I realized that it's been a year since I've blogged about writing. So to update:
I finished my first YA Fantasy book in November of last year and began the edits in January.
I didn't get too far with the edits and ended up writing bits and pieces of other parts of the series or character sketches, or pretty much anything that would keep me away from editing OR writing the second book in the series.
I had surgery in April- which gave me some much needed rest and time to begin to dream about my story again.
I made the commitment to do the National Novel Writing Month, this month and so far have almost 30,000 words toward a goal of 50,000.
One big thing that doing NaNoWiMo is that my butt in in my chair every day. I am down in my Dungeon (writing room) each day and it is slowly becoming a habit to go down early each morning at 5am and pound out the word count.
It doesn't sound glamorous and it's NOT. But it is assisting me in getting back to my story and to not only dream, but to do the work that makes the dream real.
One of the cool parts of writing so much in a month is that I have fallen in love with my series again and am excited to find out more by writing it down. I'm also stoked to see some of my fellow writers get a high word count and see their goals become reality too!
I need to get back at it down in my Dungeon, but I wanted to update all of you who haven't heard from me in a year. I promise that in December I will be back with how NaNo ended up and how many words I really wrote.
Until then- dream big and then work hard to make them come true!
Friday, November 22, 2013
Tuesday, October 9, 2012
Getting Near "The End"
It's been months since I have taken the time to update my blog. With the adventure of Home school in full swing, and trying to finish my first novel- I haven't had much time to blog about everything.
After four years of world building, character building and creating all the twists and turns of my high adventure fantasy story, it looks like the first book in the series is almost finished.
I know some of you will say, "It's about time!" And I agree with that. When I tell people I am working on my first book, what I have actually been doing is creating an entirely unique- yet familiar place to call my own. It has taken time to get to know my characters and the places they live. I have imagined each dragon and know their color, personality, and who their Rider is. My three main characters and several minor characters I know so well that I could fill out detailed questionnaires on each one. I have play lists on my ipod for things like "Dragons" "Afton- Warrior Girl" and "Fighting Music".
As I near the end of this first book- which is still not officially titled yet- I realize that I am going to be one of an elite group of writers.....one that actually finishes the book.
It's a big deal.
Putting "The End" at the bottom of my manuscript means:
1- That my dad was right. He always knew I could write a book (he always said I would write several) and it was the one thing he made me promise him I would do. He's been gone for 13 years and I am dedicating this first book to him. After all, he heard the dragon wings long before I did.
2- That my first book is finished and I can begin the second one. I cannot leave my characters where they are and that means I need to get going on the next one!
3- That I took a risk and it paid off. Once I realized I wanted to do this- I began telling people about it, blogging about it, etc. All of you who ask me how things are going have kept me accountable and motivated. I wouldn't be here without you.
4- Tosca Lee, one of the authors at "The Ragged Edge" told us to finish the book. Finishing the book means I did what I promised I would do that last day of the writer's conference.
5- I will enter the world of editing! Yay.
6- My prayers for an editor, agent, and publisher will become more frequent and I will have to be very focused on this part of my goal.
7- I will be getting a raven tattoo. The book wouldn't be what it is without my raven, Remi.
It's amazing that two short words carry so much meaning for an author. But "The End" means so much more than those two words.
Don't look for many blogs in the next few weeks. My goal is to finish the book by the end of this month. I am working hard to make that happen. I will happily share when I finally type "The End", because as I mentioned earlier, I have not made this journey alone.
The video I have chosen today is "It's Time" by Imagine Dragons. The imagery of the video is like my journey with this book. I feel as if I have trekked across a wasteland of stuff to get to the 'seed' of the story. Once I was brave enough to plant it in the ground; it blew me away and I will NEVER be the same! And that's a good thing.
As I get near "The End" I realize that it might be cliche, but this end is really just the beginning of a new chapter of my story.
And how cool is that?
After four years of world building, character building and creating all the twists and turns of my high adventure fantasy story, it looks like the first book in the series is almost finished.
I know some of you will say, "It's about time!" And I agree with that. When I tell people I am working on my first book, what I have actually been doing is creating an entirely unique- yet familiar place to call my own. It has taken time to get to know my characters and the places they live. I have imagined each dragon and know their color, personality, and who their Rider is. My three main characters and several minor characters I know so well that I could fill out detailed questionnaires on each one. I have play lists on my ipod for things like "Dragons" "Afton- Warrior Girl" and "Fighting Music".
As I near the end of this first book- which is still not officially titled yet- I realize that I am going to be one of an elite group of writers.....one that actually finishes the book.
It's a big deal.
Putting "The End" at the bottom of my manuscript means:
1- That my dad was right. He always knew I could write a book (he always said I would write several) and it was the one thing he made me promise him I would do. He's been gone for 13 years and I am dedicating this first book to him. After all, he heard the dragon wings long before I did.
