Is It Supposed To Hurt This Much?

Tags

Faith, Feelings, Inspiration, Life, Truth

That was a text I got from my daughter a few hours into labour.

“Is it supposed to hurt this much?”

I wanted to laugh, but I didn’t. Because, yes. It is.

And it does.

And it will continue to.

With every challenge that comes with being a parent. Being a mother or father or husband or wife or grandparent or just being . . . living this life.

Life hurts this much. Is it supposed to? I don’t know.

I wish I could say with complete certainty that no, no it’s not supposed to, but what do I do with that when it does? What do I do when life takes an unexpected turn and everything goes off the rails and we’re suddenly facing down giants we never imagined existed? What do I do when there aren’t any answers to all my pathetic questions and all I feel is inexplicable anger and confusion and sadness and there’s no STOP button?

Is it supposed to hurt this much?

 “‘Cause you can’t jump the track,we’re like cars on a cable
And life’s like an hourglass, glued to the table
No one can find the rewind button girl,
So cradle your head in your hands
And breathe, just breathe,
Oh breathe, just breathe . . . ”

That soulful Anna Nalick song from years back still gets me every time.

‘Cause you can’t jump the tracks.

Cradle your head in your hands. And breathe. Just breathe.

Breathe out all the fears and all the prayers that can’t be voiced because the words won’t come. Breathe them out and hope they’re heard anyway.

As long as we still have breath, we still have life. Hope. I think this is still true. I’m trying to convince myself it is. Trying to convince myself that all this, these unforeseen challenges our family is facing, is happening for a reason. Though for the life of me I can’t make sense of it.

I wrote on my Facebook page a week or so ago that I feel like a bad Christian when life hurts too much and I just don’t get it. I feel like I’m supposed to hold my head high and slap on a smile and say something like this too shall pass, God is in control, we’ll just keep praying . . . but honest? I don’t feel the assurance I think I’m supposed to. And I get that knot in my stomach as fear rises and everything I thought I believed in is pushed beyond the limit. Faith is tested. And faltering.

Is it supposed to hurt this much? 

I’ve been in this place before, under different circumstances. And I thought that valley was bad. My lamentations then were nothing compared to this current feeling of helplessness. Desperate to fix things that you have no power over and trying to be strong because they need you to be but all you feel is small and weak most days, and nights are long and restless, filled with unpleasant thoughts and clammy, clinging fear.

And yet still I know others walk a road filled with obstacles far greater than the ones we face. Their giants loom larger and more menacing, their nightmares far more frightening. But this road, our road? It’s still hard. It’s still rough and winding and treacherous in its own way and some days feels impossible to traverse. And I guess we can own that. I guess it’s okay to want to find a detour, a short cut, a better way. But when there isn’t one?

You gotta keep going.

I learned this lesson a long time gone and now I know it’s the only way forward. One foot in front of the other. One day at a time. And if you need a hand to hold onto or another ten feet of rope because yours is frayed and that knot you tied in desperation is slowly coming unraveled?

Yell for more rope.

“And Moses, Aaron, and Hur went to the top of the hill. It turned out that whenever Moses raised his hands, Israel was winning, but whenever he lowered his hands, Amalek was winning. But Moses’ hands got tired. So they got a stone and set it under him. He sat on it and Aaron and Hur held up his hands, one on each side. So his hands remained steady until the sun went down.” Exodus 17: 10-13

I love this scene, this vision of old Moses losing strength, unable to lift his hands one more time. And there come his friends alongside him, grab hold tight and lift his arms for him. This picture I get in my head kind of makes me cry a little. Because I’m so grateful for my Exodus 17 friends. The ones who hold you up when you can’t stand anymore. The ones who pray when your voice is gone, throat too tight to speak. The ones who reach out even when there’s really nothing to say, just to let you know they’re there. And they don’t mind when you ask the same question over and over again.

Is it supposed to hurt this much? 

Maybe. If only for this reason. To see the good in others, to know love and concern and realize the world isn’t so bad after all, and to be heard and seen and understood and held up in thought and prayer. And to know that when the tables turn, as they surely will, you can be there in that way for them . . . so maybe it is.

Maybe it is.

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Being The Grown-Up In The Room

Tags

Blogging, Inspiration, Life, Relationships, Truth

I read this excellent post on Jen Hatmaker’s Facbook page yesterday. She talked about looking for the grown-up in the room, i.e. the person not arguing, not using childish banter to go on the attack, the person others look to because they’re talking sense.

Sometimes you have to be that person. Sometimes you have to be the grown-up.

And that, my friends, is no easy task. Let’s think about it. How many times over the last few months have you felt shut down because what you wanted to say fell on deaf ears? How many times have you tried to use your voice for good and had it turned and twisted until your original thoughts looked nothing like the words being thrown back at you? How many times have you lost it, and not been the grown-up?

Yeah. Me too.

The things we are experiencing as a culture, in the United States and around the world, are unprecedented. I’ve never witnessed so much hostility, sometimes downright hatefulness, and vitriol on social media, ever, and I’ve been on it since forever. It is shocking and sad that our interactions have ceased to be pleasant. I know friends that have quit altogether. And honest? I miss their voices. Because they had something important to say, but nobody wanted to hear it. And so, rather than continuing to shout into the wind, they retreated.

