Cover Reveal!

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Hello my dear reader friends! I am so sorry it has been so long since you’ve heard from me in this space. I have been most active over on my Instagram account. So, if you want to hear more from me, make sure you’re following me there!

But, I had to dust off ye olde blog to share some crazy exciting news with you–the cover to my debut novel, A Dance in Donegal!

But first, here’s a little bit about the book:

All of her life, Irish-American Moira Doherty has relished her Irish mother’s descriptions of her homeland. When her mother dies unexpectedly in the summer of 1920, Moira accepts the challenge to fulfill her mother’s wish that she become the teacher in Ballymann, the homeland village in Donegal, Ireland.

After an arduous voyage, Moira arrives to a new home and a new job in an ancient country. Though a few locals offer a warm welcome, others are distanced by superstition and suspicion. Rumors about Moira’s mother are unspoken in her presence, but threaten to derail everything she’s journeyed to Ballymann to do.Moira must rely on the kindness of a handful of friends—and the strength of an unsettlingly handsome thatcher who keeps popping up unannounced. While Moira learns to trust Sean and his intentions, she struggles to navigate a life she’d never dreamed of . . . but perhaps was meant to live.

I cannot believe what a phenomenal job the design team at Revell did with this cover. They took my ideas and ran with them, and came up with something better than I could have envisioned. I hope you enjoy it, too!

Without further ado, I present to you the cover of A Dance in Donegal:

A Dance in Donegal releases February 2, but is available for pre-order now! Don’t miss out! When you pre-order, your book ships as soon as it’s available, and in some cases you get it even before release date!

Preorder at any of these places:

Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/dp/0800738411

Baker Book House: https://bakerbookhouse.com/products/235823

Books-a-Million: https://www.booksamillion.com/p/Dance-Donegal/Jennifer-Deibel/9780800738419?id=7932129264040&_ga=2.52288044.465696534.1593212930-125113959.1593212930#

IndieBound: https://www.indiebound.org/book/9780800738419

More ordering sites to come!

And if a new book isn’t in your budget right now, ask your library to order it! 🙂

I can’t wait for you to journey to the wilds of Donegal with Moira and the gang!

Are We There Yet?

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Another lifetime ago, we lived overseas. And during that time, we were able to take a family trip to London. On that trip, one thing stood out to my children above all others. Bigger than the London Eye, more impressive than the Crown Jewels, even more memorable than the mac’n’cheese at the Hard Rock Cafe.

The walking.

We walked everywhere. And we walked for ages, and ages. At least in their little minds, and to their little feet, we did. Now bear in mind, at the time, we lived in a small village in rural Ireland. There just wasn’t that much within walking distance, and if you did walk somewhere, you were likely taking your life in your hands because there were either no sidewalks, or they were really, really narrow. So, needless to say, we drove just about everywhere we had to go.

This trip was before we moved to Vienna and utilized public transport everyday, so I was worried about how they would fare navigating the underground, hopping on and off buses and trains, being schlepped here, there and everywhere by their well-meaning parents who were going to “show them some history.” However, there’s apparently something highly exotic and exciting about getting to go somewhere with no seatbelt and standing up! Exotic and exciting aside, there was often just One thing they wanted to know:

Are we there yet?!?

I couldn’t blame them, really. Sometimes the question was asked out of excitement. Take, for instance, the Crown Jewels. Having watched the royal wedding, and nearly every Disney princess movie known to man, they were giddy with excitement about seeing the queen’s crown. So, the hour long tour we took before entering the jewel house was, to them, nothing short of medieval torture. Other times, it was asked from sheer exhaustion. Like when we walked for over half an hour in the wrong direction towards our dinner destination, only to have to retrace our steps and cross the city and then still have to wait nearly two hours for a table.

In either case, every time they asked the question, I tried to point out all of the great things we were seeing along the way. But they just weren’t interested. They had their eyes on the “prize”, and nothing was going to distract them.

It was sometime during one of these lovely little exchanges with my wee cherubs that it hit me like a ton of bricks. I might as well have been a pot trying to get the attention of my two little kettles. My entire life flashed before my eyes (only not in that weird pre-death sense).

A good chunk of my life has been spent riding the “are we there yet?” underground train. I hop on the train, wait for that one thing – an engagement ring, the wedding, a baby, the book contract – and then surface just long enough to see my destination. Then I submerge again until the next thing. In the meantime, how many wonderful things do I miss out on along the way because I just want to be there?

