Blog Challenge Reflection

Surprised.

This is the emotion that is driving my reflection. This week I've been surprised as I've stepped through the 7-Day Intentional Blogging Challenge hosted by Jeff Goins.

I was surprised I joined. It was a whim, and I invited Jen Vincent to join too. I was surprised she said yes. I was surprised the way we checked-in and encouraged and supported one another many times each day throughout the challenge. I had forgotten how much I need writing buddies throughout the process. This surprised me -- collaboration is one of my core beliefs, and yet as my life journey grew rocky these past few weeks, I retreated. This challenge reminded me of the way writers need each other during challenging times. More importantly, it served as a reminder that people need each other when life gets challenging. I didn't expect this life lesson from a blogging challenge.

It reminds me that writing always gives more than it takes.

I'm surprised at how my thoughts on blogging have expanded. Lately, through a course with Tim Grahl, I've been pushed to be intentional about using my online space to do two things:

1. Create lasting connections.
2. Be exceedingly helpful.

I love these goals. I'm unsure how all of the feelings in my heart about why I blog and what this community of teacher-writers means to me can be boiled down to six words, but I 'm glad. I like simplicity. It's a worthy mission and one I've been developing since I first started blogging more than a decade ago. I was surprised how the Intentional Blogging Challenge has supported and encouraged me in this mission, while at the same time gave me new resolve and permission to be someone who creates lasting connections and is exceedingly helpful.

Ultimately, this is my biggest surprise: the permission to emerge as a stronger and more purposeful writer than ever before. For those of you who are long time readers, following me from space to space, watching me walk away from a popular blog and land here, floundering as I learned to write for myself and an audience of One rather than for hits and popularity, you know this is not a slight thing.

Anais Nin's words have been ringing in my mind.

"And the day came when the risk to remain tight in the bud was more painful than the risk it took to blossom."

It is not a slight thing to learn you can blossom again.

*****

{This post is part of a 7-Day Intentional Blogging Challenge hosted by Jeff Goins. For more information and to see what others are writing, check out the invitation and Facebook page.}

Status Quo? Not Me!

I'm supposed to write about something that will stir a debate. I sent a writing buddy a text and said:

I don't think I can do today's challenge. I don't write to stir trouble.

Her response caught me off guard.

I think you do already...believe it or not! You already stand up and say writing and celebrating doesn't have to be what we think it is.

As much as I tried to remain in my uncontroversial bubble, her words kept swarming me. I asked Andy, "Do you think I'm controversial in my writing? Do I poke at tradition and push conventional beliefs?"

He laughed, nearly choking on his drink. "You have to ask?"

He looked over at me and realized I wasn't joking. This made him laugh again. "You're always pushing people to move out of their comfort zones. You spin these stories that are just ordinary moments that make people smile or soften and then you give a little twist at the end that makes us pause and think about our own lives in a new way. Yeah, you push convention."

"I'm not mean!" I hear the defensiveness in my own voice.

"No, you're not mean. You're also not status quo." He shakes his head again. "Like you don't know it."

I shrugged. "I'm just writing truth."

He laughed, "That's why I love you. You speak the truth, whether people want to hear it or not. You just kind of lay it out, no sugar coating."

This time it was my turn to laugh. "So what are you saying? I have strong beliefs?"

"It's all part of the package," he teased. "Low maintenance, but you say it how you see it."

And this is how I see it:

Everyone has something to celebrate.

I'm a little worn out by all of the complaining and nagging and whining that fills our days. My ears hurt from people wishing their lives were easier, less complicated, or more blessed. I'm tired of hearing about how busy and overwhelmed everyone is -- all of the time.

Because here's the deal:

Every single complaint can be turned into a celebration.

It's all about the perspective. I can complain about the laundry, or I can celebrate having a healthy and active family. I can crab about doing dishes again, or I can celebrate the home cooked, delicious, plentiful meal. I can grumble about the papers, books, iPads, paper airplanes, milk glasses, and back packs on the kitchen table or I can celebrate that the kitchen table is not just a dumping ground, but a gathering place every afternoon.