I’ve kind of done the same. I go back and forth on the Facebook thing. But honestly, I love it for what it used to be. I love it for the interactions with good friends and family, and the writing groups I belong to. So now when I interact, I’m looking for the grown-ups. Looking for folks who are having open-minded discussions about current events without the entire thing turning nuclear. Because I think it’s important that we keep talking about these things, even if it’s hard. Even if it hurts. But we need to get to place of understanding. And I’m trying to be the grown-up too, and not post every thing that’s on my mind. Which again, is not easy, because sometimes . . . oh I’m tempted to let my inner-child come out to play.

Sometimes being the grown-up means taking a stand.

I believe it does. I believe we need to keep speaking out against those things that are wrong. I believe if we are truly convicted about something, we must speak out. To say nothing would be to silence our own voice. Which is what those who disagree so vehemently want. They don’t want to hear the truth. When two sides are in heated argument, neither side believes the other might have a point, and nobody wins. And yet, I think to stick one’s head in the sand and wait for the madness to pass is probably just as bad. Because it won’t. If anything, it’s going to get worse. I’d love to see more honest and open discussions about the things that are happening instead of the flame-throwing.

Being the grown-up means being in control. 

I remember those days when my kids would go off into full-blown temper tantrums. And wasn’t it tempting to grab their little shoulders and get right up in their face and shout right back? Oh, yeah. But what would that have accomplished? Nothing but an even longer, louder and most certainly angrier tantrum. And I’d probably go to bed early with a whopping headache. No. Sometimes you just have to wait it out. If you can’t be heard, walk away. Be the grown-up. And if you’re not being heard yet you still feel the need to speak, think very carefully about the words you post. This is especially difficult in the heat of the moment. So maybe come back to that topic later. When you don’t want to toss a chair through a window.

Don’t give up.

As with any great paradigm shift where it suddenly feels as though the entire world is off-kilter and there’s a vast majority that simply don’t see it, it’s tempting to give up. Tempting to go off and find a little hobbit hole someplace and just stay there. At least for the next four years. But don’t give up. Because for all the crazy, there’s still good happening. You just have to look a little harder. And sometimes you can be that good thing that happened to somebody today. You can encourage, smile, love, share your humor and your fancy self and just be that good thing this old world so desperately needs.

We’re all tired. 

Enough said. So let’s find something fun to do. I’m embarking on a month of personal challenge. I’m shutting out the noise, taking back control of what I eat and drink, exercising more, and I’m hoping to find some more inner peace in the process. I’ve also given myself that 30 days in which to complete this manuscript I’m working on. I’m being the grown-up. I’m making the rules. And I think I’ll be a whole lot happier at the end of it, whether I’ve achieved those goals or not. Because I tried. And really, that’s all any of us can do.

Are you working for change in your life and your community? Are you trying to be the grown-up? I’d love to hear your thoughts.

The Birth of A Book, Some Reality Checks, And A Really Pretty Picture

Tags

Catherine West, Harper Collins Christian Publishing, NetGalley, The Things We Knew, TNZFiction, Writing

So you wrote a book. And it’s pretty darn good, if you do say so yourself. You spend a bit of time spit polishing it up, but overall, this baby is THE ONE. You just know it. You send it off to your agent, he or she loves it, they immediately rush it off to the publisher of your dreams, and they love it too and BAM! Your book is born!!

Well. Yeah.

(Reality Check #1 – Your life isn’t a Nicholas Sparks novel).

That’s a nice little dream, isn’t it? I don’t know what the exact stats are, but I suspect this happy story of immediate gratification only happens to less than 0.5% of authors.

I was not one of them.

As you may know, if you’ve been reading this blog or follow me on Facebook, I’m slightly giddy-over-the-moon-stupidly-excited about the release of my upcoming novel, The Things We Knew, coming to you July 12th, from TNZ Fiction (Harper Collins Christian Publishing) – that’s 77 days from today, but who’s counting? 🙂

And it didn’t happen overnight. Didn’t happen in a year. Or even two.

I believe, if old emails can be trusted, that I sent the first final draft (you know, the this-is-the best-book-I-ever-wrote, one) of The Things We Knew to my agent in May 2011. It had a different title back then, and the story was slightly different, but I thought it was all that. Apparently I was wrong. (Reality Check#2 – When you think you’re all that, you ain’t).

Because that was five years ago. FIVE. Yes, you read that right. It was a good story, but it wasn’t hitting all the right notes. So, with my wonderful agent’s help and guidance, we did some more work. (Reality Check#3 – Writing = WORK. Lots and lots of work).

What followed were several edited versions of my beloved story, and then a handful of rejections – a few encouraging, but the ‘not quite what we’re looking for’ ones.

(Reality Check#4 – You WILL get rejected. Probably more than once. Get over it).

