School starts in seven days! Seven days! Which means not only will my kids be going to school in 100 plus degree heat, so will I!

Is it just me or is it just plain wrong to send kids to school in August? Technically, it’s still SUMMER. Time for swimming and BBQs and staying up late! Sure, getting out of school at the end of May was great, but I’d gladly extend school into June if we could start school in September!

September is for school (though where I grew up in NY September days were just as HOT as August.) They even start with the same letters. I’ve heard a few arguments for school ending in May and starting in August, but I’m not buying any of them. What’s your take on this school thing?

I really wish we’d go back to an after Labor Day school start, especially this year. I could use the extra month to catch up on house stuff, plan for my Creative Writing class, and finish my 2009 tax return!

But school starts in a week and I’m teaching, guess I can’t play hookie!

My kids would tell you I’m WAY overprotective.

My oldest wasn’t allowed to walk down to the neighbors home on his own in our quiet suburban neighborhood until he was ten, and then I can’t even remember if I let him play inside. There was a lot to worry about. I really didn’t know the parents or the older brother at all. Why would I allow my son to play inside a home I’ve never been in? Mix that with the nightly news and violence against kids and my overactive imagination and you got one overprotective mom.

When it came time to send the kids to camp, I’d warn them about swimming in the lakes and that parasites that could infect their brains and kill them if they got water up their nose. Every year a kid died from this mysterious disease in our state and my kids were not going to be one of them! Add that to the fact that I knew people who’ve drowned in rivers and were paralyzed in lakes and that lakes where we live are just plain icky and disgusting and you got one over protective mom.

Don’t even get me started about my fears of dogs and guns in someone’s home…

I’m sure I can go on and on and you can probably add your own overprotective stories to this post (and please do in the comment section) but I’d like to tell you about a REAL random act of violence that happened to my sweet, eight year old daughter yesterday…

I just started allowing my daughter to go to friends houses in the neighborhood and let friends come over, but the act of violence didn’t happen at home. It happened on vacation over her grandparents’ house. I should preface the story that the violence while random, wasn’t physically damaging and she seems to be emotionally fine (though wanting justice) so don’t worry, nothing horrific happened to her.

It was getting dark and her and her two older brothers and cousin wanted to go outside and watch the bats fly, so while normally I’d insist on an adult being outside with them, on this quiet cul-de-sac I wasn’t worried, though the idea did give me a moment of pause. Everything was quiet and I finally decided it was time for them to come in when my daughter comes up to me and tells me this little girl came up and punched her three times, one in the eye. I shook my head, not sure I heard correctly, but she told me the same story.

Her and the boys were playing a game where she was hiding in the bushes when this group of kids came up (not sure if they were playing with them, but the other day they did ask if they could play when we were down the street at a family reunion with about 50 people in the yard and the owner of the house said it wasn’t a good time, so we don’t know if they were mad about that)

My daughter said she saw the older girls whisper to the littlest one and then the littlest one (about my daughters size) went up and punched her in the face and eye about 5 or 6 times. And that was it!

Of course, I questioned why she didn’t yell and she didn’t know why. She was probably in shock, but that gave me concern because I’ve always taught my kids about screaming when a “bad man” tried to hurt them. I guess I should have expanded the age and gender bracket on “bad men.”

I then asked her brothers and cousin why they didn’t defend her and they didn’t even know it happened. Wow! More questions birthed in my mind. How could no one know what had happened even though she was hidden from everyone and why didn’t she tell?

Why didn’t she tell?

Makes you wonder how many other victims don’t tell right after the “act of violence,” but thankfully that’s the first thing she said when she saw me.

Needless to say, I was in shock and outraged and insisted on having my husband go down and talk to the family. It hasn’t happened yet and I’m a little worried that the parents might not believe their child did this, but my daughter keeps asking “are we going down there today.”

She may not be able to put it into words, but I know she wants justice. In fact, she said “I want to see her get in trouble.”

So if you think about it, say a prayer for “justice” and the courage for us to play this thing out when it’s so easy just to forget it all happened!

I wrote this a week ago thinking it wasn’t done yet. But then decided to post as is, with all it’s imperfections and heart. I’m still a bit stuck, but have landed on solid ground!