I think, if only I can get there, I’ll be happy and can enjoy the journey. The only problem is, there never feels like there! There will always be another there. Another tooth to break through, another grumpy teacher to deal with, another pound to lose, another medical battle to fight.

And these days, following the signing of my very first book contract, it is so tempting for me to wish for the next there. The title to be finalized. The cover to be set and revealed. The book to be done and in my hot little hands already!

Meanwhile, I’m missing out on life. You see, it was in those two hours in London waiting for a table that we had some of the best conversations with the people we were with. It was on those long walks between sights that I got to hold my daughter’s hand, or carry my son, and listen to their stories and questions and songs. The best parts of my vacation happened between all of the “must sees.” And it was in the years of waiting for this contract that I built incredible relationships with unbelievably kind people who helped me learn invaluable lessons I needed before I could even be ready for a book! I just need to take a lesson from London and experience and enjoy the journey as much as the destinations along the way.

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What about you? What is your “there” right now? Are you missing out on things you could be enjoying?

This post is an updated version of one that appeared on this blog back in 2011.

5 Battle Tools to Help in Hard Moments – {Guest Post & GIVEAWAY!}

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If you’ve been around my little corner of the Interwebz for the last few years, first of all— thank you! Secondly, you know my family has been through the ringer. A few times. I’m currently on my fourth job in as many years, we’ve lived in two foreign countries and learned as many languages, I’ve been diagnosed with Hashimoto’s, and I‘ve written recently about my struggles to find real friendship since moving back to the states.

To say I’ve had some hard moments in the last several years would be an understatement. I also know, you all have had your fair share of hard moments, too. That’s why I’m so excited to host Kelly Balarie on ye olde blog today!

She has some wonderful, practical tips to help in those hard moments. 

Be sure to read all the way to the end and enter to win a copy of Battle Ready!

So, read on for some good stuff!

5 Battle Tools To Help In Hard Moments

By: Kelly Balarie

She didn’t so much as say hi to me. In fact, even worse, she walked right past me, looking the other direction. She pretended I wasn’t there.

Hmph!! After all I’ve done for her. After all I’ve given her. After how I’ve gone out of my way to love her.  Now I’m the one left looking like a crazed waving-at-the-air fool.  Like – an idiot.

I humph at her husband along the way to my church seat. Silently, I critique her in my mind, She’s rude. Before not too long, Iget side-tracked by own thoughts: Everyone always hurts me. Like that boy, I asked to dance in 4th grade. Like those girls who circled up to whisper about me in that damp locker room. Like the group of women who act like they’re far better than me.

I’m supposed to be listening in church, but who can listen, thinking about all this, all them!? Here, I find myself, in the heat of a horrible battle.

You can always tell if you’re in the heat-of-a-battle. Almost instantly, your soul-crushing problem magnifies 100x larger than your promise-keeping God. Suddenly, you’re standing weaponless, in all-out combat within your own mind. Hardly able to win.

Ever been there? I’ve struggled through a lot – through massive health-scares, depression, an eating disorder, financial debt and relationship-severing dramas. Battles. Huge, hard-fought battles, loaded with momentary decisions of pain, struggle and uncertainty. I remember the time:

  1. The doctor returned to the room with the clipboard saying, “You really might have Mulitple Sclerosis.”
    I thought: How do I keep my thoughts close to God with this kind of news?
  2. My colicky newborn made me pace my hallways 24-7. Sleepless, hardly-thinking and powerless to change my health-situation, I didn’t know what to do.

I thought: How do I still love people when my whole life is unraveling?

  1. A family member called me to say I really should get on setting up long-term care for myself.

I thought: How do I deal with the fact all my dreams will now look different than I thought? Through all this, I realized, real wisdom is having a battle-plan. Let’s talk about Christ-centered battle-plan preparedness. Begin by asking yourself: What am I currently facing? Identifying your main struggles (resentment, regret, trauma, unforgiveness, bitterness, anger, fear) is to allow God to help you win your battle. For example, for me, underneath that issue with the girl, was an old war full of rejection, humiliation, and abandonment from years past. Underneath, were old battles I’d lost – because they were left unaddressed. Therefore, they left me with resentment towards God. Seeing our battles for what they are, gives us a clear-cut strategy to fight – and win.  It also removes all the pent-up offenses that, like plaque, cover our heart. What about you? Do you emotionally respond to happenings set before you or do you wisely act based on God’s Word and promises?Today, you can fight your battle a new way. Consider:

  1. Asking God what feelings of fear, worry, anger, resentment, neglect and hurt He desires you give to him.
  2. Giving those hurts to Jesus, by saying, “Jesus, I am not meant to carry these. Forgive me. They’ve hurt me for far too long. I know and believe you have peace, joy, life and freedom for me as I give you these things.”
  3. Blessing any women who have hurt you.
  4. Reframing your moments of hurt. (Example: when she passed by me quickly, she was probably was in a rush, she might have had something to do or she lost in thought)
  5. Returning to a heart of love. (Example: Thank you God that you love me and I can love others. In fact, I can love the very person who hurt me by ___.)

This is the start of being Battle Ready. There truly are practical insights, wise biblical instructions and truths that can help you rise above the mayhem of trials and hardships. You can find the light of Christ and step into all God has for you. The victory belongs to the Lord. Isn’t it time you began to make room for it?  About Battle Ready: Train Your Mind to Conquer Challenges, Defeat Doubt & Live Victoriously “The best time to be strengthened against the Enemy’s tactics of doubt, disappointment, and devastation is before he makes his first move toward us. We all desperately need the biblical guidance and preparation found in Battle Ready!”Lysa TerKeurst, New York Times bestselling author and president of Proverbs 31 Ministries  Battle Ready is a hands-on scriptural plan that teaches you twelve easy-to-implement, confidence-building mind-sets designed to transform your thoughts and, therefore, your life. You’ll gain practical wisdom, like how to· make new habits stick in just five steps
· disarm the seven most common attacks that plague women
· exchange self-limiting thoughts for purpose-driven, love-releasing thoughts
· implement thirty-second mind-lifters that deliver peace
· create boundaries so you live life full of what matters Buy Battle Ready here: https://amzn.to/2l5qQrw To get Battle Ready freebies – printables, devotional reminders, a customizable daily Battle Plan and the “Find Your Battle Style” quiz, visit: www.iambattleready.com  To order the companion Battle Ready Daily Prayer Journal that will help you practically change your thoughts, then your life, visit:   Kelly Balarie, an author and national speaker, is on a mission to encourage others not to give up. Through times of extreme testing, Kelly believes there is hope for every woman, every battle and in every circumstance. She shares this hope on her blog, Purposeful Faith, and on many writing publications such as Relevant, Crosswalk, and Today’s Christian Woman. Kelly’s work has been featured on The Today Show, 700 Club Interactive, Moody Radio and other television and radio broadcasts. When Kelly is not writing, she is chilling at the beach with her husband, a latte, and 2-toddlers who rightfully demand she build them awesome castles.

Click here to enter the giveaway!

When Motherhood Doesn’t Make Sense

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It’s a very interesting thing, Motherhood.

It’s the ultimate battle of wills between selfishness and selflessness. I remember the first time I every truly pondered this struggle over several nights as I, nursing my own cold, had been nursing my then youngest as she dealt with her own ear infection—up all night crying, unconsolable, not wanting to be with anyone but Mommy.

Yes, it’s an odd place to be…being a Mom. Constantly being torn between equally strong desires to snuggle down in your own warm covers and sleep for 2 days, and wanting desperately to do anything necessary to bring some measure of comfort to your child.

Read the rest of this post HERE.

 

 

The Miracle of Grown-Up Friendship

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Friendship.

That word has been rolling around in my mind for months now.

Who is your best friend?

Hopefully, someone (or a few someones) immediately popped into your mind, along with flashes of all the amazing memories you’ve made together.

However, if you’re over the age of 30, I’d venture to guess you had to think for a minute. Maybe you’re still thinking.

Granted, I believe friendship changes as we get older; as we mature. Perhaps with age comes the diminished need for a large pool of friends, and possibly even distinguishing a BFF. Perhaps our needs and interests shift to cherishing deeper, more meaningful relationships, even if that means we enjoy fewer of them. Quality over quantity and all that.

I’m turning 40 later this year, and in so many ways I’m more comfortable in my own skin—in who I am as a person and a woman—than I ever have been. However, in the area of friendship, I find myself increasingly self-conscious and unconfident.

In chatting with a gal I consider my closest friend after my husband (incidentally, this friend lives several states over, and we’ve never enjoyed our friendship living in close proximity to one another), I realized that the last time I had a really close, deep friendship with someone in person was five years ago. Five. Years.