I turn each complaint inside out all day long. When someone snaps at me, I'm glad they trust me enough to shoulder their frustration and be kind anyway. When I'm cut off while driving, I'm thankful I was paying attention and avoided an accident. When I'm sore from exercising, I'm grateful I had time for an extra mile the night before.

When I choose to celebrate, I no longer have space for complaining. Celebration is my catalyst for caring about others, for being kind, and for making the world a better place. Everyone has something to celebrate. Let's start today!

*****

 

Join a community who celebrates together every weekend (whether we feel like it or not). Check here for the scoop! 

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This post is part of a 7-Day Intentional Blogging Challenge hosted by Jeff Goins. For more information and to see what others are writing, check out the invitation and Facebook page. 

Mantra: Why I Write

I write...

To turn darkness to light. Stories have the power to bring light to the shadows of the world. I write to shine light into the darkness.

To choose celebration over the grit of life. Life is chaotic, and there is always a cause for an alarm. I write in order to pause and shift perspective from stress to joy. This pause allows the words to mold everyday life into a celebration.

To discover genuine stories. Life swirls and the wisps are almost impossible to grasp -- unless I put words to the page. I write to find the genuine stories -- the real and raw moments of life that will slip through my grip and I lose a piece of the beauty life is meant to bring.


To document a radical faith.  As the world pulls and demands, I write to defend and remember the One who is bigger than me. I write to build bits of this and that into a story that reflects Truth.

To play with words. I write because it's fun to play with words, to make them wobble and steady by stacking them on the page.

Mostly, though, I write to inspire others to celebrate their stories, even in the midst of the muddle. Sharing stories is the best way I know to make the world a better place. We soften and learn and rise up because we share stories. We defend and encourage and love more because we share stories. I write so others will want to share their stories. I write so others will live a stronger story. I write because story changes me and him and her and you...and together, we will make the world a better place.

*****

This post is part of a 7-Day Intentional Blogging Challenge hosted by Jeff Goins. For more information and to see what others are writing, check out the invitation and Facebook page. 

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CELEBRATE This Week LXXXVIII (88)

I'm glad you are here to celebrate! Share a link to your blog post below and/or use #celebratelu to share celebrations on Twitter. Check out the details here. Celebrate This Week goes live on Friday night around 10(ish). Consider it as a weekend celebration. Whenever it fits in your life, add your link. Please leave a little comment love for the person who links before you.

*****

I turned my Instagram account public. I've been using it to collect & document celebrations. I love it. Please follow me there: @ruth_ayres to find celebrations throughout the week.

*****

 My summer is slipping away and when I look ahead on the calendar, it doesn't seem like it's going to slow down. I had the privilege this week of reading a draft by Christy Rush Levine. In it, she reminded readers of the power of a single goal.

One goal.

Period.

Obviously, it got me thinking. Since summer is going so quickly, I really should choose one goal to hold tight. It's tough to choose just one goal, one action that will make a summer. Usually these things come quickly. Last year there were three.

I've been thinking how to boil down and sum up this summer in a single goal. I think it comes down to this...

This summer, I'm going to hold their hands. Feel free to check in with me later and see how it goes.

Thanks for finding time to celebrate. Share your links below!

HOPE: A Practice of Perspective

 

I like joining Holley Gerth and friends for Coffee for Your Heart. I'm grateful to pour a little encouragement today. You can join too (or fill up on encouragement) by clicking here.

*********

Andy and I lived in a too-big house for many years. We were young-ish, holding college degrees and dream jobs.

It was time for a family.
It was past time for a family.
It was wondering if our family would ever grow bigger than the two of us.
It was learning to live with the reality that no baby would ever be born with my curls and his eyes.

I almost became bitter at that point -- all youngish with a too-big house, college degree and dream job. Hindsight sees these things for me. At the time, all I knew was I wanted to be a momma, my body was getting old, and Andy was anti-adoption.

I prayed for so long for a baby that it was painful. It was a June day, returning from a run, and the sky turned dark, grey clouds swirled and rain drops plopped hard against my bare shoulders and legs.

I stood there, smelling the rain roll in and letting it soak me until I was soggy. My soles squished when my feet shifted and my soul slogged behind. It was here self-pity threatened hope.

Why don't I have a baby?
What if I never have a baby?
Doesn't God love me enough to give me a baby?
Am I not good enough to have a baby?
If I don't get to be a mom, what  fun will life be?