2- That my first book is finished and I can begin the second one. I cannot leave my characters where they are and that means I need to get going on the next one!
3- That I took a risk and it paid off. Once I realized I wanted to do this- I began telling people about it, blogging about it, etc. All of you who ask me how things are going have kept me accountable and motivated. I wouldn't be here without you.
4- Tosca Lee, one of the authors at "The Ragged Edge" told us to finish the book. Finishing the book means I did what I promised I would do that last day of the writer's conference.
5- I will enter the world of editing! Yay.
6- My prayers for an editor, agent, and publisher will become more frequent and I will have to be very focused on this part of my goal.
7- I will be getting a raven tattoo. The book wouldn't be what it is without my raven, Remi.
It's amazing that two short words carry so much meaning for an author. But "The End" means so much more than those two words.
Don't look for many blogs in the next few weeks. My goal is to finish the book by the end of this month. I am working hard to make that happen. I will happily share when I finally type "The End", because as I mentioned earlier, I have not made this journey alone.
The video I have chosen today is "It's Time" by Imagine Dragons. The imagery of the video is like my journey with this book. I feel as if I have trekked across a wasteland of stuff to get to the 'seed' of the story. Once I was brave enough to plant it in the ground; it blew me away and I will NEVER be the same! And that's a good thing.
As I get near "The End" I realize that it might be cliche, but this end is really just the beginning of a new chapter of my story.
And how cool is that?
Thursday, July 5, 2012
Life With Autism: It's All About Love
My daughter was diagnosed with a form of autism a few months ago. She has struggled with things her entire life and once we connected the dots we saw a specialist and she was tested. We are slowly learning how to help her so that she can help herself.
It isn't easy.
K has sensory issues which means that something like putting on jeans is a battle. She doesn't like the feel of the button or the jean material. She talks very loud but hates loud sounds. She thrives on schedules and does much better when she knows what is happening next. When something bothers her, she tends to yell or scream which only makes things worse. If someone tries to deal with her and gets angry too, it continues to make it almost unbearable.
It breaks my heart when I see her struggling. When I look into her eyes and see the panic and try to reach her so she knows she is safe. She is okay.
I know that 10 year-olds don't pitch the kind of fits that she does, and she knows it too. And she tries. I watch her as she attempts to not have a meltdown. I watch her as she does everything in her power to gain the upper hand over the emotions.
I see what others don't.
My parenting skills have come into question more times than I can ever begin to count. People must think I am deaf or blind to not hear the comments or to see the eye-rolls. But my hearing is great and so is my sight. Believe me, I have questioned my parenting skills. Probably more than most because my child is not an introvert and she is not quiet. My daughter does not go unnoticed. Pair that with the fact that she is taller than most 13 year olds and K is the perfect target for other parents.
And that makes me mad. PDD-NOS is not an easy diagnosis. It's basically a form of Autism that may or may not be like other forms. Some kids have a few of the symptoms or just a couple that are very pronounced. K's is she needs structure and she tends to act out aggressively when she feels "out of control". She also struggles with anxiety- which does not help.
But she looks normal. So people become uncomfortable when this beautiful girl suddenly screams and cries and throws a fit like a toddler. Usually we can trace it to things like sudden change, someone yelling at her, fatigue or big events. We know that. But others may not.
I have to mention the small group of friends that our family has. They have been so wonderful and have helped encourage our family as we journey through this. We have taught them what we have learned and try to communicate how best to help K. They don't judge or eye-roll or get angry when K screams and flails around. They help her with her coping skills and are quick with encouragement and slow to criticize. They love her.
And that's the bottom line. Love.
I just felt today that I needed to share my struggle with my daughter's PDD-NOS and how it affects my family. How we are doing everything under the sun to help K. How with lots of love and patience she will learn to not only live with this disorder, but to live a full, vibrant life.
"Love never gives up. Love cares for others more than for self." 1 Cor. 13:5 (Message)
"Be brave, be strong. Don't give up." Psalm 31:24 a (Message)
I know there are those of you who are struggling with issues that your children have. My best advice to you is: Don't give up.
Be strong even when others criticize.
Love them like crazy!
I end this post with the song that always reminds me of my love for my darling daughter. Billy Joel's Lullaby.....
It isn't easy.
K has sensory issues which means that something like putting on jeans is a battle. She doesn't like the feel of the button or the jean material. She talks very loud but hates loud sounds. She thrives on schedules and does much better when she knows what is happening next. When something bothers her, she tends to yell or scream which only makes things worse. If someone tries to deal with her and gets angry too, it continues to make it almost unbearable.
It breaks my heart when I see her struggling. When I look into her eyes and see the panic and try to reach her so she knows she is safe. She is okay.
