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Archive for the ‘thinking things through’ Category

I originally posted the following on The Inkwell blog, but I’m sharing it here now because it’s still relevant and I ran out of time to blog today. 😉

Audre Lorde once said, “There are no new ideas. There are only new ways of making them felt.” I believe she was right about that. Solomon said something similar in the first chapter of Ecclesiastes, “It has all been done before. Nothing under the sun is truly new.” (NLT)

Do you know what I love about writing? Ideas are all around me, and they’re limitless. When I see the trees begin to produce flowers in the Spring, I’m reminded of my personal growth that bursts into bloom after a long, dry, wintry spell of life. In that same Spring when we receive a surprise snowstorm and are forced to slow down and hibernate in our homes for a day or two, I consider the ways I am too busy, overly committed, and hard-headed to realize that I’m in need of a day of rest and reflection. These epiphanies can’t help but flow into my writing and inspire me to look at what I have to say with new eyes.

As writers, we are designed to take what we see, experience, and dream, and find engaging ways to offer it to our readers. There are no new ideas, only new ways of making them felt. That’s one of my basic goals, to make people feel. What ideas are brewing in you? What inspires you to write? How do those things shape your writing? What does your writing make people feel?

 


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Tune into PBS this Sunday to watch a Sesame Street Primetime Special titled, “Growing Hope Against Hunger.”

Brad Paisley and Kimberly Williams Paisley join the “Sesame Street” Muppets to help explain to children about the widespread problem of hunger in the U.S. In the special, they meet Lily, whose family is dealing with the issue. According to this article in The New York Times, 7-year-old Lily represents “one of the 17 million American children that the Department of Agriculture estimates are “food insecure,” meaning their access to food is limited or uncertain.”

I’m excited to watch it with our kiddos. If you live in the Denver area, it airs at 7 p.m. If not, look it up on your local PBS station’s schedule. I’ll update on this again after the special, but right now I think this is a GREAT idea!

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My Zoe is the sweetest girl. In the 8 years she’s been brightening up this planet, she has taught me nearly as much as I aim to teach her. I don’t remember anyone ever telling me that parenting a little girl would be this big of a learning experience for a momma. Guiding such a beautiful creature through the minefield of childhood has forced me to swiftly unpack and de-clutter my baggage so that I don’t pass it on to her. It’s not hers to carry, and just having her around like a mini-me mirror has made me painfully (and joyfully) aware that I don’t have to continue carrying it either.

Before I ever saw girl parts on an ultrasound, I knew that’s what we were having, and I was terrified. Paralyzing questions plagued my dreams and my fierce, mama bear heart grew stronger with each stretch of my belly. How would I protect her? How would I teach her to protect herself? I know these words are telling as much as I know that it is difficult to be the daughter of a survivor and I want more for her than that legacy. As is the pattern of my life, when I was sure I’d be overwhelmed, God stepped in and calmed my fears with two simple, difficult, beautiful words, “Trust Me.”

I was reminded that the very first mother had no mother of her own to call for advice. It was just her and God. She had no other option but to trust Him. Choice sometimes makes things harder, don’t you think? If Eve could do it without the support that I have from the incredible women in my life, then I can certainly do it. Have you ever trusted God out of sheer determination to do so? Or are you giggling at my silliness? 😉

How do I parent my pink-loving spitfire of a child? Very purposefully.

Like all children, she knows how to stall at bed time, and her favorite excuse goes something like this: “Can we have Mommy/Zoe time tonight?” (Cue the dimples and the sparkling chocolate-brown eyes) And when the answer is yes, we lie on her bed and star gaze as we chat about her tragedies and triumphs, and dream about the future. I answer her questions in honest, age appropriate language, and ask her some of my own. It’s in this place of comfort that we giggle and listen to Beethoven at Bedtime, talk about her first crush – JB, how annoying her brothers are, her crazy unique fashion sense, and whether or not I think she’s pretty. Yes, she’s already asking that one a lot. This time is precious to us both, but she needs her sleep, so we either need to find a better Mommy/Zoe time of the day, or she needs to go to bed earlier.  It’s imperative I work that out because my window of opportunity is shrinking. Want proof?

Try this eye-opening exercise:

Take out a sheet of paper and turn it horizontally. Draw a straight line across the paper. At the beginning of the line, make a mark indicating the day you were born. Now keep making marks across the line to represent every five years of your life until you reach 100. Next, mark off the years you spent in school (K-12, college if you attended, etc.), your wedding date if you’re married, and any other major life events you’ve experienced so far. Mark off the year you plan to retire. Here’s where it gets interesting. Make a mark on your time line to represent when your child was born, then tick off 18 years – assuming he/she moves out of your home at that age. If you have multiple children, put them on your time line too. Now put down your pencil. What do you see?

When someone taught me this exercise several years ago, it helped me put the “toddler and 2 babies in diapers” phase of my life in perspective. I needed this visual to convince me that the day would come when everyone in my house would be wiping themselves, they would grow up and eventually move out on their own, it had not taken up my entire life, and though I was a mom, I was so much more than that. There is life before and after kids.

I am grateful for this parenting time-line exercise and now and then I repeat it. But now it’s to remind me that my window is a small one and I want to savor these Mommy/Zoe moments while I can because one of these days I’m going to blink and she’ll be having those moments with her own child.

Join us for Gratituesday at Heavenly Homemakers!

