Confession

It's nice to think I can show up here once a month and post and not feel like I'm ignoring this blog. Now for the real reason you're here:

My whole life (to a point) I worked toward one goal--I wanted to be invisible. I mean it. The less attention people paid to me, the happier I was. In fact, when I initially toyed with the idea of being a writer I thought it would be ideal. I could hole up in a quiet room, or in a cabin somewhere, and write and publish and nobody ever needed to see me.

Things changed a little when I got married and had a family. I mean, no mother is invisible to her children unless it's time to do chores. And I have to confess even without the publishing thing I'm a celebrity in my own home. Even the dog and cat seek out my attention (whether I want them to or not). But, still, I'd rather be out of the public eye.

You will fill stadiums... ~That's a tidbit from one of the blessings I'd received when rededicating my life to writing books with God in mind. To my credit, I didn't hyperventilate. I figured if that's what God had in store, I would deal with it when it came.

But I have to admit I sort of focused on it. Obsessed about it a little. The idea of being the focal point of thousands of people made me crazy. It's not that I can't do it. I've conquered my fear of public speaking. It's just that I don't want to do it. I'd much rather work behind the scenes. Way, way behind the scenes. (To that end I once considered letting my husband be the "author" while I wrote the books in secret. The only thing that stopped me there was that it didn't feel truly honest.)

Then, during one of my other blessings, the same phrase repeated itself. You will fill stadiums. But with a side note of: but don't worry about that right now. And it's true. I was letting that little statement turn the focus from what I needed to be doing--writing.

My writing and publishing goal for this year is pretty aggressive. It doesn't leave me any time to do book signings or author visits or anything like that. The problem is I may enjoy that a little too much. In 2014, I will still publish but I will need to make time to do the signings and author visits and all that jazz.

Because it doesn't matter how much I write if no one knows it's there to read. How can I fulfill my role in God's plan if no one is reading what I write? Because He's made it clear that I'm supposed to affect others' lives through my writing. It's not just for me and my family to benefit from.

It occurred to me about 6 months ago that my filling stadiums and writing may not be connected. I mean, who goes to a "stadium" to hear a writer? My obedience and willingness may lead to rising to a position of prominence in the leadership of my church. Scary. Sure, I've got a lot of growing to do to get to that point.

This long winded post is all intended to demonstrate on thing: My crippling fear of success. Failure is easy. Failure means I stay right where I am. But success? Success takes me places. Scary places. Places where people know my name, recognize me around town, come to see me when I have a public appearance. And other various things that I don't prefer.

So why haven't I gotten over my fear of success yet? I believe that, with God, all things are possible. If that's what He has in store for me then I will do it (and hope to enjoy it when the time comes). But I keep finding myself sputtering at the gate. I worry that I won't finish another book, even though I've published three. I worry that I won't be able to hold the reader's interest. I worry....fill in the blank. And it slows me down.

Then I get my gumption on and realize I hate to be afraid of anything and dive in and do it.

But right now I'm feeling more sputter-y than gumption-y.

Ideas? Suggestions? Help?

Overcoming Oneself

This is another one of those posts where I don't know if I should put it on my author blog or here, because it has to deal with both. But, since I'm going to focus less on writing and more on me, I chose this blog.

We all do it. I do it. You do it. So it should come as no surprise that I've done it.

Again.

What am I talking about? Well, I've been stupid. This is a bit more serious than doing something stupid. It's a moment when you really just shut your brain down and become actual stupid. Briefly.

Years ago when I first accepted God's call to write my stories for His glory, He gave me a precious gift. He said that all I ever needed to do was ask, and He would personally become my barrier between myself and the influences of Satan. He would keep the tempter at bay and allow me to do the work He has ordained me to do.

When you think about it, that is an awesome gift. As in something that can NEVER be paralleled or matched. And I used it. There were times when, creating my first novel, I had to pray before I sent an email or it wouldn't reach it's destination. Satan was working hard against me, and he hasn't given up.

