hear ye, hear ye

Our challenge for Day 1 came boldly to us this morning - Declare you’re a writer.

It was followed by these sentiments "Do it with pride and boldness. Write about it, tweet it about, record a video if you want. The more outrageous it is, the more likely you are to believe. This is what we’re trying to do here: convince ourselves that we have the right to pick up the pen."

Why is that so hard for us to do?

We seem to have the hardest time believing in ourselves.

As I desperately tried to find someone today to proclaim my writership to, I was coming up short.  I was ready to shout it from the rooftops and fly a plane across the beach with "I AM A WRITER- EAT AT JOE'S" waving proudly behind me in order to get someone to notice me.  But no one did.

Until I got the mail.

Mixed in that pile of catalogs and bills and unwanted correspondence, there was one sacred envelope.

My first paycheck - ever - for writing something.

How ironic that it came to me on Day 1 of this writing challenge.

So, while I may not have told anyone verbally today that I am a writer, I received something that verified my path and said to me "Yes, you are."

And that was the best news I heard all day.

tomorrow, tomorrow, I love ya, tomorrow....

Today I decided to make that commitment to write something, anything, every day.  The best practice for writing is to...write. 

Just hours later I received an invite to participate in a daily writing challenge starting tomorrow that will help develop great writing habits, push our pencils further than they've gone before, and get our creative juices flowing (even if it kills us). 

 It is the brainchild of Jeff Goins (who is, himself, a great writer).

If you write, ever thought of writing, or would just like to dip your pen in some ink and try out the craft, I invite you to join me as I partner with over 300 others who will rise to the challenge of weekday assignments meant to hone our skills and make us better than we were before.

And yes, that is possible.

Love is more than...

When I was little I wasn't allowed to sit on the shingled roof of our storage shed. Since the shed was built into the side of a hill, it was very easy to walk from one part of the lawn, take a step up and be on the roof.  And while it didn't go very high, sitting atop of it made us kids feel like kings and queens of the land, surveying our kingdom.

Which would make us disobedient royalty because it was against the rules.

One summer afternoon, something got the best of me.  I can't remember quite what that something was, but it made me go I went on the roof.  I had probably forgotten the rule and was just caught up in being a kid and having a good time and sitting somewhere high.  It was great.

Until I was climbing down and broke a shingle.

And the memory of that ruling came to me in an instant.

I stood there, broken roof piece in hand, and knew I'd done it.

Verdict -  so guilty.

I found my mom in the kitchen and told her my story.  She listened, and then looked at me and said, "You'll have to wait until your father gets home and tell him."  Rats. This wasn't going according to plan. She wasn't going to get me out of it.  (On the other hand, I have no idea why my mother said this because my father was about the gentlest creature around. This was the one and only time my mother ever used that line on me. And on that day it worked just fine. Shiver me timbers.)

I still remember that afternoon, sitting on the top step outside the front door waiting for him to pull in the driveway after work. I remember holding that piece of asphalt roofing material in my hand, knowing it was enough evidence to send me to bed without dinner at least, and perhaps eradicate all my summer plans at most.

So, so guilty.

The car pulled in.  Dad came up the steps.  I'm sure I immediately blubbered in my preteen way something about I broke a shingle because I was on the roof and I wasn't supposed to be and I didn't listen and oh I'm so sorry and......

My father paused for a moment.  Then he patted my head as he walked by, and I'll never forget what he said.

"Love is more than a broken shingle."

I'm almost positive he was smiling.  Even he knew when he was being corny.  And even he knew when his daughter had been punished enough just by waiting for hours to be able to tell him her error and say she was sorry.

As I finally let out a breath I'd been holding in for quite some time, I felt that relief of being forgiven, of the man in charge saying "no big deal", and of not getting what I deserved.

That's grace.

You may be sitting with brokenness today, holding wrongdoings in hand to show your Father.  You may not be sure just how He'll receive you, because you've done what He asked you specifically not to do.

We've all been there, done those things.

And while He may not actually pat your head and give you a wry one-liner, He will always, always exude grace and forgive you and fill you with peace when you come to Him and lay your sins and sorrows at His feet.

So get up off the top step and go to Him because you can. 

This time, He's the one waiting for you.

not your mama's jewelry

I am happy to have the chance to review a beautiful jewelry set from (in)courage, called Redeemed - I Am His.  There are two lovely pieces to this - a charm bracelet and a pendant necklace.

What a beautiful gift for yourself or someone in your life!  These can be purchased through Dayspring's website.

When I think of jewelry, I often think of my mom.  She was never found without her dangly earrings; no outfit would have been complete without that accessory for her!  She always looked fantastic, and, as with most moms, I thought she could solve every problem and heal every wound that came along in my life.

I can't say that she ever let me down even once in that area- she truly was a super woman.