Now, I’ve had wonderful friendships during that five year span. Just nothing as deep, personal, and intimate as the friendships I enjoyed previously.

I’ve also come to realize, much to my chagrin, that I am far lonelier living here in America than I ever was as an ex-pat. A fact that shocks and saddens me.

I was beginning to wonder what in the world was wrong with me. Why was I no longer able to start and build deep, intimate friendships with the women in my life? Then I came across a tweet that stopped me in my tracks:

I mean.

I literally laughed out loud, nodded my head, and then sobered. With 112,000 retweets and 440,000 likes, this thought clearly struck a cord.

So, why is it so many of us in the 30+ demographic suffer such a severe lack of true relationships outside of family?

To answer that, I think we must look at the source of the miracle itself: Jesus.

When I look at those 12 close friendships Jesus enjoyed, I see what true friendship takes. I also discover clues as to why I think we are lacking in this area—particularly here in America.

Jesus initiated the friendship. Jesus was the ultimate extrovert. I mean, other than in kindergarten, when was the last time you walked up to a person who looked somewhat interesting and asked, “Hey, wanna play?” Of course, Jesus was calling men to follow Him, but it’s basically the same thing. Jesus and those twelve men were practically strangers, but Jesus saw something in each one that He wanted to cultivate, to get to know. Jesus initiated the friendship, which is the very hardest part, in my opinion.What if they don’t want any more friends? What if they think I’m weird? What if I’m annoying? I think fear of rejection is what hold many of us back from reaching out to people we are truly interested in getting to know better.

Jesus let His friends interrupt His life and plans. Friendship is costly. It takes time, energy, emotion, brain-space. Jesus let his friends interrupt Him, and not allow it to strain the relationship. My favorite instance of this is found in all of the Gospels (The books of Matthew, Mark, Luke, & John), but my favorite account is found in Mark. See, Jesus and His friends were on a boat at night when a huge storm came up. The Bible calls it a “furious squall.” Jesus, being Jesus, was asleep on a cushion in the stern. His friends started freaking out (as I’m certain I would’ve done) and wake Him up. Here’s the best part. They don’t just wake Jesus and ask for help. They wake Him and say, “Don’t you care if we drown?” (Mark 4:38b, NIV). Ha! Yeah. First of all, they interrupt His sleep. Jesus doesn’t get mad, He’s not cranky that they woke Him from a nap. That’s real friendship right there. Secondly, He helped them. They insulted Him, and He still helped them without snark. He calmed the storm, and then He did something else.

Jesus called His friends out when it counted. After He calmed the storm, He called them out for their lack of faith. I mean, God of the Universe was there in the boat with them. That should’ve been enough. True friends call each other out on their bologna. My dad always says, “A true friend is someone who makes you better.” If you and your friends agree 100% of the time, something’s wrong. Real friends don’t let each other get away with things that will hurt them spiritually, emotionally, or physically. Jesus called His friends out on their bull, and that is no easy task. It’s so much more comfortable to put some sort of twist on the behavior/thoughts/words that make them seem ok, or at the least excusable. Jesus loved His friends too much to do that. I think this is another reason true, intimate friendship is disappearing from the American adult experience—it’s easier to just keep to ourselves and not call a spade a spade when need be.

Jesus put the needs of His friends above His own. I’m sure we can all agree, just about everything we do, we do with one goal in mind—to stay alive. Jesus, on the other hand, knew His death was the one thing His friends needed most. He didn’t want to do it. We see that in the Bible when He, not once but but twice, asks God if there’s anyway to accomplish His Plan without Jesus having to go to the cross (Matthew 26:36-45). Real friendship takes sacrifice. Of course, I’d venture to guess the vast majority of us won’t have to actually die for our friends, but real friendship calls us to die to ourselves day after day. To lose sleep while they talk through the loss of their job; to spend a few bucks of a cup of coffee or cook an extra meal when their life is in chaos. Even in times of relative calm, it takes a sacrifice of time, energy, and sometimes even money to maintain a deep, quality, vivacious friendship.

The more I examine the friendships of Jesus, the more I understand why we may struggle with it so much. It’s costly. It’s uncomfortable. It’s unpredictable. Three of my least favorite things.

But, just like anything of value in this life, the rewards far outweigh the costs.

How about you, dear reader? How are your friendships? Do you need to invest more? Is there someone you need to reach out and initiate a conversation with? Is there someone who has been pursuing friendship with you that you’ve been avoiding because you “just can’t?”

