole lot of thinking about how my story first began and how far I have come.  The first paragraph of my prologue came in August three years ago.  I really had no idea what I was doing or who the characters were.  I remember tucking those first sentences in my Message Bible before I went to a Beth Moore conference. 

Any of you who have ever been involved in her Bible studies- you know that she speaks the truth and she is very bold!  I remember thinking that there was NO way that I could put a novel together and that I must be totally crazy!  In the morning session she spoke about the impossible and how God was going to use the things that seem too big or too outrageous to show His power.  I just kept thinking about that paragraph and wondered if He cared about that at all.

And then.....there was a whole lot of nothing.  I kicked around some ideas- but for the most part I had nothing.  Then in January- at church one morning I felt in my heart as if I was being called "Warrior Girl".  It made sense because my novel is made up of these Women Warriors and that is something I could relate to.  Then- the bottom seemed to drop out for me personally.  My mom was diagnosed with breast cancer, I was having horrible cysts and tons of pain, and my neighbor's husband left her.  What a mess!  The book really took a backseat then. 

In May I had major surgery and it was in June that the book took off!  I had so many ideas and spent hours doing research on Celtic things, animals, swords, etc.  The storyline was plotted out and I began to work on my characters.  As the summer went by- I had more and more manuscript-but something was missing.  I was getting all of the parts for the Good Guys...but nothing for the Bad Guys.

Then in church again....I felt as if I was being called "Writer"- which to me was a joke!  I was just playing at this- the book was a hobby- a diversion- but not a serious thing.  Being known as a writer was serious.  It meant that I was doing this for real...with the hopes that one day the novel would get published.

Was I crazy?  Maybe.  But when I called the Frazier Museum and told them I was writing a novel and needed to do research on their swords....it got me in through the special back entrance and allowed me into the basement where they kept all of their costumes.   It also got me into the sword ring where I took video.  I also had the chance to work with a two handed sword and learned some sword fighting stances.  All because I told them I was a writer.

That was one step closer to putting things together.  After the RED concert in Louisville in Feb. I met my unexpected character and decided to leave him in the story.  He honestly scared me to death...but he was the one who showed me the "dark side" of my story.  I did not feel like a warrior or a writer.  What surprised me when I was doing the writing assignment where I put myself in the story- I am always called Writer.  Never my first or last name....just Writer. 

Fast forward to yesterday....in church our pastor was talking about Gideon and how the Lord called him Mighty Warrior.  Really?  Here was a guy who was scared to death and was threshing wheat in a wine press so that the enemy would not see him.  He said that "God knows who you are, even when you are not sure."

I had to stop for a minute as I was reminded that two years ago I was in the same boat.  When I heard the name Warrior Girl it did not seem to fit me yet.  And then later on- I really struggled with the title Writer.  The funny thing is when our pastor told us to write down two words that describe us I wrote "powerful writer".  WHAT?  When did that become my truth? 

Two things pastor said yesterday:
1-God called Gideon Mighty Warrior because he saw who he would become.
2-God met Gideon in the strength that he had. (God did not wait until Gideon became the Mighty Warrior- he met him at his wimpy stage and worked with what he had.)

Ok- so these past two years I have been working through those truths.  And if you know anything about the story of Gideon you know that later on he would be asked to reduce his army of thousands down to 300.  Why?  So that Gideon would know it was the Lord winning the battle and not Gideon.  Pastor Dave then said this...
"We limit God because we pick things that are relatively safe so that if God doesn't come through we can still do it ourselves."

Then Gideon is called to battle in a very unconventional way- but by that time he knows God's voice and follows through with it even though it seems CRAZY!  And God comes through for Gideon.  Even with torches and clay pots.  Even with 300 men against thousands.  Even in a man that was scared to death and did not see himself as a warrior.  Even then.

I had to stop for a moment and look at that in my own life.  I was scared to death about beginning a novel and questioned it a thousand times.  I have no idea how it will all come together, but each day, each idea, each paragraph- I am coming closer to the end.  Then begins the search for an editor and publisher and all of those "book" things.  But for now- I am going to take the mantel of Writer and keep doing what I now do best.  And that is to write.  I have chosen to do something that is NOT safe....am I scared? 

Yes I am. 

But I also know that the One who has been calling me Warrior Girl and Writer has got this one.  So - like Gideon- I just keep moving forward.