For those moms in our lives who encourage us to be our best and are always cheering us on - we thank you!

(This set is a part of (in)courage's May Inspired Deals . Dayspring sent this to me free of charge and the opinions stated herein are my own.)

Missing Mom

Twelve years ago today, my mom left this earth to go live with her Savior in heaven. 

 It was hard to say goodbye.

It still is.

But what remains are happy, joyful, loving memories.  It was all good, always.

When I recall how I felt about her - how my world so often wonderfully revolved around her and how she was my best friend and my true north - sometimes I get scared because now I'm a mom and I'm wondering if my three children feel the same way about me.

Wow.  It's quite the position to be The Mother.

May I do as well as she did.  It would be an honor.

Happy Mother's Day, Mom.

I love you.

hail walmart, full of grace....

A couple of weekends ago, I threw a temper tantrum in my office.  A full blown I've had enough, this is frustrating, I didn't ask for these inconveniences foot-stomping time.  If I'd been the age I was acting, I would have been 3 feet tall and most likely resorted to throwing myself onto the floor as I pounded my fists.

Instead, I turned my annoyance to the print job that was coming out of my newly purchased, just installed, this-was-its-maiden-voyage printer and due to my impatience (see "tantrum" above), decided to give one sheet a little help and yank pull it out before it was completely done.

And after that, my new printer wouldn't print any more.

Ugh.

I tried everything technical I knew to do.  I unplugged it and plugged back it in.  I turned it on, and turned it off.  I smiled at it, complimented its sleek black look and winked, but every time I tried to print, I got the same whirring sound with no paper passing through.

Brand new printer, fresh out of the box, and now I was going to have to pack it up and, with my tail between my legs, head back to Walmart for a replacement. To make matters worse, that box it was fresh out of was already gone with last week's trash, along with my receipt.

Double ugh.

Standing in front of the Walmart counter the next day, I prayed for a seamless transaction. I was looking for a little grace.  Okay, a lot of grace.  As I meekly handed over said printer, clad only in a thin canvas bag, I explained to the customer service rep that it wasn't working properly.  And how I didn't have the original box and no, I didn't have the receipt either.  And how I'd like to just get out of the store quietly with a new piece of equipment and forget any of this ever happened.

I heard her magic words.  "Go get another printer."

My relief smiled from ear to ear.

Faster than a flight out of Philly, I made a beeline back to the electronics section, picked myself up another box full of print-o-magic, and returned to the service counter.  She crunched some numbers, handed me a receipt which I vowed to keep, and sent me on my way. 

Walmart extended undeserved favor to me, really. It wasn't their fault the printer didn't work anymore.  I was the one that had screwed up. I was the one with the hasty attitude, yet they were willing to give me another chance to calm down and do it right the next time. On their dollar.

God does that for me every day.  I yell, I scream, I want things my way and in my time.  When I finally settle down and see my immaturity and realize I've been fighting His perfect plan, I open up my pounding, clenched fists and humbly ask for some grace. Some undeserved favor.  For a do-over, promising to do it His way this time.

And He answers with grace, with a second chance. From that, I learn to love Him even more because He is a God who loves me and who lets me try again.

Even when I act 3 feet tall.

I'm a writer, you're a writer....

I thoroughly enjoyed reading Jeff Goin's newest ebook, "You Are a Writer."  I was glad I had a free weekend to read it because to be honest, I couldn't put it down.  I'm one who likes to print out the pages of an ebook so that I can highlight and make notes and mark it up.  This was a smart move on my part, as I immediately recognized none other than myself described in the pages of his writing.  I couldn't stop highlighting, or nodding my head in agreement as I read, or murmuring a hushed "amen, brother" as I read page after page. Each time I was done a section, I headed back to the laptop to print out more, eager to keep reading this jewel of an ebook that had come my way. I couldn't get enough of it.  It was just the direction and advice I'd been looking for to be able to believe in my writing again.

Jeff has an innate ability to aptly describe what all of us writers go through at one point or another; that surge of excitement upon discovering this writing that we love to do, and then that slow slide down the other side of the hill called Slight Success that takes us to the bottom where we sit looking around and wondering where our thrill went.

And wondering if we'll ever write again.

"You Are a Writer" recognizes that we all get to a crossroads in our writing life where we are faced with the choice of either turning back or pushing ahead.  Jeff wisely gives us real tools and challenges to show us how to get up, brush the dust off our backside, and head out once again into the dream that we have always known was ours for the taking.  The writing life is waiting for us; we just need to claim it.

If you've ever written, if you've ever dreamed of writing, if you do write, or if you're simply looking for the permission to call yourself a writer, this ebook is for you.   It's a drink of water in a dry and thirsty land where we wonder if we really can make it doing this thing called writing that we love.

Jeff assures us that we can. 

And I, for one, believe him.