Sometimes waterlogged soles make you go inside and change your shoes. I stood on the rug inside our front door, unlaced my shoe strings, slipped my foot out, and peeled off my socks. My toes were pruney, but they'd return to normal s0on. I thought about my pruney soul slogging behind, deciding to be all sad with life.

 I didn't know then that my next thought would alter my soul for the rest of my life. Standing there looking at my pruney toes, I wondered if I might be able to exchange my soul inside just like I did the soles on my feet.

Instead of dreading not being a momma, could I unlace my plan, peel it off, and pick a new path? Instead of wondering if I'll miss all the fun of family life with kids, can I wonder about all the things we can do without kids?

I looked out the front door, the rain letting up and the dark clouds breaking apart. Sunbeams sneaking through the sky. It was then I stopped praying to be a momma and started praying that if God's plan was a life without kids, that He would take away my desire to be a momma.

That day the tables turned.
It wasn't about feeling unloved because I didn't get what I wanted.
It wasn't about being angry or bitter because things didn't happen the way I planned.
It was about loosening the ties and peeling off the limited view of the way life should go.

It was then I decided God is good -- all the time -- and it was my job to shift my perspective to always see His goodness.

Today I'm thankful for dirty dishes and piles of laundry.
For the spilled drink at dinner and the peas scattered under the table.
For the piles of snow gear in the back hall and the forgotten math homework on the table.
I'm thankful for the stomping feet and the indignant eye roll.

I'm thankful for each melt down, each argument, each refusal because I know it puts us one step closer to healing.

Today, this practice of turning my perspective, sustains me. It is a matter of positioning myself to find the celebration so the worry doesn't take over and the joy isn't stolen. It is here my hope stays alive.

No More Searching for Lows

 

Too many weeks have passed since I've joined Holley Gerth and friends for Coffee for Your Heart. I'm grateful to pour a little encouragement today. You can join too (or fill up on encouragement) by clicking here.

We play High/Low at dinner time. Each person shares their high from the day and their low from the day. I've been noticing the lows of the day tend to be first-world problems...They served macaroni and cheese with green beans for lunch...My Lego car broke when it fell off the counter...Kate chewed my favorite sock...The football was put up at lunch recess.


I've been rethinking the game. We are too blessed to focus on these lows. If it's a low day, we don't need a game to figure it out. Maybe we should call it High/Not-too-Shabby and share the best part and the not-so-bad part of each day. Another option is Amazing/Chose Better and we could focus on the most ah-mazing part of the day and a time we could have made a better choice. What about Celebrate/Encourage? There would be space to think about a celebration from the day and a person we encouraged.


If we want to see how good God is, then it begins with what we notice. If we're searching for lows, we're going to miss the not-too-shabby and the ah-mazing and the encouragement. We're going to miss seeing the celebration.

It's not a risk I'm willing to take. There will be no more searching for lows at our dinnertime.  Living a life of celebration starts with what we notice. Notice lows and get grumbles. Notice chances to choose better and get celebration.

It's a small change that will make a big difference.

Notice {Five Minute Friday}

Go.

The world notices Jesus. Even when we're busy, doing things that make us happy, taking care of all the things that need done, making the most of life, finding ourselves, posting on Facebook, tweeting that, instagraming this, the world still notices Light.

It is a shine that cannot be hidden, cannot be covered, cannot be dimmed.

I've wrestled with learning to live with rapid obedience and radical faith, while trying to stay out of the shine. It's impossible. People will always notice the lights of the world.

Humility is not about living in the shadows, but living bold and radical. The world will notice. I  check if pride is festering in my heart by whether the world notices me or the good work of Jesus. When the One who gives Light and makes us shine is glorified, then I know my heart is pure and my work is good.


Stop.

Join Five Minute Friday here.

Still {Five Minute Friday}

Go.

He still comes into my room every morning before school and waits for me to finish getting ready. He used to sit in my lap in front of that tall mirror while I put on my make-up. Today he came in, arms wide, and hugged me. "It's going to be a good day," he said.

