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'm celebrating courage.
I'm celebrating dreams.
I'm celebrating faith.
I'm celebrating love.
Courage
Dreams
Faith
Love
I'm celebrating Easter. Here's to celebrating this week!
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.
*****
Last year, when things turned grey, my friend, Becca, gave me a miniature gerber daisy in a tiny pink pot. I love daisies. They are my favorite. This one gave me much hope. It kept blooming -- over and over. It promised hope.
I kept it alive through the summer. Then something, probably a chipmunk, snagged it off my front porch.
A few weeks ago, Sam and I came across miniature cacti in a store. They were lined up in tiny pots. No two were the same. "We should get one for the window sill and for Becca," he said.
"I was thinking the same thing," I said.
Sam picked out one with a bright pink bloom. "This one is perfect for Becca," he said. I agreed.
We picked a plain one for our kitchen window. I wondered if it would be hardy enough for my house.
I dropped it while carrying it inside. It survives.
I don't know how much to water it. It survives.
Jordan knocked it over with a renegade fork while doing dishes. It survives. I realized I might be in a season of cacti living. Hard and hardy. Survival and vitality. Prickly and steadfast. Then I noticed brown spots, and I wondered if maybe it wasn't surviving. I kept an eye on it and the spots became lumps. I wondered if it contracted a disease. The bumps grew, and I thought maybe it was a fungus. I figured the cactus would bite the dust at any moment. Then the lumps grew a little more. I realized they are buds. I think my cactus might be growing blooms. Isn't this just how life goes? Just when we think we've come to the end, there's a bud and hope that things will soon bloom. And when that happens, I hope it is better than I could even imagine.
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.
*****
For the last 11 years, I've lived one little word for 365 days. This year's word makes me laugh a skeptical kind of snort. The word came to me late, a few days after 2016 was underway. I was hesitant to claim it, but it kept following me, like a lost dog in need of a home. I have an affinity for souls in need of homes. This word was a lost soul and begged to inhabit my 2016. Those who are closest to me would tell you the parenting terrain doesn't get much more rugged than its been this year. We're learning trauma can cause extreme behavior, even years after its supposed to be over. We're learning overcoming a hard history isn't a warm and fuzzy event.We're learning that healing is a gnarled process. Sometimes love is tough. It calls for the unimaginable. It calls for choices that no parent ever wants to make. We've learned to love in unprecedented ways, in ways that a year ago were unfathomable. Meanwhile, my word keeps begging for me to pay attention to it. Treasure. It feels like a cruel joke, this little word of mine. As the year unfolded, the trials continued, increasing in intensity. Month after month, James' words taunted me, "Count it all joy, my brothers, when you meet trials of various kinds." I decided I wouldn't like being friends with James. I've put off reflecting on my little word, because I'm doubtful there will be any connection between my word and 2016. Count it all joy when you meet trials of various kinds... There is a single word that means the same thing as the phrase count it all joy... Treasure.
Treasure, friends, when tests and challenges come at you from all sides. You know that under pressure, your faith-life is forced into the open and shows its true colors. So don’t try to get out of anything prematurely. Let it do its work so you become mature and well-developed, not deficient in any way.
(James1:2-4, The Message)
James understood things about faith that I did not.
He understood it is through challenges that faith is evident.
He understood it is through tests that faith grows deep roots.
He understood it is through trials that faith becomes indisputable.
I'm beginning understand these things, too. It seems that 2016 lived up to its word after all. Although the events of the year have left much to be desired, my irrevocable faith will always be something to Treasure.
The Quick & Meaningful Writing Assessment course is still open for free. I know you're busy right now, but here are two reasons to register.
You get lifetime access. So even if you don't have time now, it'll be waiting for you when you do.
There are 5 lessons and each of the videos are less than 5 minutes. You have time for this.
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.
*****
This week I stood on the edge of my parents' woods. I was alone, and the world was big around me. The leaves tumbled from the tip top of tall, thin trees. The wind swayed. The trees creaked. The air chilled, and the sky churned grey. I closed my eyes and breathed deep the smell of fall in Indiana.
There is something cathartic for me about everything falling down, chilling out, and laying to rest. The root of cathartic is the Greek word, katharsis. It means cleansing.