Then, after a few more rejections, we decided to go with a professional edit in 2013, (which I highly recommend by the way, before you submit that baby!), and we started the submission process all over again, and  then finally . . . FINALLY . . . the offer from Harper Collins Christian Publishing  (my dream publisher!) in 2015. Several titles, versions, and a whole lot of angst later, a book is born.

Was it worth the work and the waiting?

You bet.

(Reality Check#5 – sometimes investments pay off, if you hang in there).

So I’m not telling you any of this to discourage you, just to say, you know, this book thing, it’s not easy. Not by a long shot. Any idiot can write a book. But . . . perhaps well, that’s a post for another day. Or not. (Let’s just go with just because you can, doesn’t mean you should and leave it at that).

I guess what I really want you to come away with is this – IF this is your dream, don’t give up. If you know you’re called to do this thing, do it. The book you love may not be the first book you publish. I published three other books while I was working on this one, and wrote 2 more. Keep busy. But keep the dream alive. Do whatever it takes to make it happen, and don’t listen to negative people.

My journey has been long and rather complicated, and if you’re not familiar with it, you can get the gist here. Much as I wanted to give up, I didn’t. And I kept my goal in sight, kept working, and praying and listening, and trusting. Hard, hard stuff when things aren’t working out the way you hoped. I know.

And sometimes things don’t work out the way you want. I know that too. But I also know that if you’re in that place, God has something better for you. Really. As trite as that may sound when you’re down there, it has been my experience time and again. So please, don’t give up. Don’t ever give up.

So back to my story – and it’s happy ending – needless to say I’m so grateful that I didn’t give up my dream of working with a publisher I’d long admired and hoped to call my own some day. I’m beyond grateful for family, friends and an agent who believed in me 100% and kept telling me this would happen. And I’m so glad I didn’t give up on this story. Because now? Well, it’s a real book.

And it looks like this . . .

If that’s not the prettiest thing I ever did see . . .

Sigh.

Hard to believe that this baby will be out in the world in July! Oh, and if you really can’t wait for July, and you’re a NetGalley user, it’s available to download on their website. (And early reviews are appreciated! 🙂 ).

Well, that’s my Monday happy for you beautiful people.

Moral of the story – Don’t Give Up. Ever.

Because you just never know.

Right?

Conversation in A Coffee Shop

Tags

Encouragement, Writing Journey, Writing Life

I see her there. This sad reflection of myself. Sitting.

Alone.

Alone only with her thoughts and the icon flashing fierce on the blank screen.

Cautiously I slide into the seat opposite her. Offer coffee. And a smile of recognition.

“Hello, writer.”

She looks up, bleary eyed. Befuddled. “How did you know?”

The question sighs from her, sings over the casual conversation around us and lands with a deflated thud that shakes my soul.

“Thought it would be so easy, huh?”

“I did. I actually did.” A half laugh escapes and tears come. She swipes at them, angry. “At first it was fun, you know? Because I didn’t really know what I was doing and who cared anyway and then  . . . and then it got real. And all these . . . stupid expectations  . . .” She shrugs and sips, leaving it unfinished.

I know. 

“You think you can’t measure up. Think you’re going to fail.”

“I do.” The whispered words widen her eyes. Her lower lip trembles just a tad. And it makes my heart ache. “God, it’s terrifying. You know?”

Yes.

“I know.” That I can relax into the thought, even smile, seems astounding. Yet here we are. “You’re not going to fail.”

“Yeah?” A grin comes out of hiding and hints at hope. “What makes you so smart?”

“Oh.” I push fingers through my hair and wonder that I’ve any left. “Years of practice. Years of staring at that same blank page, wondering if the words will ever come. Wondering if I’ve really got what it takes to do this. Wondering how fast I can fall off the planet if I don’t.”

“Well, you’re still here obviously.”

“Obviously.” A shared smile seems to lighten the air. “Can I tell you something?”

Her eyes narrow with an almost imperceptible shake of her head. “I don’t suppose I can stop you.”

“Not really.”

“Well, go on then,” she huffs after a moment.

I lean in a little, because this is important. I don’t want her to miss it. “Screw them.”

“What?” I can tell she wants to laugh at the audacity of those words, but doesn’t. Stares back at me like I’ve lost my mind though.

I nod, serious. “Just what I said. Don’t study that pile of expectations a moment longer. Forget who wants what from you. Forget who said what and why. Don’t give the critics any more leverage, any more power. Seriously. They can’t touch you. Do this for you. Not for anyone else.”

“Easy for you to say.”

“Not really.”

 

The challenge crests, almost within her grasp. Yet doubt still dances in her eyes. It’s in that moment, that infinite spilt second between rejecting truth and taking hold, that I remember.

It’s a leap of faith.

And if you want to finish the race, you have to take it.

“Some days I forget what it’s like,” she admits. “Believing in myself. Knowing this is what I was made for. Some days I forget what it was like at the beginning. When it was fun.”

“Hey.” I tap the top of her laptop. “You want it fun? Stop listening to all the crazy and kick that fear the heck out of there. Otherwise it’ll chain you down. And where’s the freedom in that?”

“That’s funny.” Elbows on the table, she rests her chin in her hands. “That’s why I started in the first place, you know. To give the words their freedom.”