Of course, we must proceed with wisdom as we build those friendships that will speak most deeply into our lives. There are toxic people and toxic relationships. I’m not arguing that we should stay in dangerous or unhealthy relationships.

But, I would argue, most of us could afford the cost of a true, lasting friendship. Could you?

Pregnant With Hope

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Pregnancy, by and large, is a phenomenon that happens to a woman.

The moment of conception, gender, hair color, and even moment of birth are completely out of the mother’s control.

The mother who is expecting a child wields very little – if any – control over the pregnancy, yet a tremendous amount of influence over it.

The choices she makes in a myriad of little things yield drastic differences. It seems nearly everything she does makes a difference in the health of her own body as well as that of the child within.

A baby can be born perfectly healthy with the mother living through pregnancy with a “life as usual” attitude; a baby can survive even when the mother makes catastrophic choices. But a baby and mother can thrive and enjoy an even higher quality of life and bonding when she takes steps to nurture herself and her unborn child – even in less than ideal circumstances.

Several years ago I came across the phrase “pregnant with hope” while reading. I don’t remember the context or in what I read it. But I do know the image that conjured in my mind.

I pictured someone so full of hope welling up inside them that they nearly burst with it – with no effort of their own. An incessantly, almost sickeningly, happy person with more naïveté than wisdom or desire for a real view of the world.

We live in a dark world. A dark world full of dark people capable of unthinkable evil. And hope, like a newly conceived baby, is fragile and can be easily trampled by the realities we face everyday in our neighborhoods, cities and on the television.

It’s easy to let the darkness reign and fill in the cracks where faith can’t provide a tidy answer or wrap life up into a pretty little object lesson with a perfectly packaged solution at the end of the puzzle. Hope gets buried among the grief, disgust and confusion of it all.

Yet hope, like that tender growing babe, while fragile and delicate is also strangely resilient; shockingly strong with a penchant for life.

Hope can survive throughout unimaginably difficult circumstances. Hope can grow and thrive and multiply without any outside effort on our part. The Author and Creator of our hope can do amazingly magnificent things through the medium of hope; and, lets face it, He needs no help from us just as a babe needs no concrete help from his mother to develop a heart, hands, fuzzy hair on his head.

Yet if we take time to nurture hope…

To feast on Food that nourishes and strengthens; to drink deep the Water of Life; to dream and plan and dream some more about what this hope might become. To take intentional steps to protect hope at all costs from the pollutants of this world… Oh how much deeper and stronger would that hope be that lays dormant within us so many days? How much more bonded would we become to the idea that hope can endure?

Finally, brothers, whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is just, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is commendable, if there is any excellence, if there is anything worthy of praise, think about these things. – Philippians 4:8

So if we think happy thoughts all will be well? No, not even close. Yet if we fight against the darkness, beginning with our own thoughts – the ones so dark and misty it scares us to even acknowledge them – and consciously transform them to things of light, things of life, things of hope… Imagine the rebirth of spiritual brightness that would return to your heart. And then I do it and he does it and she does it… Oh I can see the hope blooming even now.

It seems to me, the more hope in this world that is set in things that are noble, honorable and lovely; nurtured in excellent, commendable things, the better off this world would be. Agreed?

You see, a hope nurtured does not remain merely hope. Hope spurs one on to action, to enforce change, to be the impetus of tangible deeds that plant a seed of hope in another. A hope nurtured grows and matures and transforms from unseen to seen. A hope nurtured and birthed into tangibility, by nature, breeds hope in those with whom it interacts. Hope begets hope; kindness begets kindness; honor begets honor. The hope you nurture within your own soul can become life-changing hope to someone else. Someone that might not have anyone else who can implant that first seedling other than you – and you might be completely unaware of it happening at all yet it is dependent upon the hope birthed from you.

So whether hope is but a tiny seed in your own heart or a burgeoning bloom nigh to tangible for those around you, can I encourage you to take time to nurture it? To protect it? To feed and encourage it to grow?

Tell me, what is something true, noble, honorable, just, pure, lovely, commendable or excellent to which you can turn your thoughts when the darkness threatens to crush your hope? Share it in the comments and let’s nurture a bit more hope in the world together. Who knows, what you say may be the very thing someone else needs to hear to pull them from the pit.

 

What Little League Taught Me About Faith

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A soft breeze, warm with the heat of an Arizona October, brushes my face. The scent of stale popcorn, bubble gum, and dust hangs in the air. I squint against the bright sunlight and scan the field.