Things fall down, chill out, and lay to rest and I feel cleansed. Amen.
I like living in Indiana because we have four distinct seasons. I'm reminded that a season never remains. This is true in life too. My life seasons never remain because we are constantly running the race before me.
Fall is always a welcomed relief. The whole big world commands me to fall down, chill out, and rest. I'm obliging the season. It seems I need a bit of practice when it comes to relaxing.
In 2015 I lived unhurried.
In 2016 I've been living treasure.
It seems I've gotten a little mixed-up. In an effort to treasure every glimmer of life, I've forgotten that the true treasure is unhurried moments of allowing life to unfold.
As this season of falling down shifts into a season of gratitude rolled into advent, I will treasure unhurried moments. The heart of this mindset is knowing that I am not in control. My job is to simply believe in the goodness of God.
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.
*****
It's been a bit of a rough week. I want to celebrate. I stare at the cursor blinking in the post box, and I don't know what words to type. It's the end of a too hard week. I could make a little list of things to celebrate...
sweet coffee
stories around the campfire
cotton candy sunrises
And they would be true celebrations, but my soul would be weary and I would still be wondering what words I should have typed. I would miss the celebration.
Because the truth is sometimes life is hard. You get to the end of the day and realize you are out of hours and important things are going to be left undone. Sometimes, no matter how hard you try, you disappoint. Other times, no matter how long you think, you still don't know if you are making the best decision.
I find celebrations moment by moment. I flip my thinking and find the small joys...
laughter after school
freezer meals that make dinner a snap
a Saturday morning all my own
Even though I am worn, there is unexplainable energy sustaining me. On Monday night (when I thought the next day must be Friday instead of Tuesday), I realized this abundance of energy and peach is faith. Sometimes faith is overcomplicated.
This week, I realized it is simply knowing things will work out for the good of those who love God and serve according to His purposes (Romans 8:28). When I find small celebrations, my faith is strengthened...
three after school runs with the family
perfect weather for watching soccer and football
a new introduction is starting to take shape for The Book
I celebrate small so I can live big.
I can keep listing celebrations because they are tucked throughout my week. Moments pass and I collect treasures because I've learned to find them. I find them because I believe there is good in the rubble of life.
This is why I'm so thankful for you, our community that celebrates together. This way I keep fighting the good fight, allowing my faith to strengthen through celebrations.
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.
*****
Last week I delivered the message at my church. It was part of the This is my Story. This is my Psalm. sermon series. It was a privilege and an honor to get to speak about faith and adoption in my home church.
I was also thrilled to have my friends, Jasmine and Becca, there to encourage me. They are giants of faith and have helped me heal in many ways. Before them I thought I was a really terrible friend. They've shown me so much truth about friendship, and I hope someday it will be the topic of a book.
If you want to hear my story and my psalm, you can listen here. Just select the link under my name. I claim Psalm 150 -- the last chapter in the book-- as my Psalm. It is a Psalm of pure praise and has the verse: Let everything that has breath praise His name. I tell the stories of our adoptions -- Sam from birth; Hannah and Stephanie from kindergarten and a preschool for children ages 2, 3, and 4 with anger issues; and Jordan, a child I didn't even know we had until we were told to go find him. Also, this was delivered without notes. God wanted me to trust Him completely with the words. He is a good Good.
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.
******
Jordan is typically the last one in the car. No matter how much earlier he starts to get ready, no matter how "completely" ready he is, no matter how many reminders he gets, he is still the last one in the car. Normally he hops out with one shoe barely on and the other in his hand.
He collapses into the backseat of my car. It's already filled with two other bodies. Steph, in the center says, "Sheesh, Jay, watch it!"
"I'm trying!" he snaps back. "It's not like it's easy to put on these shoes when I'm crammed back here."
Stephanie shoves his bag back to his lap.
"Knock it off, Steph," he growls.
"Get your bag on your own side." She crabs back.
"I'm trying to tie my shoes," he says and elbows her.
Of course she elbows him back, and shoves his bag again.
"Will you cut it out?" he raises his voice. "I've gotta get my shoes on."
"You should have done that before you got in the car."