“Exactly.”

“And I was good.”

“Still are.”

“You really think I can do this?” She sits back, shoulders a little straighter. A spark settles in her eyes and I let out my breath.

“You already are.” It had to be said. And finally she nods.

“I am, aren’t I?” And then she smiles.

A smile that stretches wide like doors flung open on a spring morning to let in fresh new air.

“And even if I fail, well, there’s no shame in that. Because I tried. And I’ll know I did my very best. And that’s all anybody can ask for, really, isn’t it?”

“It is indeed.” And the words are more for me now. Because I needed the reminder.

“Okay?” I reach my hand out and she clasps it tight.

“Let’s do it.”

So we will soldier on. Together.

Victory sidles up and slaps us both on the back.

Hello, writers. Welcome home. 

 

If You Don’t Know Me By Now …

Tags

Being Real, Catherine West, Christian Living, Encouragement, Writing, Writing Life

We’re almost at the mid-point of the year and I’m … re-grouping. Breathing deep and re-evaluating, sorting boxes in my head and sticking to what is true. Discarding what is not. Figuring out who this girl really is. I haven’t always known for sure. Fear of failure and self-doubt swirl like monster waves and I’ve had to dive deep to find real answers. I’ve had to cling to truth like a life raft and kick off lies that circle like hungry sharks.

That gets tiring.

I’m resting now. Trying to enjoy a few months of peace before I jump into edits and start preparing for the launch of my first book with Thomas Nelson next July. And, yes, I’m still grinning when I write that. But I know it’s not going to be easy. Changes must be made. Ironically, my word for the year is change. Go figure.

Can I give the world my stories and hide in the shadows of shaky self-confidence, hoping maybe no-one notices I’m even back there pressed against the wall? Truth be told, I like it here in my little hobbit hole. The world can be a scary place, and oftentimes I’m more content to let it sail on by without me. I prefer to hold it all at arm’s length. If you don’t get too close to the fire, you won’t get burned.

But, as I’ve learned, sooner or later you wake up smack dab in the middle of that fire. And the only way out is to walk through. And you rarely come out unchanged.

Refiner’s Fire … 

If you’ve grown up in the church or are part of it now, you hear that term thrown around a lot. There are Scripture references to it, but my basic understanding is that, like silver, we are refined (purified, made better), by the fire. Life’s challenges, trials and temptations. How we go through them shapes us, empowers us and pushes us forward into new and better places. So I’m looking down at the coals I’ve dragged out with me … a pile of them actually, from every fire I’ve walked through, and I wonder if I just don’t get it. I wonder if I still resent those hard times, those crazy weird and wildly terrifying times when I didn’t know which end was up or if I’d even come out the other side okay. I wonder, maybe, if I resist the refining, because I’m not sure I can be all I’m supposed to be. All God wants me to be. Whatever that looks like.

My daughter took this recent picture of me. I loathe getting my picture taken, but I needed some new shots for this new stage of my life, and I’m posting this here as an exercise in confidence. (But no, I don’t want this slapped on the side of a bus). Still I see beyond what others do. I know too much about myself and it’s easy to be critical. Because I’m still kicking coals and carrying bags of crap I should have dumped years ago.

Don’t Be Too Honest …

I’ve heard that. People don’t want to know all your business, and there’s just some stuff you keep to yourself. Yeah, okay. I get that. But I don’t know, I figure if I have to put myself out there, if I’m going to ask you to trust me as an author, I want you to know who I am. As a person, and a writer. And maybe you’ll share some of your stuff with me too.

Maybe I’m off base here. Maybe I should use this blog space in a different way. Maybe I shouldn’t blog at all. Blogs aren’t as big as they were a few years ago and it might just be a big waste of time. But if you’re here reading and have been for awhile, you know I don’t much care for convention.

You’ll know I don’t sugarcoat. What you get from me is pretty real, pretty raw, and sometimes, yeah, too personal. Read my books and you’ll get the same. Reality fiction.

As my friend Beth said to me last week in reference to my writing, “You don’t snorkel, you scuba dive.” I like the analogy. I’m trying to grasp the confidence to enjoy it, and know it’s true. Because I’m figuring out that this is who I am. You’d think I’d know it by now. Think I’d quit running from it already. But here we are.

I’m accepting the fact that I’m flawed, but show me someone who isn’t. And maybe growing up means getting comfortable in your own skin. Liking me for me. It’s a challenge most days. But I’m willing to keep at it. Willing to accept that I matter. Willing to acknowledge that my words matter. That the stories I have to tell are important and might touch lives. And the fact that I get to share them? To me, that’s a gift. One that I can only hope will be well received.

So today I’m pouring shots of confidence. On the house.

And those coals? They just got kicked back where they belong.

 

And Sometimes Dreams Come True …

Tags

Catherine West Author, Contract Signing, Publishing Journey

Warning. This is going to be rather long.

But hey, it’s my blog. And I’ve waited a long time for this.

So … about 20 years ago, I decided to get serious about becoming a published author. At the time, it was quite a dream. I had so much to learn, so much to absorb, and honestly, I didn’t know where to start. The point is, I started. I started to chase that dream and I didn’t stop. And I don’t think I ever will. Because I know now, this is what I was born to do. Write. Tell stories that matter. Make a difference.