I hugged him back, forcing myself to be still. It doesn't matter that I'm running late or I want to brew a cup of coffee or my bag isn't packed. It doesn't matter that I have a meeting or still need to put on lipstick and mascara or haven't eaten breakfast.

What matters is he still waits for me. He still hugs me. He still loves to start the day. There is something special about a day in and day out lifetime history together.

He's hugging and I'm slowing down when he says, "We should take a picture." I don't have time, but I remind myself that these days may be numbered, so I swipe open the camera on my phone, hold it out, and he says, "Right there, Mom. That's perfect."

I take the shot. He hugs me tighter. And this moment is caught in time -- forever still.

Stop.

Join Five Minute Friday here.

Too Much

It's too much. Sometimes life gets to be too much. Then someone, well-intentioned, trying to offer encouragement and support says, "God doesn't give you more than you can handle." If it were true, I might be comforted.

But it's not truth.

Life is too much to handle. And this is okay.

Totally okay.

Now the world doesn't want me to think it's okay. The world wants me to think I'm a big failure because I can't handle everything that comes my way. The world tells me I'm not good enough if I can't keep up with the laundry and pickup the kids on time and have a home cook meal steaming on the table at dinner time and get through showers without someone (maybe me) having a major meltdown.

There are all these things I'm supposed to be able to do to be counted as a good mom, a good educator, a good wife, a good friend, a good daughter, a good sister. I can't keep up with it all. It is too much.

I've been reading and rereading about the time in Gethsemane before Jesus was betrayed and started on the journey to crucifixion. Jesus was in agony there in the garden. He did not want to do what he was called to do. He asked for a way out. It was too much -- way too much.

We are not promised that life will not be too much to handle. (The scripture that tends to be misunderstood refers to temptation -- there will always be a way to run away from temptation. Suffering and the circumstances of life, though, that's another story.) We are not promised easy and comfortable.

This week I'm wiped out. It's the time of year when things get hard -- super hard -- for a couple of our kids. Their emotions are close to the surface, ready to burst at any moment (many moments, in fact). The work at school is more than I can handle. I keep dropping the ball. I have too many unanswered emails waiting in my inbox. Andy has been with his dad (who is a very blessed man and was able to come home today).

It's too much, but it doesn't mean God made a mistake.

Isn't it when things get to be too much that we see the power of Jesus?

I wish there wasn't a need for adoption. Unfortunately we live in a world where children are hurt by the people who are supposed to care for them. God calls us to stand in the gap, to take care of orphans. To make families for the fatherless.

It's too much for anyone to do. It's too much for me, it's too much for you -- but we hang in there because we turn to God, who is mighty and strong -- and we learn what it means to be part of the body of Christ, serving and loving and encouraging one another as we walk a journey that is too hard. 

Too much and too hard are indicators of a life well-lived. They are indicators of radical faith. I'm coming to believe that when we are in the will of God, life is too much to handle.

And this is okay. Because it is here, in the midst of too hard, that we find too much joy and too much peace and too much grace and too much love.

It is the love of a great big God that is too much to handle.

 

Today I'm linking up with Holley Gerth for Coffee for Your Heart. It's a link-up where you pour a little encouragement out with your words and then share it with the rest of the community. Even if you don't try it, hop over and enjoy a little encouragement for your soul.

Turn {Five Minute Friday}

Go.

It only takes a moment for life to turn. One moment you might be doing your work, a thing you’ve done so many times that you don’t even have to think about the process, you just go through the motions and complete the job. It might be the same work you’ve done for decades, so rote that you don't even think about it because it just gets done. That’s what Andy’s dad was doing last Wednesday. He was putting in field tile, in the bottom of a trench, working alongside his older brother. It's what they do after the harvest is done.

They were going through the motions, shoulder to shoulder, when the dirt shifted. It began to fall, and one yelled, “Get out!” They moved, down the trench in opposite directions. Except the dirt caught Andy's dad and buried him up to his chin.

Life turns.  And in that moment – the moment when it turns – you realize what a gift you’ve been given and you know whether you've spent it well.

With a little turn of dirt, a whole world can change. Right now, in the moment after the turn, I am remembering that each life is a gift. Every moment counts.

Stop.