Both of their tempers are on the rise, so I interrupt. "Grace," I say, my voice low. "Extend a little grace."
"You should tell that to him," Stephanie's words are curt.
"I'm saying it to all of us. Grace goes far."
Stephanie kicks Jay's bag. "Keep it on your own side!"
"Grace," I say again.
Jordan tugs on his shoelaces. "You know, Mom, I'd like to have grace, but it's hard."
"See? That's what I mean," Jay says. "Grace is hard. She doesn't even deserve it."
"Neither do you," Stephanie sneers.
Hannah laughs. "That's why it's called grace. None of us deserve it."
I pull into the school drop off lane and the conversation shifts to the predictable lines of sending them off to school.
"I love you, guys." I say. They each kiss me and I know it is not a slight thing. Then I say to each in turn, "Good things are going to happen..."
"To me and through me!" Jay says, stumbling out of the car.
"To me and through me," Stephanie says and rolls her eyes.
"I know, I know," Hannah says. I lift my eyebrows and she giggles. "To me and through me. I might be too old for this."
"Mom, I need something different," Sam says. "I know good things are going to happen to me and through me. Hearing you say it every morning is annoying."
I kiss his cheek. "Go be a blessing," I say, "And be blessed."
"Good one," he smiles at me.
They walk into the day. I grip the steering wheel and take a deep breath.
Bob Goff via Instagram
Grace is hard. It isn't for the the weak, and it isn't for the undisciplined. Grace is undeserved...and, according to Bob Goff, it leads us home.
That's worth the celebration.
*****
I hope we've become email friends. I've been playing with my newsletter and have decided to use
it as a place to offer stories, tips, and inspiration for teaching
writers. This content goes out to my my email friends before it's shared
anywhere else. On most Tuesdays, you can expect strategies for
teaching writers, delightful stories, or little updates about my
writing life.
Just add your email here and have encouragement for teaching writers delivered right to your inbox!
*****
I'm so happy you celebrate with me. It is true fuel for my soul.
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.
******
A month ago I met my friend, Becca for lunch. She gave me a miniature pot of Gerber Daisies. "They're my favorite!" I said when she handed them to me.
"I know," she said, "And they were too cute not to buy."
I brought them home and put them in my kitchen window sill. (Next to Jaws, Sam's Venus Flytrap.) It was a happy day, lunch with Becca, then celebrating Sam's birthday with a bowling with the buddies party. That morning I talked with my editor about the book and had positive feedback that fueled me for the final leg. I'd made lots of progress with a project at school and was caught up on email. I was on top of the world, feeling good professionally and as a writer, momma, and friend.
Things shifted that night and life became stormy. My flowers remained happy in the window. It was dark week, that first week of February, but my flowers remained a constant reminder of a very good day in a very good life.
They reminded me to live by Truth, not by feelings.
Then they did the thing all flowers do, the blooms wore out and needed pruned. You might be surprised to know that although I tend words just fine, plants are another story entirely. I have a real black thumb when it comes to flowers...a very black thumb. Once those beautiful blooms droop, there's very little hope of another round making an appearance.
I decided my best case scenario was to keep watering and maybe I could plant it in a summer pot. February was not an easy month. I kept watering the little plant even though I didn't think it mattered. There's no way more blooms would come. It continued to remind me to live by Truth, not by feelings. The truth was the plant needed water. My feelings said nothing would make a difference to make the plant bloom again. I'm destitute when it comes to blooms.
Mid-month, I noticed a peculiar shape in the center of my plant. If I weren't so sure there would never be another bloom, I might have recognized the bud. I kept watering and the bud grew. Soon there were two strong buds shooting up from the center of the plant. Not only was the plant creating new blooms, but I realized I was a different person too, a stronger parent than before.
The storms brewed through the month, but I continued to trust God is good, rather than believing my feelings. I watched the buds grow and was reminded that God is faithful -- He will forever regenerate the old and make new. The old blooms were droopy and worn, and the new were strong and straight.
Near the end of the month, a third bud sprung up on the little flower. It chuckled, reminding me that God is a God of abundance. I've been watching these buds for many days, that have turned to weeks. They keep growing and changing and each day I am sure they are going to burst into a bloom.