Why is it just when things start to move, when my life seems headed in the right direction, when I’m doing all things…okay, most things right, I get stuck?

After a month of not writing and feeling like I was wandering around LOST on the island of confusion (yeah, notice the clever imagery) I find a glimmer of hope. My witty, albeit, bad poem was recognized for the horrible genius it was. But the victory was short lived when I didn’t final in a major writing contest. A contest a published writing friend encouraged me to enter because my story was that good. Obviously, it wasn’t good enough, and while I’m not completely discouraged, I’ve had a minor set back. The raft I’d built and started to paddle out to sea had sprung a leak.

Still I was floating and moving forward off the dreaded island. I had other victories to hold tight too as the waves began crashing over the sides of the raft. I had lost a significant amount of weight, more than I’d lost in a long time. But suddenly, the scale stopped being kind, though I’ve been doing all the right things. And my raft began to break apart.

Why? I cried out to my creator.

Why does it have to be so hard? Is it too much to have a little victory in my life? But all I heard in return was the wind. The howling, obnoxious wind reminding me I was alone. Yet, I knew that was a lie as I held onto my raft, shivering in the downpour that just started.

Figures!

Alone and wet, I shivered, wondering, waiting, wailing. Then the rain stopped, and the sun came out. A rainbow appeared. Suddenly I noticed the warmth. Seeing there was nothing out to sea for miles, I began paddling back to shore with my bare hands.

Finally, not making headway, I lay down on the raft of my own making, exhausted, defeated, realizing I couldn’t go on without Him.

Him.

How long had it been since I spent time with Him. Since I called on Him for help?

Too long.

When had I closed myself off to Him? It didn’t happen overnight, but slowly by slowly, little by little, while I was getting busy, He was the one drifting further and further away.

But the island was in sight and without thinking I plunged into the sea and swam. My body was weary, my arms weak. I didn’t know if I’d make it. “Lord, help me. I need you. I can’t do it on my own any longer.”

Up out of the water rose a huge wave, not threatening, but comforting. As my body tumbled inside the wave two things became apparent. I would either die or make it to shore. But at least I wouldn’t be struggling or alone.

Where are you? Are you alone on an island or paddling out to see? Either way, call out to Him for you are not alone!

“Because he loves me,” says the Lord, “I will rescue him; I will protect him, for he acknowledges my name. He will call upon me and I will answer him. I will be with him in trouble, I will deliver him and honor him. With long life will I satisfy him and show him my salvation.” Psalm 91:14-16

My intention is not to make light of those who have suffered real loss from death or tragedy, but I’ve been in a writing funk for a while…almost two weeks and suddenly realized I’ve been going through the five stages of grief. I’m happy to say I’m in the acceptance stage, but for a while it was ugly, real ugly.

After an incredible weekend with Susan May Warren and some sound writing advice I began to realize I might have to ditch the WIP I’d been working on for 6 months. All 50,000 words. Now you need to understand something. 6 months and 50,000 is a huge chunk out of my writing life, and I was not about to give it up without a fight. I was in the SHOCK and DENIAL stage all weekend. I couldn’t think, let alone apply any of the great teaching to my current WIP which was technically dead to me at the moment.

After the excitement and the adrenaline of the weekend wore off I went through a mixture of ANGER and BARGAINING and DEPRESSION. I don’t remember the anger stage being strong, but depression was incapacitating at times! I couldn’t write or even read. What was the point! My story was dead, and I wasn’t about to try and read someone else’s story while I was grieving. Then came the bargaining. Maybe, just maybe I can salvage the WIP. So I tried writing my historical romance in first person. Only got 113 words written before depression set in again and I realized it was useless. If I turned my WIP into women’s fiction, it would be a totally different story with a different feel and plot. Which was okay, but something I didn’t have the energy to do. After all, I was still grieving.

So I started revisiting an old idea, close to my heart that I’ve been afraid to write. First, I reread the 7 pages, the only pages I’ve written and my heart was stirred. I felt new life coming back into my soul. So I read it again, and edited just a few lines and added a few more. Could I do this? Then I sent it out to some trustworthy friends for confirmation that I should be working on this story. All the results are still not in from said friends, but my heart is stirred and terrified! It’s the story of my heart, and I don’t know if I have the skill to do it justice. It’s nothing like I’ve ever written before, and I don’t even know where to begin. But I’m finally in the ACCEPTANCE stage and ready to move on. I’m ready to write again.