If you've been keeping up with my blogs, you know in early December I chose to heed the Spirit's call to quit my job and write. I received confirmation from my Heavenly Father that I have TWO callings in this life. The first, and most important, is that of mother. Nothing will compensate for short-changing my children. The second was that of writer. This is not a hobby. This is not a job. This is a CALLING FROM GOD. An important distinction, I think.

So, for a while I did pretty well. I took a week off after leaving my job and then wrote a 7500 word Christmas story. And I thought I had found the groove. I started working on The Lost Princess. Then the holiday came. And then we got word that my mother in law had passed away.

And then everything fell apart.

I'm not kidding. The weekend of her death our computer--where I do all my writing--and the refrigerator DIED. Kaput. Within the next week, our heater stopped working as it should. The dryer developed this insanely loud clunking sound every time it runs. The washer refused to operate on any cycle other than normal with cold water. No more large loads. No more small loads. My father in law knew a guy who came out to fix the fridge, which turned out to need only a $22 part. That time. And I managed to get internet on my hubby's laptop, which is what I'm now using. I don't have all my stories, and some of the ones I have aren't current--like the one I was working on when the PC died. That I've had a hard time getting back to.

But it didn't end there. My son broke his arm playing keepaway after mutual one Wed night. His twin brother got the flu. My youngest started getting these incessant and unceasing headaches. Bryan is having a difficult time coping with everything and it's left him troubled and moody. Yesterday, the same son with the broken arm came home and showed me his finger (on the opposite side of the arm he broke) was all swollen and hurting. He'd injured it trying to play one handed basketball with his friends because he didn't want to let them down. While taking him to the ER I had to make a short stop at the school so my daughter could get her play scripts and a guy in a truck backed into me. My 11 yr old daughter lost a classmate in a house fire. And the fridge died again Monday morning. For good this time.

WE are under attack. I'm not kidding. While I can see the hand of God in everything we are going through--the broken bone could have required surgery, but didn't. The flu was extremely mild and he got over it quickly. The finger wasn't broken. The damage to the car was minor. A friend had a spare fridge which we picked up yesterday--it's pretty clear we are being assaulted at every turn. I still haven't been able to fix my PC. The dryer, washer, and heater are all still acting up, but they are working and so aren't getting attention right now. Because of all of this, I have been unable to write anything. Which is what I quit my job to do. And I'm paralyzed. I sit down to write but nothing comes, until I go to bed or am somewhere I can't write. The creativity is there, it's alive in me, but the outlet isn't working.

So I have been thinking quite hard about that gift God gave me, that precious barrier. But I hadn't done anything about it. Why? Well, therein lies the stupid part. I have a horrible weakness that is a form of pride where I don't take my problems to God because I don't want to bother Him.

As if I can burden Him. As if anything I can bring Him would be too much. See, stupid. So I've been trying to take on Satan myself, announcing my plan to fight him and not back down from what I know is my calling in this life.

And, obviously, I've been failing. Duh. Why in the world would I try to take on the father of all lies by myself, when all I have to do is call on God's protection and He takes care of him for me? Again, stupid. What's worse is the detriment to my family.

So last night, while I was minding my own business (which here was being exhausted from yet another round of hospital visits and X-rays, stress, and aggravation) I checked my email. And received this from a friend and fellow writer for God:


Okay, so, you're going to think I'm crazy, but in case you don't, I'm going to say it anyway.

I strongly recommend that you get a blessing of protection.

All the stuff you're going through sounds a whole lot like my last year, and I can't share everything that happened, but I'll just say that I got a blessing of protection, and most of it stopped.

So ... take that for what it's worth.  :)

I knew she was right. And I knew the time had come to stop putting off asking for God's protection. So when my husband called I told him I needed that blessing, and he reminded me there was something I can do myself until I got it.

So I did. I got down on my knees and apologized to my Heavenly Father for my pride and weakness. I begged Him for the barrier He promised me. I renewed my promise to write good things.

