You hardly ever catch Him there. But usually there is evidence. I thought I heard someone at the door...It could have been the wind. The wind has caught the door before, although rare, and tried to make it a sail.
The I heard a car. Maybe Jesus would drive one of those gold Plymouths if He was here today. Then the car drove away.
I opened the door. There sat a beautiful violet print gift bag. Inside was a card and a large woven lap blanket from my church.
It was like getting a hug from Jesus.
Nowhere at the Speed of Light
I shot this OSU campus billboard last fall. Sky Bus was permanently grounded just over three weeks ago due to rising jet fuel costs.
Unless you walk or cycle, it seems fuel costs will continue
bleeding all of us who wish to travel ...
Well Armed
"We all know books burn - yet we have the greater knowledge that books cannot be killed by fire. People die, but books never die. No man and no force can abolish memory... In this war, we know books are weapons."
Franklin D. Roosevelt
Franklin D. Roosevelt
With this quote in mind, let it be said that
I have inherited quite an arsenal.
Wings
"From your parents you learn love and laughter and how to put one foot before the other. But when books are opened you discover that you have wings." ~Helen Hayes
I inherited every pair of my father's wings.
Good News Bad News
Good News: My poet friend Robert does NOT have MS. His brain lesions were cause by long term hypertension. The vision in his eye seems to be improving from blind to blurry thanks to a prednosone treatment.
__________________________
Bad News: Dear friend and Playwright "Jack Bunny" lost his beloved pet dog. It breaks my heart. I know how much I miss my cat Coco. I actually met Herman several times. No one growled at me the way he did. I will miss him. My deepest condolences to Jack and his family. Lately every one I talk to is being touched by loss.
____________________________
Good News: I've enjoyed a lot more conversations with my two brothers in the past few days than we've talked in years.
_________________________________
Bad News: Talking to them has been so stressful that my heart has been racing for a day and a half. First, trying to resolve a family property dispute and I an article about one of them is being published... Makes me wonder why they talk to me really. They probably wonder why they bother. I can still feel the love.
_____________________________________
But, with out the good and bad extremes, my life would be a boring flat line. I can't tell you how attractive that looks to me right now.
__________________________
Bad News: Dear friend and Playwright "Jack Bunny" lost his beloved pet dog. It breaks my heart. I know how much I miss my cat Coco. I actually met Herman several times. No one growled at me the way he did. I will miss him. My deepest condolences to Jack and his family. Lately every one I talk to is being touched by loss.
____________________________
Good News: I've enjoyed a lot more conversations with my two brothers in the past few days than we've talked in years.
_________________________________
Bad News: Talking to them has been so stressful that my heart has been racing for a day and a half. First, trying to resolve a family property dispute and I an article about one of them is being published... Makes me wonder why they talk to me really. They probably wonder why they bother. I can still feel the love.
_____________________________________
But, with out the good and bad extremes, my life would be a boring flat line. I can't tell you how attractive that looks to me right now.
Money for Nothing Check Scam?
Are you like us? It's payday, you've worked hard. To reward yourself for making it through another week, you might want to go out to dinner, maybe with your significant other. You may even see a flick or buy a new outfit. After all, on payday, you're flush, right?
Do you see this the way I do? April 15th is like the government's payday, right? They're flush, now, aren't they? So why are they borrowing money for this economic jump start check they're promising to so many?
It just had me asking more questions... like--
What did our government use for collateral to borrow that much money?
What if they don't borrow the money?
What if we didn't get checks?
What's going to happen to our economy then?
Are we postponing the inevitable?
Why wasn't 600 smackers taken right off the top of our taxes?
Do you see this the way I do? April 15th is like the government's payday, right? They're flush, now, aren't they? So why are they borrowing money for this economic jump start check they're promising to so many?
It just had me asking more questions... like--
What did our government use for collateral to borrow that much money?
What if they don't borrow the money?
What if we didn't get checks?
What's going to happen to our economy then?
Are we postponing the inevitable?
Why wasn't 600 smackers taken right off the top of our taxes?
Has anyone thought about what's gonna happen when the money needs to be paid back?
Does any one else think that this is a con job?