I know that 10 year-olds don't pitch the kind of fits that she does, and she knows it too. And she tries. I watch her as she attempts to not have a meltdown. I watch her as she does everything in her power to gain the upper hand over the emotions.
I see what others don't.
My parenting skills have come into question more times than I can ever begin to count. People must think I am deaf or blind to not hear the comments or to see the eye-rolls. But my hearing is great and so is my sight. Believe me, I have questioned my parenting skills. Probably more than most because my child is not an introvert and she is not quiet. My daughter does not go unnoticed. Pair that with the fact that she is taller than most 13 year olds and K is the perfect target for other parents.
And that makes me mad. PDD-NOS is not an easy diagnosis. It's basically a form of Autism that may or may not be like other forms. Some kids have a few of the symptoms or just a couple that are very pronounced. K's is she needs structure and she tends to act out aggressively when she feels "out of control". She also struggles with anxiety- which does not help.
But she looks normal. So people become uncomfortable when this beautiful girl suddenly screams and cries and throws a fit like a toddler. Usually we can trace it to things like sudden change, someone yelling at her, fatigue or big events. We know that. But others may not.
I have to mention the small group of friends that our family has. They have been so wonderful and have helped encourage our family as we journey through this. We have taught them what we have learned and try to communicate how best to help K. They don't judge or eye-roll or get angry when K screams and flails around. They help her with her coping skills and are quick with encouragement and slow to criticize. They love her.
And that's the bottom line. Love.
I just felt today that I needed to share my struggle with my daughter's PDD-NOS and how it affects my family. How we are doing everything under the sun to help K. How with lots of love and patience she will learn to not only live with this disorder, but to live a full, vibrant life.
"Love never gives up. Love cares for others more than for self." 1 Cor. 13:5 (Message)
"Be brave, be strong. Don't give up." Psalm 31:24 a (Message)
I know there are those of you who are struggling with issues that your children have. My best advice to you is: Don't give up.
Be strong even when others criticize.
Love them like crazy!
I end this post with the song that always reminds me of my love for my darling daughter. Billy Joel's Lullaby.....
Sunday, July 1, 2012
The Battle With Cancer
Cancer. It's a word that hits close to home for many of you. Either you, your child, your parents, a close friend or a relative has battled this disease. I walked with my dad through his battle with bone cancer, my mom has dealt with breast cancer and I've had experience with skin cancer.
So why am I talking about cancer today?
Because there is a man at our church that was just diagnosed with cancer and he starts some pretty hefty chemo and radiation treatments tomorrow. I don't want to use my blog to talk about what type of cancer or what stage because I don't want to give much time to this horrible disease.
I do want to talk about this guy and the beginning of his journey. Tom ( not his real name) hasn't been diagnosed for very long. Our church family has only known about it for a few weeks. What has blown me away is the outpouring of love and support for Tom. He always has a kind word for just about everyone and around our house, he is simply known as Game Dude since he and his wife are in charge of games for our AWANA program and VBS. Tom is a good guy.
Cancer doesn't care what kind of a man Tom is. Cancer doesn't care if its presence is unwelcome in his life. It doesn't care if it kills. It doesn't care.
But people do. I have observed many of the people in our church reach out to Tom and his family with encouraging words, prayers, gifts, and hugs. I know in the days and weeks to come they will continue to be a support to Tom as he travels down this unknown path.
Tom was in church this morning and I think the enormity of the treatments that will begin tomorrow were weighing heavy on his heart. I was playing the keyboard for worship team this morning and when I'm onstage- I get to see things most of the congregation doesn't get to. He came up front and sat beside our pastor. They sat side by side and our pastor hugged him and prayed for him. Next, our youth pastor came and sat on Tom's other side and put his arm around him. There were tears on their faces and on most of the worship team as we watched this unfold.
When one of the teens that means alot to Tom came up and sat by him- that was when I lost it. I wished the rest of the church could have seen the love and pain on each of their faces. Somehow I kept playing and when the song ended we had an opportunity to gather around Tom and pray for him. Each person spoke out their prayers as they put a hand on him or reached out to him. It was a very intense and humbling moment.
When we played the last song in the service, Tom was still in the front row with his hand raised in the air, worshipping God. Tom could question God and ask "Why me?" but instead chose to give praise to the One who created everything.
This warrior of a man has quite the battle in front of him. The awsome thing is that he does not go into this battle by himself. He has the Ultimate Warrior going ahead of him and the support of all of his church warriors and friends.
I know that Tom wants this battle with cancer to reach those that may not know about the God he serves. I know that he wants this journey to be a testimony of what it means when you take that first step and share your life with others.
The question that is on my mind today is this. Who do you know that is battling cancer? Who could use a word of encouragement, a card, or a hot meal? How can you make a difference in the life of someone else? Who could you pray for today?