And then I wiped my tears and sat in the silence of my house (at 1:30 am even though the kitten tried everything to get my attention during my supplication) and realized something vital--

I could breathe again. The air was somehow cleaner. I felt peace. And it was precious. You sometimes don't notice how deeply the influence of evil has permeated your life until you ask God to force it out.

I can still feel it, the peace. I noticed a distinct change as I listened to the kids getting off to school this morning. (yeah, after not going to sleep until well after 2am I could not get up at 6 to help with that) Bryan was calmer. The kids were kinder. It was a miracle, right here in my home.

So I thank God again for helping me. The gratitude will remain in my heart, but I wanted to say it publicly. He loves me. He loves all of us, but that doesn't diminish the fact that He loves each of us individually. He knows us. He knows what we need. He is never as far away from us as we are of Him. Think about it.

Count 'Em Up

As I shared in a PREVIOUS post, I recently gave up my job and heeded the spirit's call to return to writing. Within 3 weeks of my last day of work, the following things happened:

My mother in law passed away December 29th. She'd been sick for a long time, but it was still something of a gut punch to lose her that morning.

That same weekend, the refrigerator stopped refrigerating.

A couple of days later, the computer crashed. No kidding. Dead. As. A. Doornail. All recovery methods have so far failed. My brother is sending me some things to hopefully help. I may have to send him the computer (which hasn't worked so well in the past). That was after I wrote an entire short story and added about 10 pages to my WIP. I was actually *doing it* people, and the computer just died.

The clothes dryer started making a horrible squeaking sound whenever it's operating.

The washing machine now only works on *one* setting, and it's only 2 yrs old. (my conviction there is that it's the low water pressure in this house/town. It's one of those awesome front loaders, but you can't use the large load settings, the hot or warm water settings, or even the small load setting anymore)

I learned how it feels to attend a funeral and a wedding on the same day.

My son broke his arm on his brother.

My daughter nearly broke her arm at school when a heavy metal lid fell on it, sandwiching the arm between the metal box and the lid.

(Yes, I have, in fact, wondered why my son broke his arm hyperextending it while trying to stop his brother from getting the ball in keepaway, and my daughter *didn't* break her arm after such trauma.)

One of my other sons got the flu.

There, I think you're all caught up on the last 2 and a half weeks. Why am I telling you all this? Am I trying to make you feel sorry for me?

Of course not.

I'm a firm believer in the idea that life happens when you're busy making other plans. And in Plan B (C, D, E, F, G....). I also KNOW without a doubt that the more things that pile up in my path--the more convincing it becomes that I'm on the right path in the first place.

Here's what I'm supposed to do: Get discouraged. Let these things bring me down. Want to quit, throw in the towel, respond to at least one of the two job offers I've had in the last month. Stop writing.

Ya, that would make someone down there really happy. The jerk.

Now, here's what I'm GOING to do: Keep writing. Even if it's slow progress, it's still progress. Read my scriptures. Love my kids. Spend time with my family. Trust in God, and in His plan for me.

It's not easy. And I'm definitely accepting support if you're offering.

Tender Mercies

Not entirely sure why I post these things here. Maybe it's to help someone who may be struggling too. Or maybe it's just because this is as close to a journal as I'm ever going to get.

I want to share something personal that happened to me Sunday. Lately I've missed a lot of Sundays at church due to incredible headaches or work, and I kind of think God was just waiting for me to show up so we could have words. See, I've really, truly been struggling with the status of my job in my life. I hate that it takes up so much of my time, and that I feel so responsible and that it pulls me away from what I know in my heart to be what I'm supposed to do on this earth.

5 years ago, I accepted God's entreaty to write for Him. Last summer, I became so concerned about temporal needs that I got a job. At the time it felt very much the right thing to do. I even got a blessing. And, to be blunt, I still don't know why getting this job was the right thing then and isn't now. Perhaps it's just because of how it's taken over my life. One promotion. Then another. And suddenly it's all I think about.