Ah! There he is.

My 6-year-old-the-size-of-a-9-year-old has assumed the ready position way out in left field. Again.

Never mind the pitcher hasn’t even made it to the mound yet, and that this is his third time in left field this game. He’s ready.

At last, the pitcher saunters to the mound, a wad of gum bulging his cheek.

“Alright, c’mon, kiddo. Just like we practiced!” A man’s voice rings louder than the din.

The kid, with scruffy hair hanging out the sides of his cap and his shirttail untucked nods decidedly as his dad. He stands tall and raises his gloved had in front of his chest. He squints at the catcher. Shakes off an imaginary call, checks the bases for stealing runners—never mind the fact that this is the first batter—and his shoulders rise and fall with a large sigh. He winds up and fires the ball. It sails far over the catcher’s head, clanks into the backstop, and a mad scramble ensues. Pitcher, catcher, and third baseman scramble for the ball. Dust and limbs flying everywhere.

“What was that, son? Don’t try to be Randy Johnson out there. Just. Play. Catch!”

The ball finally recovered, all the players return to their posts and in unison my son’s team assumes the ready position.

I smiled at the scene now so familiar. Every game was the same. Sure, the players rotated positions and a different pitcher took the mound every few innings, but the basic play was the same.

And it reminded me, oddly enough, of me.

It’s funny the things you ponder sitting in dusty camp chairs every Saturday for weeks on end, watching little boys and girls strive to be like their big league heroes.

And one thing I’ve realized over the weeks is that Little League baseball is a lot like my spiritual walk. And I’d venture to guess, it’s a lot like yours, too.

So, I wanted to share with you a few things Little League taught me about faith.

1. The game rarely ever goes like practice. So many times, I sat at practice and watched my son nail hit after hit. Or make stellar throws and speed around the bases, a wide grin splitting his face. But on game day. Oh, things were always different on game day. It was serious. He was nervous. He struck out far more often than he did in practice. And those throws? They never seemed to hit their mark. Sound familiar? Sitting in my cozy spot on the couch, dog in my lap, Bible in hand, my “practice” time is a joy. God’s word sings in my soul, profound insights burst in my mind and renewed purpose steels deep in my soul. Then comes Game Day. My kids wake up, the dog pukes on the rug, and my perfectly engaging lesson falls flat for my middle schools students. Suddenly those insights are a lead chain around my neck. The joy from my morning practice shoved aside by annoyance and frustration. Then comes The Big Game. You know, Game 7 of the World Series big. The notice of layoffs comes. Or the doctor calls. Or another bill arrives. Yes, it’s true. The game rarely ever goes like practice.

2. Ready Position is a big deal. It never failed to amuse me. One kid building sand castles at short stop. Another crawling around, tracing the path of a beetle. Yet another is picking his nose, confident he’s far enough in the outfield no one will notice. Suddenly, a voice splits the air. Coach. “Ready position, boys!” Obediently, they snap to Ready Position: forearms rested on thighs, knees bent ready to spring into action, eyes on the pitcher. After every play, they return to ready position. From this position, they can spring into action in any direction at any given moment. It’s designed for maximum speed and efficiency so they can pounce on the ball or lunge to make a catch. We have a ready position, too. Sometimes we need reminding. That’s why we tape Bible verses on mirrors and save them as lock screens on our devices. We listen to worship music in the car and start our day with prayer and Bible study. We need our hearts and minds in ready position. Postured with ears open, eyes wide, hearts softened, ready to spring into action at the slightest nudge of the Spirit. And if we get shaken, or after the action, we return. Ready for action. Ready to listen. Ready to jump when the ball comes our way.

3. Listen to the coach. Little boys like to run. Better yet, they like to run in dirt. I lost count of how many times a little leaguer sprinted around the bases, slid into home, only to be met by serious eyes. “I told you to hold off at second base. That is the fourth run, and now we have to change sides. If you had stopped when I asked, more people would have had the chance to bat.” Oh. Sometimes, we’re running full steam ahead, goal in sight. The light at the end of the tunnel has been turned on. We can see our destination. We’re so close we can taste it. And then we hear that Still Small Voice imploring us. Slow down. Stop. Not yet. The tug-o-war of the heart ensues. But, it’s right there. I’m so close. “Stop.” We need to listen to our Coach. We were given the Holy Spirit as a gift. A guide. A coach. He knows what is best for us, and the best way for us to get there. He doesn’t tell us what to do just for the joy of hearing the sound of His own voice. No. There’s a game plan. A strategy. If we barrel ahead, we may interfere with what He has for us. Or for someone else. We may risk the entire game thinking we know better. We need to listen to the Coach.