I usually have a song to sum up my posts and the one I chose for this was "Frontline" by Pillar. It's such a great battle song and it never fails to encourage me. So for Tom and all you cancer warriors out there- raise your fists and let me hear your battle cry!
Cancer? Watch out......
So why am I talking about cancer today?
Because there is a man at our church that was just diagnosed with cancer and he starts some pretty hefty chemo and radiation treatments tomorrow. I don't want to use my blog to talk about what type of cancer or what stage because I don't want to give much time to this horrible disease.
I do want to talk about this guy and the beginning of his journey. Tom ( not his real name) hasn't been diagnosed for very long. Our church family has only known about it for a few weeks. What has blown me away is the outpouring of love and support for Tom. He always has a kind word for just about everyone and around our house, he is simply known as Game Dude since he and his wife are in charge of games for our AWANA program and VBS. Tom is a good guy.
Cancer doesn't care what kind of a man Tom is. Cancer doesn't care if its presence is unwelcome in his life. It doesn't care if it kills. It doesn't care.
But people do. I have observed many of the people in our church reach out to Tom and his family with encouraging words, prayers, gifts, and hugs. I know in the days and weeks to come they will continue to be a support to Tom as he travels down this unknown path.
Tom was in church this morning and I think the enormity of the treatments that will begin tomorrow were weighing heavy on his heart. I was playing the keyboard for worship team this morning and when I'm onstage- I get to see things most of the congregation doesn't get to. He came up front and sat beside our pastor. They sat side by side and our pastor hugged him and prayed for him. Next, our youth pastor came and sat on Tom's other side and put his arm around him. There were tears on their faces and on most of the worship team as we watched this unfold.
When one of the teens that means alot to Tom came up and sat by him- that was when I lost it. I wished the rest of the church could have seen the love and pain on each of their faces. Somehow I kept playing and when the song ended we had an opportunity to gather around Tom and pray for him. Each person spoke out their prayers as they put a hand on him or reached out to him. It was a very intense and humbling moment.
When we played the last song in the service, Tom was still in the front row with his hand raised in the air, worshipping God. Tom could question God and ask "Why me?" but instead chose to give praise to the One who created everything.
This warrior of a man has quite the battle in front of him. The awsome thing is that he does not go into this battle by himself. He has the Ultimate Warrior going ahead of him and the support of all of his church warriors and friends.
I know that Tom wants this battle with cancer to reach those that may not know about the God he serves. I know that he wants this journey to be a testimony of what it means when you take that first step and share your life with others.
The question that is on my mind today is this. Who do you know that is battling cancer? Who could use a word of encouragement, a card, or a hot meal? How can you make a difference in the life of someone else? Who could you pray for today?
I usually have a song to sum up my posts and the one I chose for this was "Frontline" by Pillar. It's such a great battle song and it never fails to encourage me. So for Tom and all you cancer warriors out there- raise your fists and let me hear your battle cry!
Cancer? Watch out......
Wednesday, June 27, 2012
Lessons From a Broken Arm Part 1
My son, Ian, broke his left arm last Thursday night on our swingset. It's the first broken anything either of my kids have had. Honestly, those of you who know my son- it's a miracle that he didn't break a bone before now. In his six years of life he has had many near misses so I knew that sooner or later he would break something.
I could tell by his scream that something was wrong. He usually doesn't cry for a long time and this scream sounded different. After we got him in the house and looked at the arm, we knew that the big lump that was near his wrist was not supposed to be there. I had some of my friends that had come over for a Girls Night Out and they all had suggestions for what we should do.
I knew what I had to do. My son was hurt and he needed help. I grabbed my keys and purse and Ian's blankie and his stuffed dog Bandit. Rich brought a few other things and carried Ian to the van. We drove 20 miles to the ER with Ian crying the whole way. I tried not to speed, but I think I might have gone a mile or two over the limit. My son was in pain and I wanted him to find relief.
Once we got to the ER, time seemed to stand still. Other than one or two people, no one was going back. We were all in the waiting room. I knew the doctors were behind the heavy double doors- but we had to wait.
Ian did his best to be brave. He asked "How much longer?" every few minutes and when the pain was bad he cried. The first hour was bearable. The next two were hell. Ian cried and cried and both Rich and I did what we could to help him, but we weren't doctors. We told him that he would feel better once he saw a doctor.
There was a moment when Ian looked at me with his big brown puppy-dog eyes and said, "It hurts Mommy! Please take it away."
That's a killer. In that moment I knew what it was to want to take your child's pain away. I would've changed places with him in a heartbeat if I could. But it was his arm that was broken, not mine.
Not that I didn't try to help. Both Rich and I talked to the RN at the desk and kept asking how much longer it would be. Three hours is a long time for an adult to wait- to a kid it would seem like days. Finally they called his name and in the next hour we found out his radius was broken and he would have to have a cast when the swelling went down.