Day of the Lord
When I was a New Ager, practicing my daily asanas, reading my runes, carrying my stone of the day, or listening to the chanelers, they talked often of end times. How exciting it was going to be. How all the Christians would be rounded up and executed. How great life would be. My very first bible study came just days after I'd given my life to the Lord. Those were some of the most intimidating weeks of my life. I didn't know verses or passages or books. The study was on two of the shortest books in the Bible--Thessalonians.
My interest piqued when my sister explained these books prepare God's people for End Times, a phrase that I'd heard before, Biblically referred to as the Day of the Lord.
How will we know when the end times are coming?
1 Thessalonians 5
1Now, brothers, about times and dates we do not need to write to you, 2for you know very well that the day of the Lord will come like a thief in the night. 3While people are saying, "Peace and safety," destruction will come on them suddenly, as labor pains on a pregnant woman, and they will not escape.
1Now, brothers, about times and dates we do not need to write to you, 2for you know very well that the day of the Lord will come like a thief in the night. 3While people are saying, "Peace and safety," destruction will come on them suddenly, as labor pains on a pregnant woman, and they will not escape.
Inherited
“That was your choice? “ She said her tone flat. She eyes the overstuffed cartons, thick with dust.“And the shirt. Why do you say it like that?” I asked.
“It’s not a choice if you don’t pick it.” She rolled her eyes. “It looks like what was left.”
“I did pick it. It just wasn’t what you’d have chosen for me.”
I pulled the flannel shirt closer to my chest, breathing in the piny scent of it. Fresh cut wood. My eyes scanned a hundred spines stamped with titles, everyone of them a door into...
“You could have had the machine gun, or the wood shop’s inventory of tools. Or even the truck. But no. They packed up piles of worthless books, books with ridiculous titles that no one ever saw him read. They handed over tattered flannel button downs and a cheesy kit filled with tarnished brass nibs that no one has used since they invented bic pens. And you want me to believe that you intentionally chose those as your inheritance?”
“We agreed on it years ago. We’d talked about it many times, and he had offered me anything I wanted. It’s what I wanted.” I felt defensive and hoped she didn’t notice. I hoped my thrashing heart could not be heard by her.
“I’ll just take these to the car. Can you help me? They’re a little heavy,” I said.
I prayed that I wasn’t giving away any tells. Mostly I hoped she wouldn’t pull any of the volumes. Inside each volume was 250 pages of minted US bills. Each book a different denomination.
Life of Dreams
Sometimes it’s better not to know. I read Jack Bunny’s blog regarding people who pursue their dreams in spite of others thinking they will fail. It’s possible to succeed even when those who think they know us don’t believe in us. Some people are driven by these sorts of remarks. Some people are crushed by them.
Dreams are fragile things. Sometimes a downdraft is all it takes to snuff it out. I once heard a man say that people that come before us with their dreams trust us with a spark. They’re looking for fuel. We have a bucket of gasoline in one hand and a bucket of water in the other. We can either help ignite the fire or put it out. I like to think I have a bucket of gasoline in one hand and a fan in the other. What’s the harm in setting a dream in motion, or even fanning the flame?
We’ve all met people who were seasoned dream hunters. The second we laid out a thought toward the future, someone would be there, elephant gun in hand, ready to shoot it down. Do you remember these people? The bigger the dream the more likely it is to be hunted. We learn very quickly who we can’t trust with our creative ideas. We become guarders of our dreams.
Do you remember the one who believed in you? How many of your dreams have come to pass? Who do you credit with feeding your dreams? If you knew you would not fail, what would you attempt to do?
Words of Success
If you can find a path with no obstacles,
it probably doesn't lead anywhere.
~~Frank A. Clark Writer
Imminent Meltdown
Right now, My desktop computer is more like me than I would care for people to know. It runs slow. Instead of taking the usual few moments to react to the keys I’ve pressed, it takes minutes. Three attempts at software updates failed. Ad aware is out of date and after less than ten minutes, the computer has disengaged from the net. Windows defender seems stumped.“Your current software is out of date…” Six weeks after the fact, the loss of someone so significant in my life still does not compute.
“Your computer failed to install updates.” I understand that person is no longer alive. I saw it with my own eyes. And yet, it seems the information will neither install or unpack itself. The conflict lies somewhere between what has always been and the new reality.
“Your connection has been lost. Retry?” Some days, I wake up feeling great. I think this is going to be a wonderful day. Once I start getting into my day, I realize how overwhelmed I feel. I pull back. Retry?