*The disadvantage to writing in a five minutes is you can leave out important parts of the story. Dennis, Andy's dad, is doing much better than one would expect after being crushed by thousands of pounds of dirt. Although he has several broken bones and is in much pain, he is going to be okay (with time, lots of time). He is blessed and very much alive.

Join Five Minute Friday here.

Five Minute Friday {Leave}

{Go}

"LEAVE me alone!" These words are becoming a regular part of the sounds around our house. I don't like them. I don't believe them. He doesn't believe them either.

Yet they still roll right off of his tongue, travel through his teeth and flick off his lips.

"LEAVE me alone!"

There are days when I want to yell them right back. When my ears are ringing and my heart is stinging and I think about how life might be so much easier if I did just that -- LEAVE him alone.

He glares and spats the words again. "LEAVE me alone!"

I've never walked away. I stay close and wait him out. I scoot closer. Brush his shoulder. Rub his back. Eventually he turns to me, hugs me, and one more time I confirm that this is forever. I'm not going anywhere. I'm here forever.

But what if it's time to also show him that I love him enough to respect his request. (Even if it is said in the most disrespectful of ways.)

"Don't yo' ears work? LEAVE me alone!" I'm standing in his bedroom doorway, trying to figure out what to do. Trying to figure out when he's going to accept that he belongs in this family. Wondering what else can be done to prove that we are glad he's part of our forever; to affirm that he belongs.

Walk away, my heart says. I squeeze my eyes, not wanting to hurt him more.

"See you don't want to look at me. LEAVE me alone!" His voice screeches. It sends shivers like nails on a chalkboard.

Trust me, walk away, says the sweet spirit of the One who loves him more than I do.

I turn and walk away.

"About time you LEAVE me alone." He screeches louder. I walk down the steps, through the house, and collapse on the chair.

His sobs grow louder and louder. My heart cracks because I know he doesn't mean the words. Because I know he's hurt. Because I know he's testing whether I mean it when I say forever.

I keep my eyes closed and rock in the chair. Back and forth. Back and forth. His sobs spatter through the house, louder and louder. He's gasping for air. He's sputtering.

And I rock. Trusting he will be okay. Trusting this will help him know forever.

He's still sobbing. My heart cracks because he is hurt and a momma is supposed to make her son feel safe. I rock and tears well in my still closed eyes.

I'm not sure if I can just leave him alone. It's been 14 minutes and 54 seconds...55...56...57...

The footsteps tromp down the stairs. The sobs get louder. The footsteps shuffle through the house, following my same path. The sobs sputter dripping on the toes of my socks. His face is soaked and swollen. His eyes are slits and the tears spill out, never ending.

He chokes, but still pushes the words out. "I...didn't...mean...to...LEAVE."

I open my arms and he collapses in my lap. His swollen face tucks under my chin and his legs spill off my lap, feet touching the floor. "I know it," I assure him.

You belong. You belong. You belong.

I whisper these two words over and over again.

You belong. You belong. You belong.

And we rock.

You belong. You belong. You belong.

The sobs subside. He holds on too tight, hurting my waist.

You belong. You belong. You belong.

And I believe that he isn't too old to heal from a history of having to leave behind families and places and treasures of a too young boy.

I believe he's not too old to find out forever isn't a myth.

Because we will never leave him.

 

{Stop}

Join Five Minute Friday here.

In January 2013, we brought home our son when he was 7 years old. It is a romanticized version of adoption that orphans heal the moment they cross the threshold of a loving home. It takes months, years, sometimes even a lifetime to overcome the harsh history of being an orphan.

This story is a celebration, a victory, that brings us one step closer to healing. It is our mantra: One step closer to healing. We believe our children will heal in childhood. This means we will accept each fit and argument and horrific test of our promise of forever as one step closer to healing.

Put Out Into Deep {Coffee for Your Heart}

I've been thinking about Peter, the fisherman. Do you know how he moved on from being the fisherman? I like to imagine that it was at the end of an ordinary fishing day, although it might have been a bad day. His boat was empty and he was washing his nets when Jesus asked him to take him out on the water, a little ways from the land.

Peter did and Jesus taught the crowd from the boat. When he finished speaking, he said to Peter, "Put out into deep and let down your nets for a catch."