Again- I wanted to take my son's place. I didn't want him to have to go through the pain and discomfort.
I wonder if that's how God feels when he sees us in pain and we have to wait?
He has us in a place where we can get healed- but it takes time.
I wonder what He sees in our faces when we go through "broken arm" moments. Those moments where we try not to cry, but wonder "How much longer?" Those trials that we think we can't hang on one more moment...
As we were heading for the van, Ian said, "I was really brave, wasn't I?" Rich and I told him he was VERY brave. Ian smiled and said, "I got through that hurting time cuz God and you guys helped me." and he gave me a thumbs up.
It was then that I realized that my son had learned a lesson that he wouldn't have learned otherwise.....
I have more musings on broken arms- but I will save that for tomorrow.
I could tell by his scream that something was wrong. He usually doesn't cry for a long time and this scream sounded different. After we got him in the house and looked at the arm, we knew that the big lump that was near his wrist was not supposed to be there. I had some of my friends that had come over for a Girls Night Out and they all had suggestions for what we should do.
I knew what I had to do. My son was hurt and he needed help. I grabbed my keys and purse and Ian's blankie and his stuffed dog Bandit. Rich brought a few other things and carried Ian to the van. We drove 20 miles to the ER with Ian crying the whole way. I tried not to speed, but I think I might have gone a mile or two over the limit. My son was in pain and I wanted him to find relief.
Once we got to the ER, time seemed to stand still. Other than one or two people, no one was going back. We were all in the waiting room. I knew the doctors were behind the heavy double doors- but we had to wait.
Ian did his best to be brave. He asked "How much longer?" every few minutes and when the pain was bad he cried. The first hour was bearable. The next two were hell. Ian cried and cried and both Rich and I did what we could to help him, but we weren't doctors. We told him that he would feel better once he saw a doctor.
There was a moment when Ian looked at me with his big brown puppy-dog eyes and said, "It hurts Mommy! Please take it away."
That's a killer. In that moment I knew what it was to want to take your child's pain away. I would've changed places with him in a heartbeat if I could. But it was his arm that was broken, not mine.
Not that I didn't try to help. Both Rich and I talked to the RN at the desk and kept asking how much longer it would be. Three hours is a long time for an adult to wait- to a kid it would seem like days. Finally they called his name and in the next hour we found out his radius was broken and he would have to have a cast when the swelling went down.
Again- I wanted to take my son's place. I didn't want him to have to go through the pain and discomfort.
I wonder if that's how God feels when he sees us in pain and we have to wait?
He has us in a place where we can get healed- but it takes time.
I wonder what He sees in our faces when we go through "broken arm" moments. Those moments where we try not to cry, but wonder "How much longer?" Those trials that we think we can't hang on one more moment...
As we were heading for the van, Ian said, "I was really brave, wasn't I?" Rich and I told him he was VERY brave. Ian smiled and said, "I got through that hurting time cuz God and you guys helped me." and he gave me a thumbs up.
It was then that I realized that my son had learned a lesson that he wouldn't have learned otherwise.....
I have more musings on broken arms- but I will save that for tomorrow.
Tuesday, June 26, 2012
Man Soap
Ok- so most of the time my posts are informational or emotional or whatever. But today I must discuss a topic of utmost importance......man soap.
Yes- you read that correctly- man soap.
My son, Ian, is six and got a cast put on his broken arm today. He was very brave and did a great job of staying still while the doctor put the blue waterproof cast on his arm. On the way home, his sister wanted to stop at the mall so she could go to Bath and Bodyworks so she could get some shower gel and lip gloss.
Ian was NOT impressed. At all. He wandered around after me like a grouchy puppy, telling me how much he did not want to be in a girl store. Until he saw the man soap.
He ran over to the display and yelled, "I FOUND THE MAN SOAP!" I had no idea what he was screaming about until he pointed at the brown bottle that said "Twilight Woods- For Men". He jumped up and down, "Look Mommy! It's the vampire man soap that Daddy uses!"
I tried not to laugh as I explained that it was soap for men- Daddy did use the Twilight soap but it was not vampire soap. He said he wanted to smell some of the other man soaps so he did and he loved the Ocean scent. He proceeded to tell me that he had been so brave getting his cast on and could I please buy him some Man Soap because he had been strong like a man?
I looked into those big brown eyes- and I lost it! I began to laugh until my sides hurt. I honestly tried not to- but it was so funny to me! Ian laughed too, but asked again if he could have some man soap.
It just so happens that the man soap was $3 a bottle- so Ian got two Ocean man soaps.
He was so proud as he put his soap on the counter. "This is my MAN SOAP!" He told the clerk.
She asked him why he called it that. "Because my Daddy uses it so he can smell like a man!"