No. Not today. Today I feel too close to the edge, like over heating, maybe my hair is sending up little wisps of smoke. My brain is catching....
Maybe after a day alone, a good cry or some prayer, music, or possibly a good night’s sleep, the reset button will gain functionality.
We’ll try again...
tomorrow.
HAPPY SEVENTY FIVE!
Well, I just want to shout out to my Dad a happy seventyfifth birthday! In honor of this day, a new blog is opening to commemorate all things Dad. The One and Only Bob.
If you have pictures or stories you want posted here, or you would like to be one of the contibutors to this blog, email me and let me know. If you want to send me more recent pictures than what I have of you with dad, send them too! It's evolving, a work in progress.
All the kids who grew up at my house probably remember having a big frosted cake with candles to blow out. If you could ponder and make your wish, tongue the frosting off the plastic petalshaped candle holders, it was a great birthday. Does anyone else remember that arm-length butcher knife we used to cut the cake? I still picture 50 twitching fingers itching to dip into the icing. It was a bonus if one of the boys didn't slosh purple Kool Aid all over your bag o' gifts. Remember how we all used to play nice? Somethings haven't changed.
Who remembers Dad's favorite kind of cake?
Birthday Tribute
My Dad the DreamerLooking out second-story windows we saw city sunsets cut through with telephone wires and pierced by electric poles. Exhaust fumes hung heavy in the air, except in those first few moments after a rainstorm. My dad is a dreamer.
“We’ll have a house in the country one day with fresh air and a big wide open sky. Every night sunsets will be painted all the way across as far as we can see,” my dad said. In my eight-year-old mind, God’s watercolors washed across the heavens. How could my Dad see beyond now into the future? I saw swatches of firmament between tall brick buildings and neatly rowed two-story houses. I didn’t see our new house in the country.
The summer after I turned ten, Dad bought a piece of country land with a real dirt road along side. We stood atop our knoll, surrounded by five acres of goldenrod, milkweed and thistles. Facing west, we watched the sun dip behind the maple woods. When the colors began to rainbow across the clear expanse, he winked at me. That moment, a dream became real.
“The front window of our new house will face the sunset and we’ll watch them every night,” he said, unwrapping another dream for me. One day we’ll leave our three-bedroom walk-up and live in a four-bedroom ranch-style home with a family room.
Before I started the sixth grade, we moved into our new, not-quite-finished house. Aside from the appliances and a cold-water sink the kitchen hadn’t been constructed.
“All you kids will get to help me build the kitchen,” Dad said. “When it’s done we’ll have a big banana-split party and you can each invite a friend.” For two years he made mounds of oak sawdust. He mopped up small white puddles of hide glue after clamping precision-cut pieces of wood together, making all the cabinets, doors and drawers. We kids sanded miles of board feet and rubbed off the fine grit from reams of sandpaper, making sharp edges soft. When we finished our project, an eat-in bar stood between the kitchen and the dining room with honey-stained, solid-wood cabinets above and below on all four walls. I was fifteen.
Just as I dreamed, friends came over for a banana-split party. My dad scooped everybody’s choice of flavors into banana-lined bowls. We topped ice cream balls with caramel, strawberry syrup and chocolate sauce. All afternoon, my dad practically glowed with pride in that kitchen. Our friends saw the sunset through the front windows of our new house.
“I want to accomplish so many projects,” Dad said. “I’ll have to live to be to get them all finished.” Just like that, another dream planted itself in my head, where it lived until I turned forty-two.
Then, Dad had a heart attack. Because of complications, the doctors didn’t expect him to live through the night. I drove a hundred miles to stand by his ICU bed. I tried to think of something to hold his unconscious body to this side of Heaven.
“I always dreamed you’d live to be a-hundred-and-twenty. You still have fifty-one years left.” I said. He kept right on living. Four years later, my dad is still a dreamer. Because of him, I am too.
Tweaks and Rewrites
Jack Bunny found the PDF version of my recent
rewrite to Alyce Times One in his e-mail yesterday.
It's liberating and a little daunting to think about rewriting a full length play. A few scenes were a little spare and needed fattening, a few might've needed trimmed. But once I began it swept me away. The story barely pauses to let one catch their breath. I like that.