An eye roll isn't caught in the holy text, but I wouldn't be surprised if that's what Peter did. He had already been out and it wasn't a good fishing day. In fact, it was a long day. Peter respoded, "Master, we toil all night and took nothing! But at your word I will let down the nets."

So Peter tossed his nets out in the deep. They were filled with so many fish that the nets began breaking. They collected enough fish to fill two boats and the boats threatened to sink from the weight of the fish.

When Peter saw the catch, he fell at Jesus' knees. Peter was astonished and he knew he didn't deserve the abundant catch.

And it was right here that Jesus changed Peter's life. At the end of a a long day at work there was a miracle and an abundant catch. Peter didn't feel worthy. Jesus looked at Peter, maybe even cupped his hand around his jaw, and said, "Do not be afraid; from now on you will be catching men."

And do you know what Peter did? In that moment he left his old life as a fisherman and picked up a brand life path.

I'm moved by the way Jesus tells Peter to put the nets out in the deep. It's a long shot. It doesn't make sense. It's beyond the parameters of a good fishing spot. Yet Peter does it anyway. He casts out his net into the deep. And because Jesus is lavish, there are so many fish the nets are tearing and the boats are sinking.

Peter's obedience is rewarded. He learns to trust Jesus, even when Peter "knows better."

I'm moved even more by the way Jesus takes who Peter was -- a fisherman -- and uses it as a building block, as a knowledge base, as a way to launch him into a new calling. In essence, Jesus is saying, "You know fishing, so take what you know and fish for men."

Today might be an ordinary day, just like Peter's day, starting out just like any other day. It might even be an ugly day, a day when you're not sure you're cut out for the work before you. That's okay. Because whatever you are right now, God plans to use it to launch you into whatever is next. It might not be right now or next week or next year. It might be many years from now, but it's all part of a bigger picture.

And that makes it all worth tossing caution into the deep and following God with rapid obedience.

 

Today I'm linking up with Holley Gerth for Coffee for Your Heart. It's a link-up where you pour a little encouragement out with your words and then share it with the rest of the community. Even if you don't try it, hop over an enjoy a little encouragement for your soul.

Five Minute Friday {Ready}

{Go}
So there's been this burden on my heart to share my faith and family stories to bring hope and encouragement to women. Sometimes I like to ignore this kind of thing.

Especially when it takes me out of my comfort zone.

You know, my writing life used to be so succinct. It was easy. I co-founded a blog that grew to thousands of readers each day. A book deal came from the blog.

And then it was like my whole writing life was shaken.

Nothing made sense. I walked away from the blog I founded and the community of teachers I loved.

Walking away is always about walking toward something else.

Sometimes you don't know what you are walking toward.

Then my writing territories expanded. It wasn't just about teaching and writing anymore. Instead topics about adoption and faith and family were growing out of my heart.

I've realized this has been a season of preparation. My heart is molded, shaped, and formed for a new calling, a new kind of work, that is laid before me.

If I said I'm not unsure, I'd be lying.
If I said I'm not ready, I'd be believing a lie.

It's time.
I'm ready.

{Stop}

{Tell} Five Minute Friday

Go...

Tell your story

Tell it slow.

Tell it over.

Tell it new.

Tell it free.

Tell it raw.

Tell it  true.

Tell your story.

 Stop.

 

Five Minute Friday {Bloom}

Go
These are my flowers.

I've never had flowers bloom like this before. You see, I have a black thumb when it comes to gardening. Death black, in fact.

This year, though, I decided there's no reason I can't grow flowers. They are living art. Karianne helped me pick out the palette. We planted together.

I've been watering ever since.

It's amazing what a little water (every day) will do for plants.

Look at them bloom!

It's easy to water them. It's easy to skip watering them too.

I think plants are a lot like people. It's easy to pour love into people. Yet, it's just as easy to ignore chances to pour love. It's easy to skip loving people.

It's amazing what a little love (every day) will do for people.

Try it and watch them bloom!

Stop

In the summer of 2013, I came across a writing challenge hosted by Lisa-Jo Baker. For more information, check out this link to Five Minute Friday. The nitty-gritty is you write for 5 minutes on a word, then you share your post, and you comment on another. I hope you'll join too.