Where are you in your writing? Are you grieving? Sometimes if we identify the loss, it makes it easier to move on!

As I continue on this journey of faith and publication it becomes more and more apparent that I’m the protagonist in my own story, and God is the author, moving me along my story arc as I race toward my happy ending.

While there is comfort in knowing that God is the ultimate author, and my story is safe in his hands, there is also fear.

I’m a writer. I know what authors do to their protagonists to get them to the end so they can be the person they were created to be. So they can ultimately reject the lies they’ve been believing about themselves, and embrace the essence of who they truly are. And walk in truth.

The protagonist must be taken on a soul-searching, gut-wrenching journey. A journey that tears them wide open, where everything in their life falls apart to bring them to their black moment where they cry “Lord, you’re the only hope for this heart.”

That’s where I am right now.

Desperately trying to figure out where I fit in this writing world, where God wants me to be. Trying hard not to listen to the lies blaring in my ears that tell me I can’t do this. That it’s too hard. That I’m a nobody. That I will never be who I dream to be, and maybe, just maybe, this is all that God has for me, and I should be content.

Yet, deep inside there’s still a pull, a longing to embrace the essence of who I know I am, who God created me to be, but not sure if I have the strength to go on.

I’m lost, wandering around in my own story arc. Have I reached my black moment in my writing life? Have I surrendered all? Will there be a happily ever after?

I don’t know, but what I do know is that this weekend when it felt like everything was falling apart in my writing life, God spoke to me at just the right moment, twice, through a song. And his message was clear.

“When everything falls apart
Your arms hold me together
When everything falls apart
Your the only hope for this heart
When everything falls apart
And my strength is gone
I find you mighty and strong
You keep holding on
You keep holding on.”

Where are you in your life’s story? Will you keep holding on?

Categories: Faith Walking , Things that Make me go Ouch , Writing |April 18th, 2010 | 8 Comments

I started on this writing journey enthusiastic, bright-eyed, and hopeful.

That was six years ago.

Now I’m weary, blurry-eyed, and discouraged.

Why?

What takes a determined person and zaps the life from her dreams?

Is it the struggles we face a long the way? The obstacles we must overcome?

Or is it the lack of results?

While I’ve had small successes in my writing career, I’m starting to wonder if it’s enough to sustain me. Yes, editors have been interested, even enthusiastic in my ideas over the last six years, but they’ve always ended in a rejection. Yes, I have an awesome, encouraging agent, but in the year and a half I’ve been with him he hasn’t sold my two manuscripts (by no fault of his own.) I’m slowing trudging through my current WIP in hopes it will be the one…

People tell me to be patient. I encourage others to be patient, but lately I’ve been wondering why we grow weary and why some people eventually quit.

I’m convinced it’s lack of results.

Apply it to any other area of life. Take my weightloss journey which I began anew this January. I did all the right things. Said my daily surrender statement, exercised daily, watched what I ate. But the scale didn’t cooperate. I calculated that if I did everything right I would lose 2 lbs. a week. By the end of the first month I lost 2 lbs. Not my original goal, but I persevered through the next month, slacking a little in my enthusiasm, still exercising though not as faithful in eating healthy on the weekends. Here it is the end of March and according to my original plan I should be 21lbs. lighter. Well, I’m not! Why? Because lack of results killed my enthusiasm, and it’s very discouraging to keep doing the hard things, the right things, to keep persevering without results.

Take a look in the Bible. Abraham was so discouraged when a son wasn’t born to Sarah that he took things into his own hands which ended in disaster. Though God was still faithful to his promise and turned it around, it was still less than what God had originally planned for Abraham. Same thing happened throughout Abraham’s family line. First the promise, then the wait, then the impatience and discouragement. Discouragement because of a lack of result which produced a lack of faith and the person taking things into his own hands.