He wrote back that he was thrilled. And proud of me! (smile)
I always feel a little guilty when someone/anyone says kind things about something (in this case writing dialog) that's so easy for me. I think, how could I have sweat over this more? But I trusted his talent to direct and redirect where necessary and that he wouldn't let me screw up his Baby (play).
The pages open before me and draw me into the dialog. It becomes so real that I start recognizing what should be said. If they didn't say that, then I scribble in what sounds appropriate. As a writer mentor once said, "Make every word fight for it's life."
A few more punch lines, were added, a few less redundancies (hopefully) and a really powerful story just evolved, yet it remained true to the direction.
In the beginning of the second act, Scene two. Jack and Alyce Peterson are together and he's prodding her memory.
"What do you remember?"
I chose this after several less colorful options, mainly because it easily allowed blanks to be filled that clarified the last event from the first act and bridged to the final scene with out introducing any more characters.
I can't wait to see where it goes, or what happens next. Mr. Bunny's been getting that feeling like something amazing is about to happen. Now, I'm waiting to see the fruit from that tree!
We'll keep you in the loop about production as soon as we can cut it in stone. Wink wink!
Flying Over Memory Lane with the Eagles
I can't say enough about the Eagles recent album, Long Road Out of Eden. Aside from the fabulous price, $11.99, it contained two discs.
I enjoyed hearing the long absent voice of Joe Walsh (sounding just as fresh as when life was go
od to him before) and some new guitar riffs that hearkened back to Hotel California.
Their catchy tunes and thought-provoking lyrics
reminded me of all the reasons I liked them so much to begin with.
Many of us have heard artists who recorded past their prime and no doubt been a little disheartened.
Would this now two -decades-older band play as great , sound the same, on this reunion CD as we all remembered?
I'm happy to report, they didn't disappoint. The Eagles inimitable group sound remains as strong as ever. The quality of their voices will take you back to the good old days. Almost like they'd been put on pause instead of taking off in five different directions. The title track will probably become a new classic for this amazing band.
If you get out to Walmart, pick up a copy. You won't find it anywhere else.
I enjoyed hearing the long absent voice of Joe Walsh (sounding just as fresh as when life was go
od to him before) and some new guitar riffs that hearkened back to Hotel California.Their catchy tunes and thought-provoking lyrics
reminded me of all the reasons I liked them so much to begin with.
Many of us have heard artists who recorded past their prime and no doubt been a little disheartened.
Would this now two -decades-older band play as great , sound the same, on this reunion CD as we all remembered?
I'm happy to report, they didn't disappoint. The Eagles inimitable group sound remains as strong as ever. The quality of their voices will take you back to the good old days. Almost like they'd been put on pause instead of taking off in five different directions. The title track will probably become a new classic for this amazing band.
If you get out to Walmart, pick up a copy. You won't find it anywhere else.
Reading List
I've just finished Michel Faber's Some Rain Must Fall. I usually don't read fiction but I'm studying word painting lately. I can't recommend it with out at least a PG warning to my Christian friends based on some language, but if you're interested in collections of short fiction it seemed a pretty worthwhile read.Although my reading list will most likely never mirror the New York Times Best sellers list I'll share with you some of the titles I'm perusing on my way to Nod:
Poems and Short Stories by Dorothy Parker, Grieving the Loss of Someone You Love by Raymond Mitch and Lynn Brookside, My Dream of Heaven by Rebecca Ruter Springer, and a book from my favorite series: The Best American Essays of 1992 with Susan Sontag and Robert Atwan. (Also 2002, and 2007)
So far in this particular essay collection, I have obtained 94, 97, 99, 2003-2006. The series began in 1984 and I've yet to see a copy from then, but I would love to collect them all.
What are you reading?
Christians
"Christians" by Maya AngelouWhen I say... "I am a Christian"
I'm not shouting "I'm clean livin'."
I'm whispering "I was lost,
Now I'm found and forgiven."
When I say... "I am a Christian"
I don't speak of this with pride.
I'm confessing that I stumble
and need Christ to be my guide.
When I say... "I am a Christian"
I'm not trying to be strong.
I'm professing that I'm weak
And need His strength to carry on.
When I say... "I am a Christian"
I'm not bragging of success.
I'm admitting I have failed
And need God to clean my mess.