My first book released in 2011, my second in 2012, (2 re-releases of those books in 2014) and my third in 2015. I’ve experienced working with a small publisher, and more recently, publishing independently. But, from the beginning, my dream, the one I got serious about all those years ago, has always been to partner with a major publisher who believed in what I had to say.

Today, I’m beyond thrilled to be able to say that dream has come true.

I’ve signed a contract with Harper Collins Christian Publishing! I can’t really describe how this feels, except to say surreal and more than a little amazing. And I can’t thank them enough for making this author’s dream a reality. And now the fun really begins …

A while ago, a friend asked me why it mattered so much, this dream. Doors had closed once again, and I’m sure I was moaning about how hard this business is, and probably threw in a few thoughts about giving up. But the question threw me. Why did it matter so much? I put some words down and pushed them around awhile. And then I realized why. Why it all mattered so very much.

Because I want it. 

And sometimes it’s just that simple. I knew the world wouldn’t end if I never got that elusive contract. I knew I’d still continue to write, and somehow soldier on and I would survive it, the disappointment, the feeling of failure. But all the ups and downs and craziness of being in this business … I don’t know. Somehow, last year, it really got to me. And I almost gave up. I almost walked away, and convinced myself it didn’t matter. And then I answered that darn question. Why does it matter?

And I knew it wasn’t about the contracts, the publishing house or even the wonderful gift of being able to reach readers with the words God gives me. It was about validation. For me and this dream I had. Plain and simple.

This moment, right now? Where I’m sitting here in a haze, still not quite willing to believe it? This is years of being picked last for the team. Years of whispered comments behind hands and unkind laughter. Years of wanting to fit in, and knowing I didn’t. And finally convincing myself it was all okay. But it wasn’t. To my young self, at that time in my life, those snubs impacted me in ways I would not realize until my later years.

Rejection.

It’s my biggest trigger, and I’ve had lots of experience with it. A. Lot. Figured I’d choose to be in a business where it happens all the time. All. The. Time. And it’s not personal. Really. Took me a long time to figure that one out. But maybe that’s all part of this crazy process of figuring out who I am.

I am not a loser. I matter. 

I learned that lesson the hard way, and I still need the reminder on a daily basis, but eventually it’ll stick. And eventually I found my tribe. My 2AM friends who’d walk over hot coals for me and know I’d do the same for them. Those people who listened to the dream and didn’t tell me it was stupid. The ones who believed in me. For me. So this victory, this celebration, I know they’re in it. They’re hooting and hollering just as loud as I am. There’s a congo line a mile long out there. But really, this is about proving something to myself. Because it’s the one thing I’ve wanted, the one thing I’ve worked so hard for, the one thing that hooked me hard and wouldn’t let me go, even when I ripped it apart and threw it away, again and again.

This dream come true says I did it. I didn’t give up.

And I know some of you are shrugging and thinking well, how nice for you. And that’s okay. I know. I feel it. And I’m sorry. It’s a bitter pill. I’ve been there more times than you’ll know. It’s hard to smile and say congratulations when it’s your dream too, and your victory still seems so far away. Don’t give up. Don’t let it go. The harder it gets, the sweeter the reward will be at the end.

So … I have to these people to thank, these people who helped make this happen.

First of all, my amazing family.

My husband, Stephen – my greatest hero – it’s hard to put into words here how I feel. Without your love and rock solid support, I’d be completely lost.I’d go on another paragraph, but I know you’re tired of reading already.

My Dad and stepmom, your support is invaluable to me. My daughter, Sarah, and her husband Randy, my son Chris and his girlfriend Deni … wow. You guys are more than I deserve. Somehow you put up with me through all this, and still believed that one day would come. I’m still in awe that God has blessed me with such wonderful people to call my own.

My friend and agent, Rachelle Gardner – oh, my word. You want this woman in your corner.

From the moment she took me on as a client, which was more than a few years ago, she never gave up. Even when all doors seemed closed, she refused to throw in the towel. I can’t tell you how much that kind of faith in me and my writing has meant over the years. Rachelle, your guidance, advice, wisdom and the occasional reality check (okay, there were many), have pulled me through a lot of dark spots in this journey. Thank you from the bottom of my heart for your friendship and faith that this would happen. You and the Books & Such team mean so much to me, and all the Bookies.

They say it takes a village. And it does.

I have so many friends I need to acknowledge in this space that I’m afraid of leaving someone out! But if you’re not mentioned by name, I hope you know who you are anyway. People who saw something from the start, helped me hone my writing and told me time and again not to give up – writer friends and mentors like Deborah Raney, Susan May Warren, Jenness Walker, Becky Yauger, Betsy St.Amant, and countless other ACFW friends. The gang at YWG, your support and encouragement, laughter love and prayers were much needed and always appreciated. My Spice Girls – general hilarity is good for the soul, and you know that well – you are true women of faith and you live that out every day.

I’m beyond blessed to call you all friends.