What about you?  Is there something that you are scared to death of?  Something that you are limiting God in?  Are you being called a name that you do not feel you can "fit" into?  I encourage you to explore that today and see where it takes you.  You will not be disappointed! 

I am including the video "Get It Right" by Silverline.  Be encouraged Mighty Warrior!  (and watch the video to the very end....)

Girl Power!

I woke up this morning with Afton on my mind.  That's not a big deal considering she is my main character in my novel...but she is unique in the fact that most high adventure main characters are boys.  (Percy Jackson, Harry Potter, etc.)  Since the first day I came up with the idea for the story- she has been the hero of the story.  Sure- there are plenty of guys in the story, as a matter of fact Afton's best friend is a boy named Will, but she along with a few other girls, have the spotlight.

I had someone ask me if Afton was like Zena.  My reply?  No.  Afton is just a girl who find herself in the midst of a quest.  A quest she did not ask for and in a battle she did not start.  Along the way she finds herself in many different situations that help her to become the woman she was meant to be. 

I would have to say that my inspiration for Afton came from the voices of girls in books that I loved as a girl.  Heidi, Anne, Caddie, Laura, Jo, and Scout to name a few.  Here were strong girls that, in their own unique way, found their way into the hearts of those that read their stories.  In today's literature there are a whole new generation of strong girls: Bella, Clary, and Katniss- they too join the ranks of strong girls. 

I love that Afton loves sword fighting!  It is like breathing to her and I love that she is very accomplished at it.  She did have some natural talent for it, but also trained hard to become the warrior she is near the end.  That doesn't mean she is any less female just because she is good with a sword.  That's just her "thing".  Other girls in the story are good at other things; healing others, singing, speaking words of truth.  (There is another girl who is talented not just with the sword but with other weapons too!  She is a kick!) 
The thing I am learning through the creative process is that strength comes in many different forms.  One does not have to wield a sword to be powerful. 

All I have to do is look at the women and girls around me to know this truth. 
     I see power in the girl who is afraid to go to a new school, but gets the courage to do it and finds out she is stronger than she ever suspected! 
     I see the woman whose husband left, who is now raising her children on her own and taking chances she never dreamed of two years ago.
     I know several women who are finding that as they pick through the pieces of their former lives- they are finding shards that they are using to rebuild their lives and the lives of those around them.
    I love the women who use their creative voice to tell their story.  Be it through dance, poetry, jewelry making, sewing, or writing a novel, the women around me are not sitting in silence- they are letting their voices be heard! 

I get so emotional when I really think about the women in my past and in my present who have shared their lives with me.  You have all had a part in writing my novel, because you have spoken into my life.  I think of both my grandmothers, my mom, my friends in high school and college, my friends in several states, my former students, and the list goes on. 

So to all of those women and girls.....this blog is for YOU today!  Thank you for touching my life with your unique story and showing me the power you have.  I am so glad our paths have crossed! 

I am dedicating the song "Fire In My Eyes" by Fireflight  to all of you!

Here's to Girl Power!!

***********************
The book characters I referred to:
Heidi- "Heidi"
Anne- "Anne of Green Gables"
Caddie- "Caddie Woodlawn"
Laura- "Little House on the Prairie"
Jo- "Little Women"
Scout- "To Kill a Mockingbird"
Bella- "Breaking Dawn"
Clary-"City of Bones"
Katniss- "Hunger Games"

Hope & Ravens

I've been reading a book called "Plan B" by Pete Wilson.  It's all about how God works through those Plan B moments in your life...you know- when you have Plan A all figured out and it crashes down around you and you have to go to Plan B. 

No one chooses a Plan B- it just happens.  And I know because I have been through a few in my life- having scoliosis and wearing a back brace for three years in Jr. High (that makes you really popular by the way), dealing with an eating disorder, the death of my grandma, grandpa and dad in a four month period of time, moving far away from family & friends, and infertility.  I am no stranger to Plan Bs, so you would think I would be prepared for them by now. 

Nope.

Not even close. 

My husband lost his job six months ago and things have been really tough.  There has been no one to bail us out and it is a scary time, especially having two kids.  The job hunt has been slow and we are all without health insurance.  Honestly- there are some things that have not gotten paid.  I hate it with all my heart- but it is what it is.  It stinks.  And in moments of weakness I have not dealt with it very well. 

So when I had the chance to see RED in Indy- I was so stoked because I knew I would take some shred of hope with me.  And it got cancelled.  Another Plan B- actually one of the gals with me that night called it that- and I didn't do too well with that either.  Then I jumped at the chance to go see them in Nashville and the shred of hope that I so longed for was WAY more than that! 