4. Have fun! Many’s the time we had to remind our little baller that it was just a game. And while, yes, there are winners and losers…well, not in this age of Little League, but still. Work hard? Yes. Try your best? Absolutely. Take it seriously? For sure! But taking it seriously doesn’t mean we can’t enjoy it! Sometimes we make following Christ look about as enjoyable as latrene duty or grave digging. Yes, it’s serious business. Eternity is on the line. But Christ himself said He came to give us life—abundant life! It’s ok to enjoy this life. This world. Our families. Our jobs. Our churches. There is great joy and freedom found in Christ and we would be well served to allow ourselves to fully embrace and experience that joy.

5. Cheer on your teammates. Our son’s coaches did a great job trying to instill the character of sportsmanship into the members of the team. They celebrated one another well. It can be all too easy to view others as competition. Especially when they are playing the position we wanted to play, better than we know we could play it. We need to support one another. Cheer one another one. Dust each other off when we fall, and celebrate the successes of those on our team. By the way, our team is humanity.

So, what do you think? Do you see yourself in these Little Leaguers? Which one do you sense the tug to work on? What other lessons have you found in the ordinary things of life?

From One Working Mom to Another

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Although I’ve been a working mom for nearly all of my children’s lives, the majority of that employment was quite non-traditional. As I’ve ventured into the world of working outside the home again, I’ve struggled with lots of feelings from guilt to frustration to enjoyment.

I notice other working moms more readily, and I see in their eyes the same struggles I work to hind behind my own. Today, at The Better Mom, I’m sharing a letter from one working mom to another. I hope you’ll join me, and I pray it encourages you.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

If you’ve just clicked over here from The Better Mom, welcome! Grab a cuppa and take a look around! I hope you’ll find community, friendship, and encouragement here in our little corner of the Web.

The Blessing of A Bloom

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This post first appeared on my old blog a few years ago. It’s message resonated with me today, so I wanted to share it with you again.

We planted it back at the beginning of summer. Along with the strawberries that never quite made it, and the sweet pea that bloomed in beauty.

It was the first of the three plants to sprout, and the excitement was palpable. Day after day we’d rush to the pot to see what progress had been made overnight. Then, it just…stopped. Long, green shoots waved in the breeze with nary a bud in sight. Eventually we surmised it was a dud. Or we did something wrong. It just wasn’t going to bloom, and that was that.

I really need to just throw that thing away, I’d tell myself each time I’d walk in or out of the front door. It’s just taking up space. But I just couldn’t bring myself to do it.

Then…one day the tips began to change; to look a little like wheat. Ooh, this is it! We all thought. It’s going to bloom after all! And yet, there it sat in it’s wheat-like state for week after week. Such a disappointment. It had so much potential. It served to taunt me of all my own failures; a daily reminder of all the things that had promised to bloom, only to come up short in my own life.

Or in her life over there…she’s been working at that for years with nothing to show for it. Hrmph. She doesn’t know when enough is enough does she?


The morning dawned bright and clear with a brisk chill in the wind. We headed out like any other day for school, groceries, coffees and friends. And we stopped in our tracks. There on that useless, dud of a failed plant was the most striking purple and yellow bloom – and there were four more buds surrounding it!

I stood and stared at that delicate bloom, tears stinging my eyes. As the squeals of my children’s delight wafted on the air around me, a Still Small Voice whispered in my heart of hearts –

This is a promise. For you.

My mind immediately flooded with the myriad of tasks He had called me to before. Some days, some years before. Dreams and visions, some of which had nigh faded into the oblivion of just another thing I must have heard wrong.

Yet, just as we never know what is going on just under the surface of a tree or flower, so can one never be sure what is churning, germinating, growing, pushing through just beneath the surface of a heart; of a soul. He has not forgotten those things to which He has called me. Or you. He has not sat back and hoped for the best. No. Just beneath the surface of it all, yes, even way down deep, He has been cultivating and pruning and working.

And He has promised to work all things together for the good of those who love Him. To weave the beauty and passion, heartache and hardship, into a tapestry the likes of which are not to be found anywhere other than here. In this heart. It won’t make life perfect, pain free, flawless or easy. But it will ensure that not one thing will be for naught. Not one tear will be wasted. Not one prayer will float beyond His hearing.