Beth Vogt – what can I say? A random encounter outside an elevator at a conference made a friend for life – who would have thunk it? God ordained this friendship from the beginning, and I couldn’t have made it through without you. Truly. You are the best.

Breathe, breathe, breathe …

Jennifer Major, my Canadian soul sister – you deserve a medal for putting up with me. But I’m so glad you do. Thanks for listening, talking, laughing and crying with me, and being on the other end, always. Your day is coming, my friend. Believe it.

My sister, Pam. I’m still rejoicing that I can say that. My sister. You’ve been there for me from the moment we first met, and I have no doubt you were with me in spirit long before that. God has truly blessed me by giving you to me. I’m so glad we get to do life together.

My best friend in the world, Lee Anne. What haven’t we been through? Since we were in first grade together … we’ve grown up, grown apart, and gotten back together. You’re my rock, my anchor and the end of the rope when mine runs out. You’re my sister in spirit and I wouldn’t be here without your continual cheerleading. You are my ace girl. Don’t ever leave.

And of course, none of this would be possible without God’s orchestration. My awesome Father and Savior, my comfort and strength. He goes before me, every step of the way. He is with me, when I fall, when I succeed, when I have no idea which end is up … He keeps on loving, is always faithful and always provides, far beyond my meager expectations.

And so … sometimes dreams come true.

When It Gets Real … Get Grateful

Tags

Dreams, Grateful, Inspiration, Waiting, Writing, Writing Life

That dream? You know the one. The one you’ve held tight to, let go of, buried and unburied and brushed off too many times … that dream you sometimes wouldn’t share with anyone because it scared even you? That dream you maybe cried over, prayed over, cursed and called yourself names over … because somehow you knew, deep down, it would never happen. The one that hovered close sometimes, yet still so out of reach.

Pipe dreams. Pie in the sky dreams.

Sure we all have them. And I don’t know, I happen to like dreams. It’s fun to imagine the impossible. You know?

Call me a sucker for punishment if you will, but I’ve always been a dreamer. But it’s a dangerous line, the walk between a dream and an obsession. Sometimes we’re called to let go of those dreams. Sometimes they grow like weeds and take over everything else, choking good roots and covering new growth. I’ve had to do a lot of weeding. Leaves the hands dirty, mud-caked and bleeding a little.

When you travel the road of self-doubt and insecurity as I so often do, its hard to hold onto those dreams. The good ones. Its hard to believe those well-meaning friends when they tell you not to give up. Tell you you’re really going to make it, you’ve got what it takes. And you wonder if they’ve had just a few too many that day because surely … surely if that were true … it would have happened by now. Right?

And so you shove them off and tell them to go find another simpleton to sell a bridge to. But they don’t quit. Those friends. Those lifelines you have that somehow love you, the real you, like you wouldn’t believe. But you know they do because they’re still here, still hanging in there and saying those things. Still reaching out through the darkness, grabbing your hand and holding tight. And they don’t quit. They don’t quit because they believe in you and they want … sometimes demand, yeah you know who you are … they pretty much up in your face order you to believe in yourself too.

So you don’t give up that dream. Because maybe it was never really an option. And so, eventually, it turns into a goal.

See, this is where things change. Because dreams are cloud puffs on blue sky that make you smile in slumber. And goals? Well, you gotta work for those. You’ve got to get behind that thing and push. Push with all your might. Push with everything you’ve got and then some. Even when it hurts and you don’t think you can go one more day doing what you’re doing because it doesn’t make sense anymore. And those friends? Well they come back around. And they help you push too. Because they want you to finish this thing. To finish strong.

That’s when it gets real.

That’s when you grab hold and go … go because you know you’ve come this far … you don’t get to the finish line and quit. You’ve got to keep going because ____ ? You fill in that blank.

For me, it’s about proving something to myself. Showing that shy little girl that she really does have what it takes. She is worth this. She’s just as good as anybody else out there and maybe, maybe even better.

For me, its about looking back at a trail of broken dreams and promises and things left undone, and not doing that this time. It’s about believing. And when that believing turns to knowing … what freedom there is in that … its so overwhelming I can’t find the words.

I can’t tell you why I’m sitting here smiling stupidly, have been for days. I can’t tell you yet. And I’m frustrated by that because you know I’ve got this thing with patience, and we’re duking it out, have been for years, and I suck at waiting. But this time? This wait? It’s okay. Because over and over I’m hearing this … “wait, it’ll come … this is just between us for now … because its that awesome … stay here with Me in this moment … “

And. Wow. Yes.

That’s when it gets real. When you know beyond any doubt, you’re sitting in the midst of a miracle. Your miracle. A gift you asked for and maybe thought somewhere along the way you deserved because you worked so darn hard for it … but deep down you know you don’t deserve anything. Not really. Yet here you are.

And yeah, thanks be to God.

And thanks be to you, my friends, because you refused to give up, you refused to let me give up.

You believed in me and for me and you let me rail and rant and go all kinds of crazy on you.

And you just kept on loving.

And I can’t say thank you enough for that, but I will anyway.

A million times over.