You see- God spoke through those four guys that night and gave me a whole lot of hope and not just a shred!  When Michael sang "Not Alone" he knelt down and during the part "And I will be your hope, when you feel like it's over, I will pick you up- when your whole world shatters," and as he looked in my eyes- I knew that God had ahold of me- of my family- my novel- my school- my friends- He had it. 

Pete Wilson says this; "While life is uncertain, God is not.  While our power is limited, God's is limitless.  While our hope may be fragile, God is hope himself." 

Hope. 

My hope is fragile at best..but God IS hope.  Wow!  That is an amazing truth!  And it mirrors "Not Alone"
"I am with you, I will carry you through it all.  I won't leave you, I will catch you when you feel like letting go, cuz you're not, you're not alone..."

It's been a theme for me the last few weeks....hope.  It has come in the form of Bible verses, songs, movies, you name it- it has come my way. 

So today I found out that I did not get selected for the writing conference that I applied for a scholarship for.  I was crushed and here we go with Plan B again.... but I read the words from the book "Plan B"  and here is what it said:
"I can have hope when there is no circumstantial reason to have hope.  My hope is not based on what the stock market does or what others think of me or whether my life turns out the way I want it to turn out.  My hope is based on a powerful, in-control God who can do and will do the impossible."

Yep..more hope. 

Then I had a 'light bulb' moment.  Elijah in the Bible had been dealing with some tough things and found himself alone and without food.  But God sent him hope in the form of a raven.  That raven fed Elijah faithfully and was God's way of giving him hope. 

Just as I know God has sent my ravens in my yard as well as in my novel.  They give me hope.  And I know that God has plans that I have no clue about.  No matter what the Plan B is- unemployment or a dashed dream or whatever you are going through right now...Hope is there.

When I was having my pity party about the writing thing this afternoon and was bulleting prayers at God- the only thing I could think of was He was saying- "I've got this."

And that's enough for me.

Careful...or You'll End Up in My Novel

I am an observer.  I love to watch people- and I learned from the master.  My father was rather unassuming but he loved to people watch.  When he and mom went to Las Vegas it was no surprise to me that his favorite thing to do was watch the people in the lobby of the hotel they stayed in.  (He saw many bizarre people by the way...)  Through the years I have gleaned much from just stepping back and watching people.  Maybe that's why at first I may seem quiet or stuck up.  I'm not either of those things, but I am observing the situation.  It gives me a better idea of how to proceed.

Turns out this is an invaluable tool for writers.  Even though I write fiction, I pick up inspiration from watching people.  Not one single character is based on one person- but a mish-mash of physical, emotional, and verbal characteristics.  So when a dear friend of mine from Nebraska sent me a sign that reads "Careful.. or you'll end up in my novel" it was the truth.  If the people around me really knew what I have picked up from watching them....well I don't know if they would be honored or freaked out.  (so far no restraining orders have been issued against me!  LOL!) 

For example, last night at the fireworks display- I saw a very tiny girl sitting on an older man's shoulders.  The man was grinning from ear to ear and the itty-bitty was grabbing handfuls of his hair and giggling like mad.  As I watched them, my mind took note of the man's movement, his smile and the girl's laughter.  I know somewhere in my story an older man will have a small child on his shoulders with the same smile on his face.  That man will never know that his simple act of carrying the small girl (possibly his granddaughter?)  inspired a small scene in my novel. 

As I mentioned, not one single person in my story is based on a real person- but pieces of them.  For example- one of my main guys looks like the lead singer in Disciple- has the intensity and drive of Michael from RED- has the personality of my husband- and a voice similar to Josh Groban.  So is he any one of those folks?  Nope.  He is made up of pieces of them....and others too.

I have found that Cracker Barrel is a wonderful place to get ideas from.  On Christmas Eve last year there was a huge group of guys (all ages and sizes) hanging out and eating together.  The noise level was crazy and it was hard for me to focus on any one person -there was so many of them talking and telling stories.  Then the food came....and it became silent.  The noise didn't fade away- it simply stopped.  I fought the urge to laugh out loud!  As they ate- there were snippets of conversation- but not much.  I whipped my notebook out (I carry one or two of them everywhere....even small ones for my purse)  and wrote furiously.  I know it will end up somewhere in the novel.  Maybe the guys are eating in the Great Hall of a castle...I don't know..but it inspired me. 