Summer Plans FOR ME

My friend, Franki, shared this link with me: Mom's Summer Bucket Lists. Franki and I like to joke that we are successful when we manage to put on lotion or lipstick. On the rare occasions when both occur, it is a gold star day.

The article made me realize that although I helped my kids write three things they want to make sure happen this summer, I kind of slid through without a list of my own. I say kind of, because I did make a list. Looking at it now, I realize it wasn't a list for me. It was a list for them.

I'm not a big subscriber to the do-all-kinds-of-things-for-yourself movement. I think it's important to take care of yourself, but that self-care can happen in small (and effective) doses -- like lotion and lipstick.

At the same time, I'm not a big subscriber to wear-yourself-ragged-because-you-only-take-care-of-others-and-never-yourself mentality. It's important to take care of others. We all have someone in our lives who drains energy -- every single one of us knows what this is like. We are better at caring for others when we care for ourselves too (in small and effective doses).

Currently, I'm more on the ragged and tattered side of things. This is why the idea of a Summer Bucket List resonates with me. I'm claiming today as my first official day of summer and extending the season to September 5. Typically, I start to enter "autumn" when school starts. Not this year. I'm keeping summer in my heart for the next two months.

Following the inspiration from Franki...

The top three items on my Summer Bucket List* FOR ME are:

1. {Move} Somehow with ball games and friends over and needing this and getting that, I've lost my regular and expected movement each day. I believe in movement being a lifestyle, not a regiment, and so with this item, it can be a run (and will be some days), but a walk with a friend or a bike ride or a family game of football in the yard all count. The point is I move every day. I stretch in the morning, I move during the day, and I crunch or lift or balance at night.
2. {Write} My writing life has become a mess. This once disciplined 1000 words/day girl has become a tangled mess of a writer. It is time to reclaim the space with one hour/day in order to find my footing with an evolved process and an expanded territory of topic, audience, and purpose.
3. {Preserve} When I consider what I will miss most if I don't do it this summer, preservation came to mind. I want to preserve summer through photos, scrapbook pages, and canning. I wish I could say something like, each week I'll spend three hours preserving photos, stories, or food, but I don't work this way. Rather, by the end of the summer, I'll have uploaded and printed photos for the first half of 2014, bought an album for Jay and have some scrapbook pages inside it, and replace the shelves of empty canning jars with full ones.

*Lotion and lipstick will remain indicators of gold star days!

You Inspire Me {Coffee for My Heart}

Who inspires you?

I'm almost afraid to publish this list because the moment I do is the exact moment that I forget someone who should be on this list In fact, I had to cut myself off -- set a timer and stop when it sounded. Because the truth of the matter is inspiration comes from every nook of my life. It is the beauty of the way we are created -- each enhancing another life. I'm sorry if the timer dinged before you were added to the list. You are important because you inspire others simply by  being you.

***

Andy inspires me to not take life too seriously.

Becca N. inspires me to breathe.

Becca S. inspires me to dream.

Brenda inspires me to live life to the fullest.

Christy inspires me to savor my story.

Colby inspires me to know my job matters.

Dad inspires me to be my best.

Deb D. inspires me to play with my writing.

Deb G. inspires me to be kind.

Elsie inspires me to see the world.

Franki inspires me to connect.

Hannah inspires me to listen.

Heidi inspires me to believe the best in people.

Jasmine inspires quiet strength.

Jordan inspires me to laugh.

Joy inspires me to lead.

Linda inspires me to comment.

Mary Helen inspires me to laugh loud.

Mom inspires me to be creative.

Ruth M. inspires me to write more.

Sam inspires me to be silly.

Scott inspires me to be creative.

Stephanie inspires me to let go of control.

Tam inspires me to pause.

Tammy inspires me to give.

Tricia inspires me to be calm.

The Coffee for Your Heart concept is simple: Holley Gerth is asking us to pour out a little love with our words every Wednesday. There's a prompt each week. Last Wednesday was, “Who inspires you?” The next writing prompt is this: “A small thing that makes a big difference is…

40 Stories of Family and Faith

For those who have been reading my stories for a long time, you know there's been a shift in my writing life. I walked away from Two Writing Teachers in order to find the space to tell a story that's been knocking around inside of me. For the past few months I've been learning to give brain space to some new writing territories. It's time I begin writing to find my voice in the topics of adoption and family and marriage and faith.