When I say... "I am a Christian"
I'm not claiming to be perfect,
My flaws are far too visible
But, God believes I am worth it.
When I say... "I am a Christian"
I still feel the sting of pain.
I have my share of heartaches
So I call upon His name.
When I say... "I am a Christian"
I'm not holier than thou,
I'm just a simple sinner
Who received God's good grace, somehow!
First Color of Spring
"A good book contains more wealth than a good bank."
Roy L. Smith
I'm tweaking the latest play that I co-wrote with Jack Bunny. It has been really a lot of fun working on this project with such an accomplished mentor. Who knows, maybe it will sweep the country and be playing on a stage near you! We'll keep you posted.
Roy L. Smith
I'm tweaking the latest play that I co-wrote with Jack Bunny. It has been really a lot of fun working on this project with such an accomplished mentor. Who knows, maybe it will sweep the country and be playing on a stage near you! We'll keep you posted.
Words as Seeds
"Can you grow kumquats here?" Wei-Ching asked. "I've always liked kumquats."
"I can grow just about anything you like!" Hsun-ching boasted. "You tell me what you want, and I'll plant it."
Wei-Ching laughed and said, "Too bad you can't plant books."
Mark Salzman in The Laughing Sutra
But if you could, what would you plant? What would grow out of it?
"I can grow just about anything you like!" Hsun-ching boasted. "You tell me what you want, and I'll plant it."
Wei-Ching laughed and said, "Too bad you can't plant books."
Mark Salzman in The Laughing Sutra
But if you could, what would you plant? What would grow out of it?
Living to the Full
Today feels like a good day. I think the sun has a lot to do with it, the temperature, a balmy 68 degrees with a touch of breeze. Nine to five Harley riders everywhere are watching the clock for punch out time thinking about a few hours of wind and freedom after work. I have seen and heard a few bikes thunder by already.Gordo took me on the first ride of the year this weekend. Ahhhhhhh. I feel happy, like someone else, living a different life when I'm riding. I know he is happiest then too, unfettered by the demands of pedestrian life.
Everyone seems a bit less freewheeling since Dad died. One aunt seemed slightly horrified that I would risk my life on a motorcycle.
"You don't go on the interstate do you?"
"Yeah, I do."
"On a bike?"
I wanted to say, It's not just any bike, Auntie, it's a Harley.
Might I remind everyone that we are all going to die someday. Of something. I'm not going to hide in a corner and wait for death to come get me. To me, fear is a slow death. The closing off of possibility until you find yourself surrounded by a box.
They say my dad died before his time. Who knows if he really died before his time? He didn't have some digital countdown clock embedded on his body to indicate that. Even if I died tomorrow who would know if I died before mine? I still believe in the sovereignty of God.
I don't wake up mornings thinking, "I could have died in a house fire, or a tornado." But it happens to people. There are no safe places where Death cannot find you or me. People have been shot in church and school, at home and in the street. They've died in their tubs, in beds and at the hands of their children or their parents. People have died in vehicle accidents (since 1899). They've died eating, drinking and laughing. They've died at work, at leisure and on vacation.
People have been killed by falling coconuts, sky debris and freak bolts of lightning out of the blue. The Good Lord protects who He protects and calls whomever He calls. If the Lord calls, you go. He doesn't leave messages.
My dad died in his safe driveway. It could have happened in traffic. On the way home from church. At church. He didn't know how he would go. And I don't dwell on that. Certainly I don't get on a bike thinking how my life will end, or afraid that it might. We are as careful and watchful as we can be. I suppose I'll ride until it's out of my system or Gordo tires of it.
Know this: I am not afraid to live and I am not afraid to die. I will live out all the days the Lord has planned for me. There's no death wish here.
It would be ideal to die in my sleep at home when that day comes, given my choice, that's what I'd pick. If the good Lord is interested, I'd like a no suffering or lingering clause.
I know where I'm going after this and until He calls, I'm living to the full.
Inking Along the Way
As of this post, I've already out written last year's entire blog The Radical Write. Granted it wasn't a 365. But last year I wasn't consistent in writing every week. For me it was a grow into it experience. This is usually my first writing of the day and then I go on to write many more pages.I must commend my friend and relatively new writer who manages to keep up with interesting points and thought provoking posts pretty often--Modern Musings and Toys. Because he agreed to a 365 blog also, he sparks me to keep writing mine. As do you. Thanks for reading!