It’s hard to persevere when our time table is light years ahead of God’s. When we think we know best and our timing is perfect. It’s hard to keep going without results. Big results! Little encouragements along the way like landing an agent or losing a few pounds help, but in the end what makes us stick it out? Results.

But when their are no results, all with have is faith. Faith. Is it enough to sustain? It is for me, for now. Though it’s not easy…

Is faith enough for you?

“Let us not become weary in doing good, for at the proper time we will reap a harvest if we do not give up.” Galatians 6:9

Lately, there’s been a lot of talk about dreams and working hard to achieve them? A part of me believes whole heatedly in never giving up on your dreams, the other part of me wonders if the price is really worth it…if the realization of that dream will actually come to pass. If I have what it takes to carry it through to the end.

I’ve been dreaming BIG dreams my entire life, yet the only dreams that ever come to pass are the little ones. Is it because of MY effort? Am I not trying hard enough? But if I try harder, then something in my life will be out of balance. Seems a bit like works mentality to me, and that I can make it happen. Where’s God’s will in all this dreaming. I don’t care how hard you work, you might NEVER reach your dreams. Your dreams, the dreams you think are God’s dreams might not really be HIS dream for you.

That’s where I’m at right now. I’ve spent over 30 years dreaming big. Sometimes I wish I could be happy, content with small dreams.

Where are you in your dream cycle?

“When God leads you to the edge of the cliff, trust Him fully and let go, only 1 of 2 things will happen, either He’ll catch you when you fall, or He’ll teach you how to fly!”

I read this in an email devotion and it got me thinking… What do I have to lose when God leads me to the edge of a cliff?

Then the doubts set in. What IF he doesn’t catch me? What if he lets me crash and burn? What if it’s in his plan to help put the pieces back together? What if…

Where are you at in your faith walk? What do you believe and why?

I’m still chewing on this one!

God is so faithful even when I think he’s not. The other day my email Lenten devotion was about God showing love in practical ways. He did two times that day. One, I had missed breakfast running late for school. After my first class I thought I’d try to find a granola bar in the snack machine. I was 5 cents short. So I go to the teachers lounge praying there was something healthy to eat, knowing there are hardly any snacks in the teacher’s lounge and when they are they’re NOT healthy.

But I walk in and see a basket of Clementines. (Insert BIG smile) How more practical could God of gotten for me that day?

Fast forward an hour or so later and I run to Quick Trip to grab lunch (since I didn’t have time to pack one.) While there I decide to surprise my big kids with a slushie since they were at lunch, and I grabbed a package of donuts for my little one. Now this would be a huge treat for them because I avoid giving all my kids sugar at school and most days. But I wanted them to be surprised and bless them unexpectedly.

My big boys were very surprised, but my little ones were still in class. That is until my 9 year old runs into the lounge frantic and says, “mom, did you remember the cookies for the party in class today?” Nooo, I didn’t remember because every time my son reminded me we were in the car driving somewhere. BUT I had bought those donuts and there were only six kids in the class!!! How cool was that? God provided even before I had a need!

Now if He’d just pour out the blessings on the big stuff!!!

How has God shown practical love to you?

I’m sure hoping the feeling is fleeting, but I’ve been locked up in a hotel room for over 24 hours and 7,000 plus words later…writing has become a chore. A chore for which I’m NOT GETTING PAID!

It made me start to wonder why I put myself through this torture when I could be just as happy (if not more so) watching reruns of LOST and developing my own theories while crocheting a 90 foot afghan. Heck, I’d probably finish the afghan before I finish this book. It also occurred to me tonight as I wrestled some very badly written words out of my head and onto the screen that I’d get more joy out of seeing my book unfold in my mind, so why oh why oh why do I think I have to actually write them down for no one else but me and my mom to read.

Insanity! That’s what I call it, and I’m certifiable! I’m 38,000 words into my 80,000 historical romance and I just want to be done with it. I guess I can blame it on the sagging middle and keep my focus on the good things to come. Or maybe I’m just getting too old for these writing marathon weekends. You know what might help. A contract. And money, yea, that would help dull the pain a little. And some Ben & Jerry’s Chubby Hubby but no matter where I look the stores don’t stock them, that’s when when I actually do find I pint, I need to grab it and run.