If you are around me at all...chances are I have snatched something to use in my story.  I probably won't tell you because like I said my characters are their own creations, but when the day comes that you read my book, you may wonder about it. 

I have a set of twin brothers in my story and they have been so much fun to create.  I can tell you that they started out as inspiration from a band that I love....but they have evolved into their own personalities and I am so crazy about Thad and Zev!  I took a starting point and observed the real people- then I took some other things and created my characters. 

So really....you don't need to be careful- chances are you are in my novel in some way, shape. or form.  And if you aren't in this one--you may be in the next!  LOL! 

I challenge you to look around today.  Just sit back and watch what's going on around you.  You don't have to be a writer to observe and get inspiration from others. 

By the way....when I finally found a picture of one of my bad guys- it didn't come from someone I knew, it came in a advertisement for men's clothes.  I opened up the mailbox and there he was, just waiting for me to notice him! 

23 Years Later- What that 21 year-old bride Did Not Know...

Today is our 23rd Wedding Anniversary.  As I think about that, I am reminded that I was only 21 years old when I promised to love and honor in good times and bad, sickness and health and all the other promises we made that day. 

My 21 year old self did not know what would be embedded in those 23 years.  I knew we wanted children but did not think it would take 13 years for that to happen.  I had no idea that we would live in seven different communities, both of us graduated from college, have two cats and three dogs, and that I would lose my dad at 32. 

No- there were a lot of things my 21 year old self did not know.  Like how much work it takes to keep communication going in a relationship.  How much you have to give of yourself, or how loud your new husband would SNORE!!  LOL~

But that 21 year old also had no idea of what a wonderful man she had.  She had no idea of the caliber of man she had chosen.  How he would support her and encourage her and make her laugh when things seemed hopeless, and how all these years later- she would still adore him.  She could not have imagined how many times he would pray with and for her, and the little surprises he would shower on her.

I remember one Christmas that Rich sent me on a scavenger hunt and ended with a huge box.  I kept opening and opening as the boxes got smaller and smaller until I opened a key.  The key opened a drawer in our computer cabinet and inside was a ring box with a sapphire ring inside!  I still don't know how he managed to afford it or hide it- but he did. 

I would tell that 21 year old girl that when she would journey through one of the darkest times in her life (her grandma, grandpa and dad would all die in less than 5 months)  that her husband would be right there holding her up, crying with her, and helping her through the mind-numbing pain.  He would also be there for two of the greatest days ever....the day Kendall was born and the day Ian was born.  How he cut each of their umbilical cords and was right there while they were weighed and measured.  How he rejoiced in each child and how he continues to love and guide each of them now. 

I think that in another 23 years what my 67 year old self will say to the 44 year old who is typing this now.  What other sorrows and joys will we have walked through together? 

All I can say  is that 23 years ago my life was joined with another....and I am honored and humbled to have walked this journey with him....

I love you Rich!!

Super Heroes are my Friends!

I've been trying to give myself some time off now that school is out and try and "dial down".  What I did not bargain for was this past week. 

I'm usually a very positive person and don't get too negative or depressed about things.  And then this week happened.  We really thought that my husband would get the job he had interviewed for which would bring some welcome relief to this 5 months of unemployment.  I had auditioned for a show that I had always wanted to do and I had tickets to see my favorite band in the entire universe...RED.  I had also planned on really getting on with my writing.

So- the hubby did not get the job- I did not get a part in the show- RED cancelled their concert- and I did not write much of anything.  Yay!  It seemed as if nothing was going according to my plan.

Here's what I am realizing this morning....we got to spend some time with a neat couple in the town my husband had the job interview in.  We learned more about them and that they are the most gracious hosts you could ever want.  I did my best at the tryouts and have no control at the outcome.  It was simply not to be this time.  But I do have some wonderful friends that I have met through drama and just because I am not in the show doesn't mean I will lose them.  Some of my best pals in the world were with me when we found out the RED show was cancelled and they pooled their money together to buy me a necklace at the mall that has some symbols of my book on it.  (cross, skull, lock, a wing, and a heart)  They knew I was sooo disappointed and bummed out and showed their love for me by buying it. 

When I got home last night, my best friend in all the world was there to listen to me share my feelings about all the crap that happened this week.  I am so proud to say that next Saturday I will have been married to this friend for 23 years! 