The One Thing
I’m friends with a woman whom I have always thought to be incredibly strong. I met her in a single mom’s group when I was a single mom. She had shared with me that she wasn’t going to let her divorce get her down.She committed to do the one thing: putting on her lipstick every day.
“This became my defiant refusal to give in to the despair, fear, worry, self-doubt, etc; that I was battling on the inside," she said. "So, for me, taking the time to face myself in the mirror each morning, affirming my worth by making the best of what I've got to work with, taking a few minutes just for me, carefully highlighting my smile (and yes, damn it, I am going to smile!)... "
Every morning, willing or not, depressed or not, she pulled herself up out of bed and applied her lipstick. I’ve never forgotten my friend’s determination. It reminded me that just maybe during this grieving process, I already have my one thing.
I started this 365 blog just a few days before tragedy came, because another friend mentioned it in passing on her blog. I have to laugh at how many people recommend writing through such an event. Maybe Joan Didion’s book The Year of Magical Thinking was just such an exercise.
Eventually, we get through the period of time that causes us so much pain. When you look over your life what pulls you through? What is your one thing?
Dark Spring
Some days I wake up and think, today will be a great day. I already feel light. More so if the sun is shining. I feel like I'm going to be okay.Then I remember. My mind slips to autopilot doing daily chores that should be done. If I'm still overwhelmed and can't think, I clean.
Today, a month ago, we sat in the stone chapel while sharply dressed military men recited from a piece of paper their gratitude for dad's service to his country. When they fired their rounds into the sky, I heard the brass casings ping off the bricks. Then they handed a folded triangular flag to my step mom.
I still couldn't believe it. I couldn't connect to it, actually felt like I was watching this happen to other people, not me or my family. Even thought I stood in the hospital and heard the pronouncement, still know the time of day, can see through the window to outside, still see several people milling around looking morose. It just happened. It feels like the day before yesterday.
I don't remember much of the last 31 days, making 31 pots of coffee, packing lunches or doing laundry but once, even though I did it every week.
I Can't, and I Don't Care fight over who will own my day. I walk Sam to school and then walk on to the Library where no one bothers me.
The great news I received yesterday about the publications thrilled me and even made me smile, and I hung onto it as long as I could. But by evening I could barely breathe for crying.
My dad isn't around to hear my good news and cheer me on. It was like seeing a candle go out. My world felt a little lonelier, a little darker and a little sadder too. He was that powerful encourager for many, I realized. His words rewarded that drive to succeed, that need to be recognized, appreciated, patted on the back.
I missed it, missed him. In that moment, the loss crystallized into grief. The kind of grief that folds a person in two and pulls their eyelids into flat crinkles had finally found me.
My lightness slipped away and I wanted to take my sad self and heavy heart back to bed. After some cleansing tears, the Lord reminded me that I have a circle of people who are very excited about the accomplishments of my life. They enjoy being included in the good reports. And just so you know, I am really grateful more than ever for those who love me.
Recent Publication
I had the pleasure of contributing 4 dates to this anthology. It made me smile when the email announcing publication arrived yesterday.This is not your typical "Christian" book. At the time I heard about this project, editor Patricia Lorenz had already gotten repeats of popular Bible quotes. I submitted my work based on famous author and artist quotes (which I collect) and all but one of my submissions were accepted.
If you're looking for a daily dose of inspiration, wondering if you have what it takes to be a writer, or just want to see what some other writers think about as they work, this book could be just what you're looking for. It's filled with funny anecdotes, tips on writing and a thought provoking quote for each day.
Daily Devotions for Writers is the brain child of Patricia Lorenz who worked tirelessly to complete the book as a fundraiser for The Writing Academy (www.wams.org) Look below for more information about the book and how to get your copy.
Daily Devotions for Writers by: Patricia Lorenz (Author)
ISBN: 0-7414-4594-8 ©2008
Price: $19.95
Book Size: 5.5'' x 8.5'' , 397 pages
Category/Subject: SELF-HELP / Motivational & Inspirational
Daily Devotions for Writers is the friend every writer needs: warm, real-life stories, prayers, and inspirational quotes to keep you writing every day of the year! Daily Devotions for Writers provides 366 true stories about the highs, lows, struggles, and joys of writing. This daily pick-me-up is a must-have for those who write professionally, for themselves, or for their families. The page-a-day readings include a short prayer and an inspirational quote. Daily Devotions for Writers takes you by the hand every day and shares real-life experiences to keep you writing. This friendly guide makes a perfect gift for yourself—or any writer in your life!