So now the question. What makes you the energizes bunny? That dude keeps going and going and going and never gets anywhere! Yes, this post is random and scattered like my brain after staring at the screen since 8 am. So I guess I should call it a night and pray morning doesn’t come too soon!

But it’s actually my daughter giving up cheese…her favorite food in the world. I’m so proud of her for giving cheese up for Lent. Last night I went to Sonic to buy her some cheddar bites. She “savored” every one! And she isn’t too worried, she says she’ll have “one cheese” on Sundays!

What do your kids think about Lent and what are they giving up?

I’ve been observing Lent for decades. At first out of habit, now out of want for more of God. But it wasn’t until the last couple of years that I heard about Fat Tuesday.

Fat Tuesday. Not sure I really need to indulge all that much because I’ve been indulging for the last year so gorging on what I’m giving up doesn’t seem necessary. So what am I giving up? What am I NOT giving up is a better question. Here’s the what and why. Feel free to share yours in the comments.

Facebook and Twitter because they rob me of time and relationships.Whenever I get needy I run to the computer and tweet and click and search and wait for instant gratification. Needless to say, it isn’t instant, so I tweet and search and comment and wait sometimes wasting an hour or more, robbing myself of building real life relationships with God, family, and friends. So I’m taking the temptation away and trying to run to those closest when the urge for connection comes. Don’t worry, I’ll still be available by email (my facebook messages come to my email,) but the mindless, surfing will be cut off and hopefully I’ll get more done. Hopefully!

Food, okay, not all food, but specifically sweets, treats, simple carbs, junk food…you get the picture. I’ve tried to give these things up since January, but for some reason it’s easier to cut these out of my diet during Lent. Every time I reach for a piece of candy, the conviction hits hard, and I have the will power (through grace) to say no because I made a commitment not just to myself, but to God. I usually give up this stuff every year and don’t lose weight, but hopefully this year will be different since I’ve been really good about exercising. I’m hoping to make this a permanent life change.

I’m sure I’ll give more things up along the way as I notice what comes between me and God, but for now that’s enough and like I said I won’t be gorging myself today on these things. I’ll just go about my normal lack of self control, cause I really thinks that’s more than enough for Fat Tuesday.

How about you?

Do you observe Lent? Why or why not?

And what are you giving up for Jesus to make room for him?

Why are we drawn to what we can’t have and to the people who don’t want us? Why is it so easy for some to be a part of a group while others continue to stare from outside the circle longing to be in. I’ve struggled with this feeling ALL my life and it’s so hard to see my kids struggle with the same thing. I want desperately to help, but how can I when I don’t have the answers?

Friendship, true friendship is a gift. It can’t be bought for oneself and it shouldn’t be begged for. To be given something after prodding and begging seems to cheapen the value, lessen the friendship. Who wants a gift that was forced? I sure don’t. But it’s taken me YEARS to learn this lesson, and God’s been speaking to me of late, whispering a simple truth for my life that sounds something like this “don’t chase after friendships that I have not given you.”

I don’t understand why some people are drawn to each other and others are not. I don’t understand why I can easily rally people together but am often forgotten. I don’t understand why my children have to experience the same thing, but I do know that Jesus understands because he’s walked the same, lonely path. He didn’t conform to this world and wasn’t invited to the “happening” parties either.

The only thing I do understand is that God has given me a heightened sense, an awareness of those who feel the same way. I notice the outsider at writing conferences desperately wanting to belong to that inner circle. I notice the insecure child not sure how to fit in. I notice the quiet one in a crowd. Because I have been there and in many ways, I’m still there. And often times I feel God wants me to reach out to them. And many times I do.

Do I still long to be a part of the in-crowd? Do I still feel left out when I hear of others getting together when I sit home alone? Does my heart still ache for my children who are often left out? Yes, yes, and yes. But I know that friendship is a gift and instead of looking for it, I’m asking God to give it to me, to my children. And those he’s sent my way in the last couple of years, months, those whom he hand picked for me are priceless. Though they are not many, I wouldn’t trade them because they have given me a gift. The gift of true friendship.

What about you? Do you chase after things, people that are not yours? And how can you use your longer to reach out to others?