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God is using a car to stretch my faith. Faith stretching is so nerve-wracking for recovering control freaks like me. 🙂 Here’s the story:

Instead of participating in Supper on the Pearl last Saturday night (our weekly meal with our street friends in Boulder), I was sick at home on the couch, honing my TV watching skills.  Benny called to tell me he was on his way home and he said, “By the way, I gave away my car tonight.” Um…WHAT? He told me about a young couple he had met that were traveling and their van broke down, stranding them. The repair was going to cost them thousands of dollars. A local church had put them up in a motel for a few days and given them money for food. We’ve heard all kinds of stories, but Benny was sure they weren’t just scamming him. He has pretty good discernment when it comes to that stuff. He said he felt the Holy Spirit telling him to give them his car. He has/had a 1993 Ford Escort Station Wagon that runs pretty well. He said he argued with God at first, but felt strongly that he should give it away. So Monday morning we drove it to them, handed over the keys and the title, and hugged them goodbye.

Now for the faith stretching part. Benny is leaving for a week-long fund-raising trip tomorrow morning. He’s taking our van – our only vehicle. I have to admit I was shocked (and mad) that I was going to be stranded at home. I know the word “stranded” is a little dramatic, but I have church on Sunday, jury duty on Monday, teach at school on Tuesday, a field trip on Thursday, and he’s not coming back until Thursday or Friday. What am I supposed to do? He said he was sure he was being obedient and that God would work something out. He’d ask around to see if anyone had a car I could borrow while he’s gone. 4 days later, nobody has responded to the need.

God and I have been talking about this all week. It’s gone something like this:

Me: God, Is Benny out of his freaking mind? Did you really nudge him to do this? Did he hear you correctly? A little advanced warning so I could plan for this would have been nice.

God: Trust me. Everything will be fine.

Me: You do realize that I have a busy schedule, right?

God: Yes, I know your schedule better than you do.

Me: O.K. well, this will be a great story to tell, eventually. Can’t wait to see how it turns out. I’m glad we helped someone, but I’m trying not to be irritated that it’s going to inconvenience me all week. I think I need some help with my attitude about all of this.

God: Yes, you do. Don’t worry, it doesn’t help, and I have everything under control. You’ll see, I get the glory in the end.

Me being me, I formed a back up plan. Those of you who know me, are laughing at me right now. I know it. 😉 I called friends and worked out rides to and from school and church, and planned to borrow a car for jury duty, but was stumped when it came time to figure out the field trip. I called my friend Rae because I was supposed to take one of her kids with me to the field trip and told her I may not be able to since I wasn’t sure how I was going to get there myself. She said, “Well, we have an extra car if you need to borrow it while Benny is gone.” Problem solved. After 4 days of waiting and all of that back up planning, it took a 3 minute conversation with a friend and my need was met. I’m the one out of my freaking mind.

I still don’t know how this story ends. My problem for the next week is solved, and I feel better, but even after Benny comes home, we’re going to need another vehicle. God is my provider and even when He doesn’t clue me in ahead of time, I can be confident that something will happen. I just need an occasional reminder. Maybe God is nudging some other man out there…

~to be continued~

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Sound bytes. That’s all I seem to have time for these days. It’s easy and I’m lazy. Period. I’ve had a love hate relationship with blogging and a love love relationship with Facebook. It’s true. Just ask one of my 1600 closest friends. Pop on in for a pseudo-conversation and a peek at my latest flair or mobile upload. Stop by here and see the dust collecting on my pretty daisies. It’s sad really, my laziness. I love writing, so why don’t I make the time to put fingers to keys and produce something worth reading? Laziness. Oh how I hate that word. Poor time management. Yes, that too. I like Facebook. Did I mention it’s easier?

I fondly remember the days when my blogging buddies and I frequented each others pages, spreading our encouragement, laughing at each other’s silliness, praying each other through the crappy days, and recommending books, music, movies, and other blogs. Many of them have abandoned blogging all together. Me? I’ve been treading water for a long time, trying to decide if I was circling the drain, just out for a lazy (there’s that word again) float, or if I was just taking a little break from the exercise.

Blogging used to be fun. Then I joined a writer’s group and it became not-so-fun. (Yes, I worded the sentence that way on purpose.) What was once spontaneous and gave me a public voice, became a millstone around my neck as I learned about platform, audience, self-promotion, and the words, “If you want to be successful, you NEED a blog.” Uh oh. Did I sense a bandwagon approaching? Is that what happened? Someone told me that I NEED a blog, so my rebellious spirit rose up to prove them wrong? I had been blogging for 5 years at that point. I didn’t NEED my blog, but I wanted it.  I watched as friends who had no desire to blog, created their sites and dutifully (another word I’m not fond of) clicked away to build their network. I hopped on over to Facebook and began getting friend requests from writers who don’t know me but wanted me to “be their fan” and help promote their work. Sure. I can do that. But me? Forced to blog because that’s what writers do? That rebellious spirit planted both feet, squared her shoulders up (can you see her hands on her hips and the challenging gleam in her eyes?) and said, “Wanna bet?”

Who likes being told what to do? How do I reign that girl in? How is it August already and I haven’t posted since January? I’m feeling it again. I want to blog. I want to connect through the written word and I want to have the freedom to use more than 140 characters, so I still fail to see the point of Twitter. Sorry. Facebook is my friend, but I miss my old friends, so here I am. I’m back again.

How have you been?

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