If Daily Devotions for Writers doesn’t crack through writer’s block, nothing will. This is a handbook no writer should be without. The real-life, page-a-day stories for every day of the year come from two hundred writers of all levels of expertise—from the most highly sought-after Christian writers in the country to those for whom this is their first publication. Daily Devotions for Writers depicts the joy, pain, ecstasy, agony, highs, lows, excuses, persistence, and pleasure writers go through in the quest to be published and share God’s word.
In addition to real-world advice about how to write, when to write, where to write, and what to write, Daily Devotions for Writers includes inspirational quotes and short prayers to help the words keep flowing.
Daily Devotions for Writers was compiled under the auspices of The Writing Academy (www.wams.org), which in 2008 celebrates thirty years of fellowship and teaching writers to share God’s good news with a hurting world. The nonprofit organization’s instructional program includes courses in basic writing skills, essays, fiction, non-fiction, poetry, drama, devotional, myth, metaphor, memoir, and writing for children.
ISBN: 0-7414-4594-8 ©2008
Price: $19.95
Book Size: 5.5'' x 8.5'' , 397 pages
Category/Subject: SELF-HELP / Motivational & Inspirational
Daily Devotions for Writers is the friend every writer needs: warm, real-life stories, prayers, and inspirational quotes to keep you writing every day of the year! Daily Devotions for Writers provides 366 true stories about the highs, lows, struggles, and joys of writing. This daily pick-me-up is a must-have for those who write professionally, for themselves, or for their families. The page-a-day readings include a short prayer and an inspirational quote. Daily Devotions for Writers takes you by the hand every day and shares real-life experiences to keep you writing. This friendly guide makes a perfect gift for yourself—or any writer in your life!
If Daily Devotions for Writers doesn’t crack through writer’s block, nothing will. This is a handbook no writer should be without. The real-life, page-a-day stories for every day of the year come from two hundred writers of all levels of expertise—from the most highly sought-after Christian writers in the country to those for whom this is their first publication. Daily Devotions for Writers depicts the joy, pain, ecstasy, agony, highs, lows, excuses, persistence, and pleasure writers go through in the quest to be published and share God’s word.
In addition to real-world advice about how to write, when to write, where to write, and what to write, Daily Devotions for Writers includes inspirational quotes and short prayers to help the words keep flowing.
Daily Devotions for Writers was compiled under the auspices of The Writing Academy (www.wams.org), which in 2008 celebrates thirty years of fellowship and teaching writers to share God’s good news with a hurting world. The nonprofit organization’s instructional program includes courses in basic writing skills, essays, fiction, non-fiction, poetry, drama, devotional, myth, metaphor, memoir, and writing for children.
A Trio of Haiku
Father's Advice
You always said,
Anything is possible.
I want to live that.
Work He Loved
Wood sap, splinters saws,
Sandpaper, stain and varnish
Our kitchen you built.
Things I'll Miss
Navy stories, your way
Sunrise, sunsets through your eyes.
Hearing "Hey, that's great!"
Sharing in Grief
In a moment of clarity, I sent a post out to the online writers group I'm blessed to be a part of, asking for people to write on the loss of their fathers if they had a good relationship.The response was better than I hoped. Many of the writers shared the parting of their fathers with me, the kind words that were spoken over them, their last words and great memories.
The great memories do make me smile ... even if I'm crying.
The tears I cried reading about these dads were partly for myself and because they were so well written, that I couldn't help but feel the gravity of each writer's loss. It might seem strange that listening to others share their pain feels healing to the heart.
My friend gave me a book I'm reading on Grief which is not so much about the stages of grief, but the facets of grief and how normal they are. It helps to know what's coming, I suppose, what others experienced. It helps to know there is no real time frame and that it will be different for everyone.
I've found a new circle of people who are willing to help me get through this.Thanks to all who have shared their stories and their hearts with me. God bless each and everyone of you.
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