The storms can rage and a gentle flower can gain strength. The same is true for us. The winds can howl and the rains pelt and the dark clouds hunker down and we can still grow faith. We can still gain strength.
I couldn't wait for March. The calendar flipped and the grey of February was covered. I brewed my coffee and held the warm mug in my hands. I raised my eyes to the window sill and there, in the early hours of March 1, the buds burst and the petals began to unfold.
Anais Nin's words rang true 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."
Sometimes we can't trust our feelings. We must keep moving forward by faith because we know the truth of the matter is there is something greater than what we feel or see. We remain faithful and new growth is generated. We keep in step and new life begins to bud. We live well, but it doesn't mean we avoid storms. We believe in a good God, but it doesn't mean we never have heart ache.
A well-lived life is a series of seasons. It is my hope to embrace each one and take the risk to blossom.
*****
Are we email friends yet? I've been playing with my newsletter and have decided to use
it as a place to offer stories, tips, and inspiration for teaching
writers. This content goes out to my my email friends before it's shared
anywhere else. Next week, I'm sharing a small story from my family room floor and tugging a thread to find the way tiny stories lead to big meaning. On most Tuesdays, you can expect strategies for
teaching writers, delightful stories, or little updates about my
writing life.
Just add your email here and have encouragement for teaching writers delivered right to your inbox!
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.
******
It's mid-morning on a Friday and I'm walking in snow globe snow. The flakes are miniature. They float and twirl and spin. It's the same road I've walked for years, but it's transformed. It's more than being out for a walk on a Friday morning. (Thank you, three snow days in a row).
Daily walks keep me feeling my best. It was four days since I last walked and I could tell. Too much book writing and not enough walking make for shoulders that tingle, a hip that pulses, and a neck that aches.
The snow dances and it feels magical. I'm learning to be faithful in the small things. Walk every day. Cook more from scratch. Go to bed at bedtime. Write to my word count. Perhaps this is where the true magic lies. The magic of living well is in faith.
I used to strive for balance until I realized balance is in opposition to change. More than balance, I want to live a life hyped up on perpetual change, constant growth, and continual movement. I can't be balanced and do these things. To balance, one must be still. To balance in yoga poses, I must be still. To balance my coffee cup on the couch while I write, I must be still. Balance, even when on a bicycle, hinges on being still.
Stillness fights change as much as comfort belies growth.
Faith, on the other hand, hinges on living wild and unabashed. It means loving when it doesn't make sense to love more and giving when you don't have more to give and moving forward when you're not sure you have the energy to step. Faith is all about movement.
I've been studying some giants of the faith in scripture this week. I found that many run from God at some point in their lives. Moses. Elijah. David. Jonah. Do you know where they all end up? Every single one of them ends up in the wilderness...well Jonah ends up in the belly of a fish, which I think counts as a wilderness of sorts.
They run and end up in the wilderness. God finds them and insists they return to the thing from which they were running. It seems God gets his way when he commands his people to do something.
So if I'm determined to live this one life in a way that is most pleasing to the One who created me, then it seems that it means living by faith rather than in balance. It's not about stillness, but movement. It's not about comfort, but about change.
And when we move and change and love wildly, things get a little messy. It's nothing a little walk can't soothe -- especially when walking by the magic of faith.
*****
Choice Literacy is offering my Back to Writing Workshop Basics again! I put my heart and soul into this course and it is some of the best work I've ever done! A participant described it as a course that like tightening a favorite pair of sneakers. She was able to think about her writing workshop with intention and gained meaningful ideas for making everything run a little smoother.
When you register you receive the Day By Day book and Two Workshops DVD. If you are not already a member at Choice Literacy or Lead Literacy, you will receive a trial membership to each site. Plus we get to talk talk talk about your classroom and writers throughout the course. For more information, check it out here.
*****
Are we email friends yet? I've decided to revise my newsletter and use it as a place to offer stories, tips, and inspiration for teaching writers. This content goes out to my my email friends before it's shared anywhere else. Next week, I'm sharing a new assessment I've been using with several classrooms. On most Tuesdays, you can expect strategies for teaching writers, delightful stories, or little updates about my writing life.