Of course he had to have his own bag for his man soap, which he carried out through the store and into the mall. He went on and on about his man soap and when I made a quick call to a friend on my cell phone he reminded me to tell her about his blue man soap.
He told everyone at Steak and Shake about his man soap. And his best friend Liam.
Now Liam wants man soap but because he has skin issues- he can't use it.
When Rich came home from work, Ian told him all about the man soap.
Rich laughed, but I think it's one of those things where you had to be there to really appreciate the hilarity of it all.
Guess who used his Ocean scented man soap in his bath tonight?
Come on...I'll bet you'll never guess......
Yes- you read that correctly- man soap.
My son, Ian, is six and got a cast put on his broken arm today. He was very brave and did a great job of staying still while the doctor put the blue waterproof cast on his arm. On the way home, his sister wanted to stop at the mall so she could go to Bath and Bodyworks so she could get some shower gel and lip gloss.
Ian was NOT impressed. At all. He wandered around after me like a grouchy puppy, telling me how much he did not want to be in a girl store. Until he saw the man soap.
He ran over to the display and yelled, "I FOUND THE MAN SOAP!" I had no idea what he was screaming about until he pointed at the brown bottle that said "Twilight Woods- For Men". He jumped up and down, "Look Mommy! It's the vampire man soap that Daddy uses!"
I tried not to laugh as I explained that it was soap for men- Daddy did use the Twilight soap but it was not vampire soap. He said he wanted to smell some of the other man soaps so he did and he loved the Ocean scent. He proceeded to tell me that he had been so brave getting his cast on and could I please buy him some Man Soap because he had been strong like a man?
I looked into those big brown eyes- and I lost it! I began to laugh until my sides hurt. I honestly tried not to- but it was so funny to me! Ian laughed too, but asked again if he could have some man soap.
It just so happens that the man soap was $3 a bottle- so Ian got two Ocean man soaps.
He was so proud as he put his soap on the counter. "This is my MAN SOAP!" He told the clerk.
She asked him why he called it that. "Because my Daddy uses it so he can smell like a man!"
Of course he had to have his own bag for his man soap, which he carried out through the store and into the mall. He went on and on about his man soap and when I made a quick call to a friend on my cell phone he reminded me to tell her about his blue man soap.
He told everyone at Steak and Shake about his man soap. And his best friend Liam.
Now Liam wants man soap but because he has skin issues- he can't use it.
When Rich came home from work, Ian told him all about the man soap.
Rich laughed, but I think it's one of those things where you had to be there to really appreciate the hilarity of it all.
Guess who used his Ocean scented man soap in his bath tonight?
Come on...I'll bet you'll never guess......
Thursday, June 21, 2012
Dangerous Questions
Monday I had gotten word that one of my students from last year lost his dad. At 32, he had a massive heart attack, wrecked the car he was in and it went up in flames. When I heard the news I thought it had to be a joke. It had to be.
But with just a few keystrokes I was looking at an obituary that confirmed what I had been told.
Later, I had many more phone calls telling me of the sad news. After trying to reach the student (I'll call him John- not his real name) I was able to find a phone number where he could be reached. "Mrs. P? I have to tell you something, my dad is dead." I told him I knew that and prayed that somehow I would have the words to comfort him. He told me that he wanted me to be at the funeral the next day and I said that I was already planning on it. We hung up and I went to bed with my head full of questions.
Why did John's dad have to die?
Why did this have to happen?
Why is John an orphan?
Yes- John is now an orphan. His mother died a few years ago and he lives with his grandmother, who is wonderful lady and is doing a great job of taking care of John. But at 13, John no longer has either of his parents.
God is not a stranger to my hard questions and He was barraged with them Monday night and Tuesday morning. Notice that all of my questions begin with the word 'why'. I am always wanting to know why something happens or why someone does something. Maybe it's the writer in me that wants to take a situation and resolve it. I want answers.
I didn't know exactly what I was going to say to John Tuesday morning, so I got up early and decided to write him a note. Those of you that know me will not be surprised in the least to learn that my note turned into a 3 page letter- front and back. The words came pouring out of me and I went with it. I'm a writer- it's what I do.
One of the things that I told him was that God was bigger than all of our questions. That He can handle the whys, and the anger and the hurt. That rather than seeking out other things, seek Him.
How do I know that? Beacuse I have asked the dangerous questions. The ones that might seem irreverent. The ones that some people wouldn't ask God becasue they think He might not like to hear them. I have screamed at God and demanded to know why. I have cried out to Him when there were no words I could say.
RED has a song called "Let it Burn" that asks some of the same dangerous questions that I have asked.
"Where were you when our hearts were bleeding?"
"How long will you hide your face?"
"Is your world just a broken promise?"
"Is your love just a drop of rain?"