Secrets And Second Chances

Tags

Courage, Encouragement, Faith, Secerts, Second Chances

I shared this post over at INSPY Romance last week, thought it was worth the repost.

“I didn’t lie, exactly, I just didn’t tell you the truth.”

Ever heard that before? Ever thought it? Said it? Done it?

You don’t have to raise your hand. We’re all friends here, right?

Secrets are funny things. Sometimes they can be good, like a surprise you’re planning for a friend or spouse, a birthday party or a trip out of town – the good kind of secret that it’s okay to keep. And then there are the other kinds of secrets. The ones that keep us up at night, haunt our waking hours and gnaw at that place deep inside until we just … can’t … take it anymore.

Maybe you have no idea what I’m talking about. Maybe you’re just so honest that you’ve never kept one of those sticky secrets. Never had to. But chances are, somebody you know has. And maybe they had good reason. But what’s that old saying? It all comes out in the wash … Or something like that.

And then what?

Okay, here’s my confession. I love writing about this stuff. I really do. Maybe there’s something wrong with me, but I love putting my characters in the most awful situations. Taking them places they never dreamed of going, pushing them down into deep dark tunnels that seem unending. I like to let them wallow in depths of despair, if you will.

Why? Am I just a little warped perhaps? No. At least I don’t think I am.

You see, in real life, sooner or later, we all go there. We all find ourselves in spots that make us uncomfortable, places we never ever imagined we’d wind up in, and we know we have no business being there, but by the time we figure that out, we’re not sure how to get out. Or how to tell anyone about it.

Secrets … whatever they may be, big or small … the secrets we keep can lead us into sin. But here’s the thing – and it’s really cool, so pay attention – God’s grace is bigger than any secret we can hide.

Seriously. How amazing is that? Yeah, you know, right? You’ve experienced it. He’s brought you out of that dark place, revealed the secrets that shadowed your every move, dealt with you and them, and wiped them away. Clean. Gone. Like it never happened.

Except it did and sometimes the guilt comes crawling back around, threatens to jump you and take you down. Right? And then you’re on your knees again.

Grace. Mercy. Forgiveness. Don’t we all struggle with the magnitude of those words? Don’t we all, at some point, wonder whether we’re really truly deserving of such astounding love?

I do. My characters do. And I’m pretty sure sometimes you do too.

This is why I write. This is why I let my characters go to those deep dark places. Because I know what it feels like down there. And I know what rescue and mercy and forgiveness feel like too. And oh, I so desperately want you, my friends, to know that feeling. To truly accept that there is nothing you can do, no secret you can bury, that could ever diminish the depths of God’s great love for you.

It’s a journey, isn’t it? Sometimes it’s so long and tiring and we just want to give up. But then someone comes along and grabs your hand and offers a smile, and you know you can do this. This thing called life.

We can do it together.

Are you willing?

Game on.

Will You Give It Up?

Tags

Faith, Hope, Obedience, Sacrifice, Trust

Reading through my blog posts lately, I had a thought. Wow, this is depressing. Okay, yeah, that was my thought, but I kind of giggled afterward. Not just because it’s true, but because it’s been so much a part of my journey of late. All these challenges, battles and trials, the wondering, the waiting.

And sometimes it’s hard isn’t it, to sit and wait, to know that this is all you can do. Your only option. You’ve done everything else and then some, and now … now?

Will You Give It Up? 

I can see you, pressing your lips together, curling into that tight ball, putting your hands over your ears. Because I’ve been there too. And not so long ago. And when you’re there, in that state, that panicked end of the road can’t take another step state … this is not the question you want to hear.

But maybe it’s the question you need to answer. 

I don’t know your story. I don’t know what it is you’re holding so tight to. What that thing is that means so much that you think you might just die if it doesn’t happen. Well, you won’t. You might feel like that now, but take it from me, you won’t.

Sometimes it’s the very things we think we need the most that keep us from loving the things we already have.

Because we get caught up in the whole cycle of why … why isn’t this happening, why isn’t that email showing up, why aren’t I good enough, and so on and so forth. Why can be a constructive and necessary question, but it can also trip us up. Because sometimes there aren’t answers. And sometimes the ones that come don’t make sense.

Will You Give It Up? 

It still rings in my ears. The day I heard it. The question that threw me on my back and pinned me there until I had to answer. And by that point I knew there was only one answer I could give. Yes. Y. E. S. Because I’d been holding on, holding tight, satisfied in my stubbornness that somehow I – me, myself and I, because I’m all that and a bag of chips – could magically make this thing work out. Uh, no. Sorry to disappoint you, self, but you don’t have that kind of power. And clutching tight and even hiding it behind your back because you’ve said you’ve let it go a million times over already, yeah, that doesn’t work. People know you too well.

God knows you too well. 

And the crazy thing is, He waits. He waits and waits and waits until you’re finally spent of tears and done with the screaming and there’s nothing left to do except hand the thing over. Simple obedience. And if that’s not an oxymoron I don’t know what is. But then what? If there’s nothing left to wait for, nothing more to fight for, what? What am I supposed to do now?

Try living.