It can be very discouraging when you’re doing everything right and the weight isn’t coming off. I know it’s only been a week, but I “feel’ like I should have lost 5lbs with how I’ve been eating, tracking my calories and staying under my daily allotment and how I’ve been drinking more water and exercising for at least 30 minutes every day. Earlier this week when I got on the scale it said I lost 2 lbs. This morning it says I lost 1lb.

I know I shouldn’t be a slave to the scale. I know that I’m making great choices, doing the right things and actually on schedule to lose all the weight by the time I hit that goal date, but it’s hard when the scale is harsh! My body feels sore and I feel more fit than a week ago, is it to much to ask the scale for a little encouragement!

I know what my problem is. I’ve taken my eyes of the dailies and looked ahead toward the months of doing the same thing with little results. I know that’s not realistic, but at the moment, that’s how I feel. I probably should put the scale away for a couple of weeks and keep doing what I’m doing, but what if at the end I haven’t lost anything? Is it possible to do everything you’re supposed to and still fail?

I don’t think so, but it just makes me wonder if I really should be doing more…eating less…

Yep, I’m doing it! Not sure what exactly or when or even why, but I’m tired of the body I’m living in, the excuses I make and basically I just want to prove myself wrong. The self that says:

I’ll never have the fit body I’ve dreamed about even though I’ve seen my overweight friends finally achieve theirs…in their 40s.

It’s impossible to lose weight now that I’m over 40!

I’ll never be able to run a marathon, let alone a half or 5K. Especially since I HATE running.

And that Iron Man Hawaii triathlon is INSANE! I’m not even sure I can swim, bike or run a mini-triathlon.

I’m not sure how it will all work. (Like I can fit something else into my crammed schedule, though I did wake at 6:16 am!) Maybe I’ll start with a 5K in a couple of months, maybe more (months not miles.) Maybe a triathlon isn’t on the agenda until next year, maybe sooner and I have NO plans of ever running a marathon, but who knows! I’ve signed up for Beginner Triathlete.

Anyone want to jump on the insanity train?

That’s the word I got in church on Sunday. Now before I start a heated theological debate on prosperity and God’s blessings, stay with me and think about it. God may not be interested in our happiness because he’s more interested in our growth.

Trust me, this is a hard pill for me to swallow because as a forty-one year old who’s had her unfair share of  life’s unhappiness and disappointments, who’s walked with the Lord faithfully since she was 15. Who’s survived a dysfunctional family and minor tragedies and the seemingly death of certain dreams, I keep asking myself and God…”How much more growth do I need? Aren’t you finished with me yet? Can I just live the rest of my life being happy? Pleeaase!”

I bet that’s what Abraham thought when God told him to sacrifice Isaac, his son of the promise. The one that would make him a great nation.

Abraham followed God when God was a complete mystery to him and God promised him a son. An heir. Then Abraham waited and waited and waited. “Hello, God, remember me?” He remained sonless, but he was faithful. Even when he became impatient and fathered Ishmael, he was still faithful to God. Still wondering when his dream would come to pass. Still serving… But it took even more waiting and growing for Abraham until he was so old, 100 years, that his dream of doing all the father and son things with his child was nearly dead. But he held on. And eventually the promise was fulfilled.

Why did God have Abraham wait so long? I have no idea. Why doesn’t God give us…me my dreams when I really, really, really want them? I have no idea.

My pastor said something else that resonated with me and I’m paraphrasing “Sometimes God gives us our dreams, but it takes so long time when we finally get them we really don’t care any more and kinda wish he’d give them to someone else…” I’m beginning to relate.

Maybe that’s God’s plan. Maybe God wants us to give up our dreams, to come to a place of faith that even though we want something so bad we yield to him because he knows what’s best even if we don’t understand. Maybe God wants us to love his will more than our dreams and when that happens he may finally give us our dreams…or not. Or maybe, just maybe we need to be broken and emptied of our selves, our wills, our desires so God can move in and through us. Maybe that can’t happen when we’re holding tight to our dreams.