This weaving, this working, this mysterious melding of mundane with glorious takes the toil, pain, joy and sorrow and works it to the very best for the one who places it all in the hands of the Weaver. And to be in His hand, His gentle yet infinitely strong hand…oh how that is the very best place to be.

So now, as I pass that pot time and time again in the comings and goings of this life of mine I am reminded of that promise. And I cling to the hope of things unseen. This heart flutters with anticipation of what is to come. Eager to see how the beauty blooming just beneath the surface will push through the filth and dirt and manure to burst forth in glorious color. For I know it is coming.

 

What Teaching Middle School Writing is Teaching Me About Life

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I’m standing at the front of the room, laughing like an idiot, in a room full of 12 to 14 year olds roaring in equal parts hilarity and awkwardness.

We just finished doing the Chicken Dance. That’s right, the Chicken Dance. I somehow managed to convince a room full of tweens to set aside their pride and flap their arms and shimmy their tushies for a full three minutes. Laughter floats heavy in the air, and the room smells of equal parts over-sprayed cologne and weird middle school body odor.

I love this.

I’m teaching middle schoolers to write. And it’s just as difficult and awkward and hair-pulling-out-frustrating as you might imagine.

It’s also amazingly and wonderfully magical. Seeing them stretch a little more. Try something new. Risk just a smidge more than yesterday—and allowing me a front row seat to the whole show.

The past two months as a middle school writing teacher has taught me many things. Like never show up without coffee, for one. And never underestimate the power of a spat between friends, for another.

But more than that, I’m learning some valuable life lessons that I thought might resonate with you, too.

  1. Sometimes you just need permission to try—and fail. I told my students on the first day of school that my biggest and most ardent expectation for them in my classroom is that they try, try, try. And then try some more. “I’m not after perfection,” I told them. “I’m after the attempt.” I let them know that every first try, when it comes to writing, stinks, and that’s ok. That’s perfect, in fact. And that permission to try something, and to rejoice if it fails, was just what the doctor ordered to foster the courage to take a leap in an area that was uncomfortable for most of them.
  2. Sometimes you need someone to walk with you. I walk them through my writing process, and leave nothing out. I start with the, “Aw man, I    don’t want to write about this!” all the way through to “This is my best idea yet!” I let them join me on the journey from discovery to brainstorming to drafting to publishing. I show them that all the weird things that pop into their minds aren’t so weird after all. And that little act of bringing them along on my own journey gives them the bravery to start their own journeys in my room each day.
  3. Sometimes you just need someone to recognize the talent in you. It’s by far my most favorite moment in the classroom. That sacred minute in which I get a glimpse of greatness. It’s crazy that I’m honored enough to be there when a student unearths a nugget of brilliance all on their own and I get to call them on it. I call out talent. Raw skill. Unique perspectives. Deep insights. I share with them exactly what I see in them that is good. Or great. Phenomenal. And world-changing. It may just be a sentence on paper, but to me it’s a spring board to a better world. And when I point it out to them, they blush and smile. Some shrug and wave their hand as if to say, “Aw, shucks. Not really.” But they walk a little taller. They reach out to their neighbor and pass on the torch of encouragement. They’re quicker to notice the brilliance in each other, and forgive the “sin” of mediocrity in themselves. And isn’t that the same with you and me? Sometimes someone comes along just at the right time when we needed it most of all and points out the beauty we mistake for midline. And it bolsters us for whatever comes next.
  4. Sometimes you just need someone to take your hand, and pull you smack dab into the center of silliness. I don’t know what the classrooms to the left and right of mine were thinking as we howled and clapped our way through the Chicken Dance. But I know what I saw. Smiling faces. Helping hands. Defenses coming down. And in the end, in some weird way, we were just that much closer. We dialed in to the work much quicker and more easily. That three minute foray into the goofy released the pent up tension we didn’t even realize had built, and allowed us to delve more deeply and quickly into the real, more meaningful work.
  5. Sometimes you just need to be the person who does numbers 1 through 4 for someone else. 

So what about you? Do you need permission to try and fail; someone who will walk with you; someone to recognize the good in you and your life; or a tug into the silly? And who in your life can you reach out to and do the same for? Encouragement goes both ways, and often times I find I’m more encouraged, uplifted, and lighter in the soul when I’m focused on lifting up someone else than when I’ve been the one to be lifted.