I got on Facebook last night to post what had happened and to check out what the band was saying about the cancellation.  What it boiled down to was the venue was not safe.  It was in a rough neighborhood- which is not a complete deal breaker with me- but the fact that it was dirty and had human waste on the floor of the bathrooms and the sound system was shot....was a deal breaker.  I figured that RED did what was in the best interest of the fans.  Yes I was bummed- but in the grand scheme of things...this was for our safety. 

People from the venue had been posting things on their site that were not very nice at all..so I posted that I still loved RED (which I do)  and that we had talked to people that worked in the mall that had told us the venue was not great.  Another fan liked my status and sent me a private message.   After messaging each other I find out that RED is her ultimate favorite band, she has done the Acoustic Experience (met them on the tour bus) has kids, and is writing her first novel. 

Yes- you saw that right...not only had I met a fellow REDhead- I had (through the cancellation of the show) just "met" someone who I could relate to.  My fingers could not type fast enough to reply to her.  I'm not sure what will happen with this...but I do know that I have another person to call my friend- and she is in good company.

I have learned this week that friends are what it's all about.  I am finally beginning to get it through my thick skull that the best of friends will stick with you no matter what you are going through.  No matter what your attitude is or if you yell because you are trying to deal with the emotions, or if you feel like pulling away..they will hold your arms so that you can't run. 

Another friend gave me a coin that has a very Celtic looking cross on it on one side and the words on the other side read; "With God, all things are possible".  Someone had walked into the store she was working in and gave it to her.  She had just gotten finished reading my notes of FB about what a crummy week I had and Friday night she gave it to me at our Girls Night Out.  I was deeply moved by her gift, just as I was with the ladies buying the necklace last night, and my husband waiting up for me last night so I could vent my feelings to him.  Even through the mess of the cancelled RED show last night...I made a new friend. 

No one lives in a vacuum.  We all need people around us to encourage and support us.  Until this week I did not realize how important our friends are- not only in the great times, but in the dark times. 

It's funny- as I am typing this on our back deck, my raven pair is going crazy this morning.  They are calling to each other and flying and dive bombing and moving from tree to tree.  They are two sleek black encouragers sent by the Ultimate Friend to let me know to keep going with my writing.  To keep sitting in that seat day after day after day and write. 

So you see....they are all my Super Heroes!  I love you guys!

Do you have friends that are there not only in the good times, but the tough ones too?  Let them know today what they mean to you!  You won't be sorry you did!

Eating Ice Cream From the Bucket

Wow!  It's been awhile since I have blogged.  It's May and that is always a busy month for school teachers.  I had a big event at school that went great and Ian's 5th Birthday was Thursday, so things have been going full tilt! 

That's not always a good thing though.  Sometimes when you get going too fast and flitting from one event to the next- you lose focus.  For me, it all came crashing down on Friday.  I had a horrible headache and the day of writing that I thought I would have turned into a day of feeling sorry for myself.  I allowed my thoughts to travel down dark roads and take me places I should have said "No thank you" to. 

After all the fun and games on Friday- I turned right around and got right back into the thick of things and ended up doing things Sat. out of obligation.  So this morning as I sat in church at the keyboard practicing for worship....I realized that I have not been taking time to rest and recharge. 

When we got home from church and another activity.....I knew things had to change.  I told the kids that they could watch a movie and play in their rooms and that Rich and I were going to watch "Return of the King".  For me that movie helps me to "re-boot" my system and also gives me inspiration for my writing.  My hubby and I had lunch while we watched and even popped popcorn. 

After three and a half hours of movie (about 4 and a half after kids interruptions) we were ready to move to the next phase....Eating ice cream right out of the ice cream bucket!  The kids thought it was the coolest thing in the world.  I thought it was about time to switch things up a little.  As  watched my son dig his spoon into the huge mound of chocolate chip ice cream I realized that we all need to "break the rules" once in awhile- kick back and let things go for a few hours. 

I'm such a list maker and dragon slayer that I rarely ever allow myself to do nothing at all.  I need to remind myself from time to time that I need the nothingness so that my brain and body can recharge and I can be a better wife, mother, teacher and writer. 

So have you had a chance to recharge?  Do you need to grab some spoons and eat some ice cream out of the bucket today?  I'm so glad that I did! 

Finding the Perspective in Easter

I am not a stranger to writing from a certain perspective.  I have written stories from different points of view for a very long time.  I remember writing the Easter story from different points of view- Mary, John, a Roman soldier, etc.  I tried to imagine what it might have been like to be there.  To be that close to Jesus and the cross.  I actually thought I had done a pretty decent job...that is until Friday night.