I can imagine what was going through Abraham’s mind when God asked him to kill Isaac, his dream? The fulfillment of God’s promise which he’d been waiting decades for. Despite his fear, doubt, concern, grief and utter despair, he went through with it. He bound his son of the promise, placed him on the altar, and raised the knife to strike. Inside I bet he was screaming “why? I don’t understand? How much more growth do I need? Aren’t you finished with me yet? Can I just live the rest of my life being happy? Nonetheless, not my will, but yours be done.”

God was not concerned with Abraham’s (or Isaac’s) happiness, was he? At least not their immediate happiness.

You know the rest of the story. God told Abraham not to strike Isaac and provided a ram for sacrifice. Abraham passed the test, but he was a changed man. His relationship with Isaac was changed and his future was changed. I’d like to believe he was transformed for the better. That he graduated into the fullness of who God wanted him to be. It makes me wonder what would have happened if he refused to kill Isaac. Would the tests have continued? Would God still have loved and blessed Abraham and Isaac? I believe so, but I don’t think they would have fulfilled God’s plan for their lives.

Would Abraham have become the great nation God had promised him one day? Would he have been all that God created him to be? I don’t know, but maybe not.

The one thing that keeps me going when my personal happiness is beyond reach, when my family isn’t picture perfect, when my countless hours of writing never seems to pay off, when my dreams start to fade and I ask God “Aren’t you finished with me yet? Can I just live the rest of my life being happy? How much more growth do I need?” is that God isn’t finished with me because he has so much more for me! More than I can possibly imagine or dream up and even if I don’t understand any of it, I’m willing to wait.

Are you?

I used to dread the holidays. Sometimes I still do. I grew up in a NY Italian family that celebrated every holiday together. Then I got married and moved away and holidays weren’t something I looked forward to anymore.

At first it was me and hubby. I tried doing the festive thing for Thanksgiving and Christmas and kept some of the traditions and even dressed up at times. Then kids came a long and I bought those cute suits for the kids, several years in a row, but realized we’d always be dressed up with no place to go.

Some years we went to see family, but when the kids got older and our family grew it was much easier to stay home. Soon the holidays came and went, and we barely made it out of our pajamas. Often it became just another day and each year I’d grieve inside. I’d grieve not having family around, but most of all I grieved the fact that even though I belonged to a church and a Christian community, no one, I mean no one except for two Easters, invited us over for the holidays and many knew we had no family in town.

Many years we invited others over with us (one year we had a dozen college students) and those were the best times, but deep inside I still grieved the lack of community, of true family and fellowship. The last couple of years since my family moved to town we’ve had small intimate holidays with friends joining us as well. This year it will just be our family and my mom who’s living with us.

Still, I wish we could share the holiday with someone. Maybe someone who once felt like us, though we’re not sure who that person or family might be. I’d happily clean off my dining room table (which is covered in Christmas decor at the moment) and make room for them.

Here are some past thoughts about community and holidays:

Finding Community: Is God Enough?

Ho Hum Holidays 2006

Thanksgiving: Now That’s More Like It 2008

It’s been 11 days since I started my no sugar challenge and except for that darn cheesecake at the banquet Friday night, I’m pretty proud of myself.

After binging on Halloween candy the evening of October 31st, I knew I needed a change. You see, it’s not like I binge all day long on sweets, but I do like my 2 and a half teaspoons of sugar in my coffee and the occasional afternoon mini chocolate or two or three in the afternoon for a pick me up or stress relief.

It’s not that I always order a sonic Reseese’s blast, it’s just that I didn’t deny myself either if I really wanted it. And of course I’d always order a lite Java Chip, and sugar free ice coffee. It’s not like I was 100 lbs. over weight, just those pesky 20 that never seemed to come off. Okay, 25 with the five I gained the last couple of months. But I knew if I kept it up, my weight would go up. What I was lacking was self control!

So I decided to go cold turkey with the no sugar. Now, I’m not religious about it, I don’t check the ingredients on every package. I still have two tablespoons of cream in my coffee, and will indulge in a 150 calorie cereal bar if I’m on the go, but I’ve gone 11 days WITHOUT eating leftover candy and WITHOUT sugar in my coffee and I’m fine with the taste.  Did you read that people? For someone who LOVES a super sweet drink, I’m okay with NO sugar in my coffee! But I’m not ready to give up my cream!! Don’t even ask…maybe some day, but not now. Baby steps!