"Are you still there?"
"Will you just let it all burn down?"
I believe that God loves it when we come to Him with the whys and the hows and the screams. He can take the dangerous questions.
Psalm 46:1-2 (Message) "God is a safe place to hide, ready to help when we need him. We stand fearless at the cliff-edge of doom, courageous in seastorm and earthquake. Before the rush and roar of oceans, the tremors that shift mountains."
My take on this is that if we are going to God with questions- we are still going to God. He is our safe place. I figure the God of the universe can handle my questions. Then no matter what happens, He gives us His strength to stand on the cliff of doom and be courageous in an earthquake.
I give God my questions and He gives me His Peace.
Gotta love that trade-off!
I had His Peace as I walked into that funeral home where John was sitting and waiting for the funeral to start. He gave me Peace as I was able to pray with John and hug him and give him a small gift. He was there through the service and afterwards. I know He was there when John watched the casket being lowered into the ground and I know He is going to give His Peace to John in the days and weeks to come.
And when John asks the dangerous questions- God will be there. Patient. Loving. Understanding.
I told John in my letter that God is the Father to the Fatherless, because I lost my own father. Becasue I have asked the hard questions. Because I know the truth in that. And John knows that because he heard me talk about it a thousand times last year in class. He knows.
My prayer for John and for anyone else who has a thousand "whys" is that you bring them to God. Even if they are screamed, or cried or whispered. Know that the God that created everything will hear your desperate whys. And in exchange for your questions, He will give you His Peace.
"Call me and I'll answer, be at your side in bad times." Psalm 91:15 (Message)
Here is a video of RED's "Let It Burn". May it inspire you to ask the dangerous questions....
But with just a few keystrokes I was looking at an obituary that confirmed what I had been told.
Later, I had many more phone calls telling me of the sad news. After trying to reach the student (I'll call him John- not his real name) I was able to find a phone number where he could be reached. "Mrs. P? I have to tell you something, my dad is dead." I told him I knew that and prayed that somehow I would have the words to comfort him. He told me that he wanted me to be at the funeral the next day and I said that I was already planning on it. We hung up and I went to bed with my head full of questions.
Why did John's dad have to die?
Why did this have to happen?
Why is John an orphan?
Yes- John is now an orphan. His mother died a few years ago and he lives with his grandmother, who is wonderful lady and is doing a great job of taking care of John. But at 13, John no longer has either of his parents.
God is not a stranger to my hard questions and He was barraged with them Monday night and Tuesday morning. Notice that all of my questions begin with the word 'why'. I am always wanting to know why something happens or why someone does something. Maybe it's the writer in me that wants to take a situation and resolve it. I want answers.
I didn't know exactly what I was going to say to John Tuesday morning, so I got up early and decided to write him a note. Those of you that know me will not be surprised in the least to learn that my note turned into a 3 page letter- front and back. The words came pouring out of me and I went with it. I'm a writer- it's what I do.
One of the things that I told him was that God was bigger than all of our questions. That He can handle the whys, and the anger and the hurt. That rather than seeking out other things, seek Him.
How do I know that? Beacuse I have asked the dangerous questions. The ones that might seem irreverent. The ones that some people wouldn't ask God becasue they think He might not like to hear them. I have screamed at God and demanded to know why. I have cried out to Him when there were no words I could say.
RED has a song called "Let it Burn" that asks some of the same dangerous questions that I have asked.
"Where were you when our hearts were bleeding?"
"How long will you hide your face?"
"Is your world just a broken promise?"
"Is your love just a drop of rain?"
"Are you still there?"
"Will you just let it all burn down?"
I believe that God loves it when we come to Him with the whys and the hows and the screams. He can take the dangerous questions.
Psalm 46:1-2 (Message) "God is a safe place to hide, ready to help when we need him. We stand fearless at the cliff-edge of doom, courageous in seastorm and earthquake. Before the rush and roar of oceans, the tremors that shift mountains."
My take on this is that if we are going to God with questions- we are still going to God. He is our safe place. I figure the God of the universe can handle my questions. Then no matter what happens, He gives us His strength to stand on the cliff of doom and be courageous in an earthquake.
I give God my questions and He gives me His Peace.
Gotta love that trade-off!
I had His Peace as I walked into that funeral home where John was sitting and waiting for the funeral to start. He gave me Peace as I was able to pray with John and hug him and give him a small gift. He was there through the service and afterwards. I know He was there when John watched the casket being lowered into the ground and I know He is going to give His Peace to John in the days and weeks to come.
And when John asks the dangerous questions- God will be there. Patient. Loving. Understanding.
I told John in my letter that God is the Father to the Fatherless, because I lost my own father. Becasue I have asked the hard questions. Because I know the truth in that. And John knows that because he heard me talk about it a thousand times last year in class. He knows.