I play the keyboard for the worship band at my church and had been asked to play for the Good Friday service.  I didn't mind in the least and knew going into it that the Crucifixion would take place on the stage where the band was set up.  At practice on Monday, it was a little uncomfortable being inches away from Jesus lying on the cross and the soldiers hammering the wood of the cross.  I tried to ignore the cries of the man that was portraying Jesus as they did this.  He did not have the fake blood smeared over his body and it still made me want to get out of there.

Friday night, things seemed rushed and the band did not even get to do a sound check together.  I usually don't get too nervous before I play, but that night I was going crazy inside!  We had an important service to do and I felt we might not be ready- and our worship leader was losing his voice.  We gathered in the back room to pray and our leader prayed this awesome prayer all about how the focus was on Jesus not us or what we did.  It was a good reminder that it was all about Him and not about me. 

As the team took to the stage, I found my heart beat was more regular and I felt ready for the service.  Everything seemed to go off well and I was preparing to play "How He Loves Us" by the David Crowder Band.  It is one of my all time favorite songs and I love to play and sing it.  But Friday night as Jesus was led to the stage with just a loincloth and a crown of thorns, bloody lines across his back and blood dripping down his face; I had a whole new perspective of the love that God has for me. 

As I was singing the words:  "And we are His portion and He is our prize, Drawn by redemption by the grace in His eyes, If His grace is an ocean, we're all sinking.  How He loves us, oh how He loves us, ....."  I was suddenly and violently reminded of God's complete and total love for me.  I always say that I am not a rainbow and puppy happy person, but I think my view of Jesus's sacrifice might have been. 

What I witnessed happening right in front of me was powerful-yes.  But as I was listening to the hammer hit a large metal plate and Jesus screaming I realized that the cross experience was loud and messy and horrifying and bloody.  I was looking at love in its most organic.  Someone loved me enough to take this kind of torture to atone for MY sins.  Not his.  He didn't do anything! 

There was just something about having Jesus hanging on the cross just inches from me that has changed my viewpoint of exactly what He did on the cross that day.  It has changed from merely being a detached observer to being right there. 

It was a view point I had never had.  Until Friday night. 

It made me think of my view points of my characters in my novel and for some reason and I know that the experience I had Friday will help with my character's perspective.

I challenge you to look at things from a different view point today.  You never know what you may discover.  Happy Easter!

Signs Along the Way

I have to say that the last two weeks have been very surreal for me.  Just about every day I have run into a Bible verse, a person, a song, or something that has given me great encouragement as far as the novel is concerned. 

Two weeks ago, I met Liz Curtis Higgs and she gave me great writing tips and she was just a wonderful lady to meet!  Saturday I got to meet the Warden, whose writing is about as different from Liz's as can be- but when she talked to me, she also offered words of wisdom although a couple of those words would have to be censored!  She told me to follow what my characters are telling me and write what I see and not to give a @#$% what other people think!  And I needed to hear that- being the people pleaser that I am.  It is funny that in the space of 10 days I had a chance to meet two authors.  I could only think of two other authors I have ever met in person in my whole life!

So something is up.  Today, when our special speaker that I thought was going to talk about Dinosaurs and Noah's Ark began to talk about dragons......well I knew it was yet another sign for me to keep going with this book idea.  ( He had pictures of dragons on cave walls, in art, in sculpture.... it was crazy!)  After that, I should have not been the least bit surprised when the speaker flashed a bible verse that had a raven in it on the screen.  (I mean, if he was going to talk about two animals in my book those would be the two..) 

I've tried a new brainstorming idea too.  I have such a hard time visualizing things and thought that I would try index cards and put them on the kitchen table and when I am talking to Rich about concepts or characters, I could move the cards around and that would help.  Turns out, not only does it help, but it has broken some things wide open!  I am so glad I finally figured out what works for me.

I have been paying attention- the signs are everywhere!  I told Rich last night that I feel a little like Elijah when God provided food for him in the wilderness.  I keep getting what I need every day. 

Oh- did I happen to mention that ravens brought Elijah the food?  Yes- I said ravens. 

Are you paying attention to the signs all around YOU?  I encourage you to look for them and see how you are being provided for and sustained.  It just may be enough to get you through another day.  Your signs may not be ravens or dragons or authors; but you will know them when you see them. 

Open your eyes!