Just add your email here and have encouragement for teaching writers delivered right to your inbox!
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'm not sure how this post is going to end up, I just know I need to sit here and allow what's in my heart to come out my fingers.
I'm so grateful to you. You show up and you celebrate. You leave encouragement for me in the form of comments and tweets and emails. You make me feel like my words matter. You've made me realize celebration matters.
A lot.
Sometimes, when we're in a storm, it's easy for darkness to cloud our vision. Things are a little stormy in my corner of the world. Rather than being caught in the darkness, I've turned to praise.
There is power in praise.
So this week I wake up and begin a list of gratitudes. I say thank you for --
A deep breath
Electricity
A warm cup of sweet coffee
Unwritten words
A text from a friend
I spend all of my energy on praise. I don't let clouds taint my thoughts. I don't get caught in the darkness. I don't focus on the storm.
Instead, I claim victory over darkness and I face light. I face light through celebration. So I say thank you for --
A note in the mail
Toes that wiggle
A steaming casserole
When I fill my head with gratitude, there is no space for darkness. I say thank you more, thank you for --
Crisp blue skies
Warm water
A full gas tank
Morning hugs
My mind has no space for worry. My mind has no place for hopelessness. My mind has no capacity for darkness. All day long, moment by moment, I find the celebration.
There is power in praise. Thank you for teaching me this by joining me each week to celebrate.
I debated whether to link celebrations during these holiday weekends, but I decided we must claim celebrations on the ordinary days and the holidays. I hope you carve out a few moments to document your celebrations. Merry Christmas & next week we'll celebrate Happy New Year!
It's pretty at Christmas time (even without the snow), and I think some of the prettiest decorations are nativity scenes. This season, I've been struck how our portrayal of the Christmas story is a prettied-up version of what happened that night. It was not a picture-perfect holiday card.
Mary was a teen mom who just gave birth in a dank barn. Joseph was clueless about how to be a dad. The cows, they stomped. The dirt, it stirred. Mary and Joseph tried to figure out what to do next. There was stress, little rest, and a big mess.
They didn't try to pretty things up. Rather, they leaned into the mess and chose to believe God to be who He said He would be. For it is written, "And blessed is she who believed in the fulfillment of what was spoken to her by the Lord."
Mary didn't need a camera filter to make the moment memorable. She didn't try to control this story line. Mary didn't manipulate, didn't run, didn't pretty things up. When everything was ugly she chose to believe God in the middle of the mess.
It's been a reminder for me this Christmas.
I post this family photo on social media and people like it and comment about our beautiful family. And I wonder if I'm a bit of a fraud.
This picture was taken in the midst of hard. The parents -- Andy and me -- we were making some tough parenting decisions. And the kids -- they were battling grief and anger and selfishness. They were questioning if family is forever and if they really belong in this family. They were reaching out to birthmothers and grieving birthmothers and trying not to despise birthmothers...all while trying to accept unconditional love from a forever momma who doesn't look one bit like they thought their momma should look. Meanwhile the glue of love was tested with a push and pull that would make concrete crack.
Yet we are a beautiful family -- a beautiful mess of a family. We aren't so different from every family, even the holy family, who started in a dirty stable in the middle of a mess. If you're looking for a reason to lean into the ugly this season, then let it be this. That baby, Jesus, He came to live next to the mess. He doesn't need things prettied up; He wants an act of radical trust.
In this favorite week leading up to Christmas, I could have given up on the hope that we are a beautiful family. Or I could have believed the lie that it's unfair to be a momma to kids who have experienced the ugliest this world has to offer. Or I could have allowed my joy to be stolen and my peace to perish.
Instead, I stood firmly in my belief that God is good and He works things for the good of those who love him and are working according to his purposes. It isn't always easy to believe in the goodness of God. The middle of the mess makes it easy to believe the ugly of things.
It's a battle I'm willing to fight, because ultimately I know, the messier my story, the more I can give God the glory.
This is my celebration -- I have a messy story that every now and then lives up to the pretty pictures. Today was one of those days. It was the best day ever for our little forever family. The. Best. Day. Ever. I can think of no better day, than the day we celebrate the Savior who saves us from the ugly, to claim as the best day ever.