My prayer for John and for anyone else who has a thousand "whys" is that you bring them to God. Even if they are screamed, or cried or whispered. Know that the God that created everything will hear your desperate whys. And in exchange for your questions, He will give you His Peace.
"Call me and I'll answer, be at your side in bad times." Psalm 91:15 (Message)
Here is a video of RED's "Let It Burn". May it inspire you to ask the dangerous questions....
Thursday, June 14, 2012
Warrior Spirit
This blog has been silent for almost nine months. No- I did not fall off the face of the earth, but on some days it felt like it. I am not going to use my blog to bash anyone or go into great detail about those nine months, but let's just say it was not a fun situation.
I have to say that I completed what I had to and am now free of this situation. I'm still in the recovery process but am feeling more like "me" every day. So how did I get through this tough time?
It's nothing earth shattering really. I prayed a lot. I had friends that listened to me "vent". I had a very supportive husband. I looked for quotes and Bible verses that encouraged me and I had my music. I don't know if I would have gotten through without all of those things.
There were days that I didn't know if I was going to get through things and I would find some song or verse or poem and take strength from that. Lots of songs by Thousand Foot Krutch, RED, Fireflight, and Nine Lashes spoke to what I was feeling and gave me the courage I needed.
Then there is the book. I hadn't typed one word on the actual manuscript since last year. The miraculous thing is that I DID do a lot of what I call "spinning"- taking notes on parts of the story that come after the first book. Ideas would come to me in the middle of some of my hardest days. These little bits of encouragement have blossomed into almost 100 pages of notes on my series. I have the ending pretty much plotted out and know where my heroine is going. For that I am thankful.
I am trying not to be bitter about what I just came out of. I want to be thankful that I made it through and that I ended well and on my terms. And now I just want to write.
A few days ago I found myself looking at my manuscript and while I read through the pages I kept thinking that this was the beginning of the journey and Afton and I were on. I know she is going to come up against some things that look impossible to get through. I always knew she would get through them- but I don't think I felt as if I could. Turns out.....I can.
I have talked to Rich about how I have the warrior spirit- the one that doesn't give up. The one that fights for their family, the one that believes in others. I have known it was there, but it seemed dormant. It's not anymore!!
This Warrior Writer is stepping out into the unknown and my goal is to finish this first book by Oct. 1st. Hopefully I will have some people look at it before then, but I have set my goal.
Now the fun part is the every day work to pull it off.
I will finish the book!!
I have to say that I completed what I had to and am now free of this situation. I'm still in the recovery process but am feeling more like "me" every day. So how did I get through this tough time?
It's nothing earth shattering really. I prayed a lot. I had friends that listened to me "vent". I had a very supportive husband. I looked for quotes and Bible verses that encouraged me and I had my music. I don't know if I would have gotten through without all of those things.
There were days that I didn't know if I was going to get through things and I would find some song or verse or poem and take strength from that. Lots of songs by Thousand Foot Krutch, RED, Fireflight, and Nine Lashes spoke to what I was feeling and gave me the courage I needed.
Then there is the book. I hadn't typed one word on the actual manuscript since last year. The miraculous thing is that I DID do a lot of what I call "spinning"- taking notes on parts of the story that come after the first book. Ideas would come to me in the middle of some of my hardest days. These little bits of encouragement have blossomed into almost 100 pages of notes on my series. I have the ending pretty much plotted out and know where my heroine is going. For that I am thankful.
I am trying not to be bitter about what I just came out of. I want to be thankful that I made it through and that I ended well and on my terms. And now I just want to write.
A few days ago I found myself looking at my manuscript and while I read through the pages I kept thinking that this was the beginning of the journey and Afton and I were on. I know she is going to come up against some things that look impossible to get through. I always knew she would get through them- but I don't think I felt as if I could. Turns out.....I can.
I have talked to Rich about how I have the warrior spirit- the one that doesn't give up. The one that fights for their family, the one that believes in others. I have known it was there, but it seemed dormant. It's not anymore!!
This Warrior Writer is stepping out into the unknown and my goal is to finish this first book by Oct. 1st. Hopefully I will have some people look at it before then, but I have set my goal.
Now the fun part is the every day work to pull it off.
I will finish the book!!
Friday, September 30, 2011
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:
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!
Sunday, September 4, 2011
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!
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!
Saturday, August 27, 2011
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.
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.
Thursday, August 25, 2011
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.
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.
Thursday, August 18, 2011
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".
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".
Sunday, August 14, 2011
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!
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!
Thursday, August 11, 2011
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.........
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.........
Wednesday, August 3, 2011
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.
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.
Monday, August 1, 2011
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
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
Thursday, July 28, 2011
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
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
Sunday, July 24, 2011
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".
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".
Tuesday, July 19, 2011
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:
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:
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