Yeah, it’s a crazy concept. But it’s kind of amazing, the freedom in that. The giving it up. Because you’re not dragged down anymore, right? You’re not lugging around that rusty ball and chain or carting all that crap on your back … you’re free … oh, man, do you know what that feels like? Can you even imagine it?

And sometimes … sometimes when you’re dancing in the delight of truly knowing … really experiencing the miracle of life to the full … sometimes the strangest things happen.

And God laughs in delight at your astonishment.

To be continued …

What If … ?

Tags

Being Real, Believe, Choices, Christian Living

What if?

That’s how you start a story. Did you know? What if? It’s such a simple theory, yet so often hard to grasp. Because there are a million what-ifs, and how do you know which one fits? How do you know which one is just right, for you? Sometimes you don’t. Sometimes the story chooses you. Sometimes it wasn’t the one you wanted to write, yet here you are, stuck in the middle and you have no idea what’s coming next or even worse, how it’s all going to end.

What if? 

There is audacious beauty in the question. At least I think so. Because there are a million answers … and the thing of it is … the best thing of all? We get to choose. We, the author, get to choose whether Character A ends up with Character B or Character C lives or dies or whether it will all turn out okay in the end. We plot and weave words and finally … however long it takes … we finally sit back and declare that it is good. It is exactly how it was supposed to be. And sometimes you share it, that story. Sometimes you don’t. And that’s okay too.

What if?

… Life isn’t a story you can write? Hmm. But sometimes it is. I mean, think about it. Don’t we all exert control over our destinies in some way shape or form? Yes, I believe there is a grand plan and I believe God is in control of that. But I also believe we have choices. And sometimes we make bad ones.

What if you’re so busy running your life, plotting every single detail, making multiple pass throughs to check for grammatical error, plot holes and sentence structure … what if you’re so caught up in making the thing perfect, that somewhere along the way, you realize you’ve forgotten how to just live … what if? 

 

‘

What if, today, what if, right now, you made a choice. What if you chose to live this thing out, intentionally, with purpose, no matter what … what would that look like? Maybe you know. Maybe you’re already doing it. Maybe you’re one of the lucky ones who has it all together and leads the way, tossing rainbow skittles and teddy bears and flying on a unicorn.

You can get down now.

Because I’ll tell you what. I don’t know anybody like that. I’ve met a few folk who put on a good show, but you know somehow that there’s a crack in the porcelain somewhere, and one day, maybe soon maybe not, but one day that pretty mask is going to fall right off their face.

Ask me how I know.

What if? What if we chose to take off the mask and just be real? Today. Right now. Before you even step out the door.

But.

What if I don’t know who I am anymore? 

I can say that now. I can write it out and stare at it and nod, (oh look, dry eyes. There’s a miracle.), but … I know. I know the pain in the question. Sometimes life catches up to you and slams you against the wall and holds up the mirror. And you have to answer the question, but you just … don’t know. It’s okay. I know the cycle … the putting things in the wash time and time again, hoping they’ll come out clean eventually, but you know they never will so you fold them just so and hope nobody sees the stains. I know.

What if? What if you just choose to accept the fact that you’re not perfect, never will be and just …

Love.

Love yourself, love others. And maybe somehow see yourself through their eyes. Through the ones that see the stains, know where they came from and love you anyway … what kind of freedom could you find in simply letting love in?

Yeah. Settle on that one awhile.

Because sometimes you can’t change the story. Sometimes things happen that you can’t control, can’t rewrite or even erase, no matter how many tears you cry over it. Sometimes those hard things, those long nights, those days and weeks and months of excruciating silence when nobody knows what to say or do next and you’re just waiting for the moment somebody trips the wire and the hidden hand-grenade goes off … tragic as it is, sometimes that is your story.

What if … you finally accept that and choose to move beyond it?

Because you have to start somewhere. And what if one step is all you can take, today … well, that’s okay. Take the next one tomorrow. You’ll get there. And if you’re like me, you’ll look around and see the miracle in it all. You’ll see you’re not alone. There are others here too, simply struggling, putting one foot in front of the other, but choosing to live, choosing to move forward. Choosing forgiveness over bitterness. Choosing … accepting … grace.

Couldn’t we all use a little more of that?

I could. Because some days I’m my own worst enemy. I know all my buttons and I push them well. But finally it happens. Finally I wake up to the weariness of soul and mind and body and I fling open the curtains and let the light in. Because I know, you see, I know this isn’t how it’s supposed to be. I know I still have a choice. You do too, even though you may not feel that right now, you do.

Sometimes you just need a reminder. I look at photographs. That’s how I remember. If you want to know who I really am, what really makes me happy, you can see it in my Cover Photos on Facebook. I’m pretty transparent. I realized that this morning. Sitting here in the midst of a million what-ifs. That’s who I am. This is what I love. My family, my friends, God’s astoundingly beautiful creations every time I turn around … what if … what if I miss that?

God, help me not to miss that. 

So what if you choose today, to hang on, to keep going, to live? Oh, I hope you do. I hope you’ll reach out to the closest hand that’s waiting to grip yours tight. And I hope you put that foot forward. Take the first step.

Because … what if …

What if you don’t?