I've decided to dedicate the season of Lent to writing 40 stories. Lent is a season of preparation leading up to the Easter celebration. It is designed to be 40 days of preparation, with a day of rest each week.

I'm learning rest is crucial to my writing life. I like the idea of a big challenge with built in rest. This season, I'm giving 40 stories of family and faith. I'm not "allowed" to rattle off a story about teaching or writing. These are natural and easy for me to write. I've had lots of practice, beginning to blog in those territories in 2005. This challenge is about training my brain to find and compose stories in these new writing territories. (I'm learning I craft a lot of my writing in my head. In order to write like I want about family and faith, I have to retrain my brain to think in new territories.)

I've shared this plan with two friends who both laughed when I told them the rules. Neither were surprised that I'd have rules. I, however, was a little surprised that they expected me to have rules. I don't consider myself a rules sort of person. I do, I suppose, like to know the exact goal and then go after it with all I'm worth. This is both comforting and a hassle.

In addition to offering 40 stories, I'm also giving up comments on them. I'm finding I'm determining the worth of a story based on the comments. I don't want to write a story because I think it'll get comments. (This is not to devalue comments. They are often the fuel for my writing life. It is simply that I want to depend on my heart to know the value of these 40 stories.)

I want to write 40 stories to find my voice, to learn how to handle tough back stories with dignity and respect, and to be fueled by a writing challenge.

Without a doubt, CELEBRATE This Week will continue on Saturdays (with comments!) during the six weeks of Lent. Beginning on Ash Wednesday, March 5, I'll offer a story six days each week until Easter Sunday, April 20. I hope my stories will inspire you to shine and love and and celebrate and collect some of your own stories too.

What Brings Me Joy

Stories
Smiles
Giggles
Hugs

Writing
Walking
Painting
Cooking

Andy
Hannah
Stephanie
Jordan
Sam

Stripes
Argyle
Dots
Color

Pure joy is when I'm doing exactly what I'm made to do at the exact moment I am created to do it.  Pure joy is serving moment by moment in ways that are new and fresh and unexpected. Pure joy isn't always comfortable, nor is it always fun.

It is, however, always a blessing.

The Coffee for Your Heart concept is simple: Holley Gerth is asking us to pour out a little love with our words every Wednesday. There's a prompt each week. Last Wednesday was, “What brings you joy?” The next writing prompt is this question: “Who inspires you?”

{Write}: Five Minute Friday

Go

I've been a lazy writer lately.


I said these words to another writer friend this week.They've been haunting me ever since.

We live in a society that often confuses rest with laziness. I think I got caught up in the misunderstanding.

Rest is critical. It is important to athletes and babies and mommas.

It is especially critical to writers.


A lot of writers say the secret to writing lies in the daily routine. I do think routine is essential. Writing well is a learned skill -- not a talent. The only way to become a writer is to write.

I write a lot. Thousands of words a day. I write blog posts, articles, and book chapters. I write about faith in one notebook and collect adoption stories in another. I write letters and curriculum plans and copious emails. Perhaps the dailiness of writing doesn't have to be such a high volume.


Because rest might just be as critical as word count to my writing life.

When I rest as a writer, my brain finds the needed space to make connections, discover understandings, and play with words. It also allows me the time to stretch into new writing territories. Rest restores my energy for education and helps me find my footing in living and writing my beliefs about teaching.

I'm not a lazy writer.

I'm a writer who is paying attention to her process. A writer who knows it is essential to nourish her writing soul.

A writer who will rest.

Think.
Dream.
Play in my notebook.
Find my voice in new writing territories.
And reclaim my energy of old writing territories.

Athletes know rest is critical to their performance. I'm learning the same is true for me as a writer. So there may be fewer words here and fewer articles and the books may take a little longer to write.

But, I'm not lazy.

Rather, I'm learning to rest in order to become a stronger writer.

Stop

In the summer of 2013, I came across a writing challenge hosted by Lisa-Jo Baker. For more information, check out this link to Five Minute Friday. The nitty-gritty is you write for 5 minutes on a word, then you share your post, and you comment on another. I hope you'll join too.