I’m also making baby steps in exercising again.  I was on a great summer schedule, but once homeschooling and teaching school started, it was hard to find a consistent plan. I’m working towards that and sweating more! I plan to cheat with the sugar thing on Friday or Saturday (hopefully not both days) and then try and go again with no sugar until Thanksgiving.

Do you think I can do it? Wanna join me?

Off line, away from my computer, tending to the things of life like homeschooling, carting kids from activity to activity, and teaching creative writing two days a week.

This year is the season of “no” for me. At least that’s the way I feel. No writing, no blogging, no socializing (not that I have many real-life-friends, anyway,) no doing much of anything for me! My exercise schedule has slowed down as I try to get my kids caught up in homeschooling and my body feels the neglect.

Balance? I don’t think it exists and my “hat”analogy is okay but there’s no way to switch all those hats every single day, so some of them, my very favorite, get left on the self to collect dust.

I feel like I’ve done a 180 in the writing arena from 5 years ago. Instead of spending hours and hours thinking and writing, I’m lucky if I sit down for an hour a week. My WIPs have made the rounds, several times and I’m in the waiting stage, again, trying to start a new WIP as I read tweets and blogs of writing moms who do all I do AND MORE and STILL have multiple contracts. The “why not me” monster tends to rear it’s ugly head every couple of months, but here’s the twist in my response… a part of me doesn’t even care anymore about that illusive book deal, doesn’t even really want it like I used to want it. Who needs the stress and who has the time to do what it takes to get it done? But the feeling of being “less” still crops up. Less of a writer, less of a blogger, less worthy to receive the blessing, less of a good mother despite the fact I’m spending more time doing what a mother should…less.

Sure, it’s the seed of the enemy, but he’s working with what he’s got and reminding me of the “Nos” and all the “lesses” in my life, and how many of my forty years have been filled with Nos! Let’s just say way more than I care to dwell on.

Crawling back in my cave now until there’s something more exciting, thought provoking or depressing to blog about!

I’m still processing all the wonderful and ambiguous things that happened at ACFW this year. Every ACFW has a different feel and every time I go, I have a different need. I’m a different person, a little further on my writing journey, but not necessarily closer to the finish line.

This year I felt disconnected at ACFW. I’m not sure what it was exactly, but I think it was a combination of not having a finished manuscript to pitch, throwing some new proposals together two weeks before I boarded the plane and having the hotel be so darn big! Don’t get me wrong, the Marriott Denver Tech Center was beautiful and the staff wonderful and gracious, it’s just I felt so small. I’m not sure if that too was due to the large facilities or the place I feel I’m at in my writing journey. But for me, something was missing.

At times I felt like I was a stranger looking through the windows of someone’s home, wondering about the people laughing inside. Longing to be a part of the festivities, but feeling like an outsider. Maybe it’s because I’m an introvert who longs to be with others, but feels like a third wheel. Maybe it’s because I haven’t developed deep and real relationships with other writers at ACFW. Maybe it’s because there’s some sort of connection still missing and I just don’t know what it is. Maybe I’m longing for something that is not mine.

Other times I felt confident and social, and honestly, those were the best times! I felt wanted and included and thought to myself, this is what ACFW should be about. Reaching out to others, those wandering around feeling like they too are on the outside looking in. So I sought others like myself and stepped out of my comfort zone to bring comfort to someone else. I was blessed by it.

And finally, I felt humbled and in awe of a God who answers prayers and comforts us in our time of need. I’d been praying specifically for an open door with an editor and though I had the chance to approach this person several times, I didn’t feel it was right. But instead of opening a door, God threw open a window and invited me to climb through. His plan was much better than my own. I’m not sure if anything will come of it, but the unexpected answer to prayer was exactly what I needed when I least expected it. Isn’t that just like God?

So am I any closer to getting published than I was a year ago? I’m not sure. Several editors requested my proposals, but whether or not anything comes of it is a mystery. All I can do is keep writing, and let God do the rest. And maybe, just maybe, when I least expect it God will tell me it’s time!