Back to Sunday. I was in the middle of Sacrament meeting, filled with inner turmoil, when very suddenly I heard in my head these words, "Quit your job and write."

Immediately I balked. "No! We can't afford to live if I quit now. Bryan's income won't support the family by itself! I can't. I want to, but I can't."

Again. "Quit your job and write."

Those of you who have had the holy spirit overwhelm you understand that it creates a physical response. My whole face opened up. My eyes were leaking. My nose was leaking. (I don't cry like one of those dainty movie people) I was shaking all over. You simply can't DENY the spirit when it hits you so strong.

Obviously, since I'd just become a sprinkler in the middle of Sacrament, my family noticed. The girls asked what's wrong. Bryan asked what's wrong. He passed me a note because I couldn't speak. I wrote it out to him. And I added that I needed a blessing and a quiet place to pray. So we got up and went to a room and I cried all over his clean white shirt and expressed all my doubts and fears and yet knowing it's what I have to do.

Quit my job and write.

After I'd settled down a bit and run out of tissues, he gave me a priesthood blessing. It was simply a confirmation of what I already knew but had temporarily lost sight of. My first calling is that of Mother. My second is that of Writer. Then the other things come into play. I need to pray more. Go to the temple. He has things for me to do, and, with faith, He will take care of our needs.

I know this. And I have let my job interfere with mothering my children. It's certainly derailed my writing. So, deep breath and plunge. Sometimes I feel the net is there to catch me, but it also has deep holes just big enough for me to fall through. I'm not perfect. My faith is not perfect. But I'm trying.

God's timing is exceptional. That night at work I got a call from one of my son's friends about something my son had done. If I had faced that, and the ensuing fallout, without that blessing and renewal of purpose, I would have been at a loss as to how I would work my job, help my son, and still make everything work out.

I keep forgetting this is God's concert. We're just the instruments in His orchestra. It's NOT up to me to make everything work out. It's up to ME to let HIM in enough to provide the answers we need.

But I'm Too Busy

This is about as partisan as you will ever see me. I'm going to *gasp* share some of my political opinions.

One--we live in a REPUBLIC, not a DEMOCRACY. If you have trouble with this, look the meanings up. Or recall reciting the National Anthem, which we used to do in school. Remember that part where it says "And to the Republic, for which it stands"

Yeah. It helps if we first educate ourselves on what we actually practice.

Someone I greatly revere once said that the United States was not in danger of losing its liberties because of an invading army. But rather by the slower effects of apathy in the average American. To me this means when we vote for someone--not because we know anything about them--but rather because we like their name, their party affiliation, it "feels" right, etc. Or we just don't like the other guy.

I want to point out the old saying that actions speak louder than words. I am much less inclined to listen to what a candidate has to say than to look at their record and see what they've actually done (or not done).

Now, I'm saying this to you as much as to me. I have been guilty in the past of not properly educating myself before voting. Sometimes I've even not voted because I don't know anything about the candidates and don't want to make an uninformed decision. But I'm changing. And, because I know I'm not the only person out there to have done these things, I'm making a public plea.

We need to know the people running for office. I don't care if it's the treasurer of the city council or the POTUS. Take a little time and do a bit of research so you can make an informed decision come election day. And, for the record, if you're making an informed decision on who you vote for, I DON'T CARE which candidate gets your vote. That's your personal choice, and one of the things I love most about this country.

A couple hundred years ago, when voting was till pretty new, people in this country took this sacred responsibility very seriously. Nowadays, not so much. I've heard many who don't believe their vote will count. I guarantee you that if enough people who don't believe their vote counts actually voted, it would make a difference. And, I also believe that each voter who doesn't vote hurts the process. Yes, that's even when that nonvoter was me.

If you don't like the way things are being done, educate yourself and do what is in YOUR power to change it. On the city level, on the state level, on the national level. And don't tell me you don't have time, or you are too busy to take the time to research each candidate. We are all busy, but each of us can make time for the things which are truly important.

Apathy is our true political enemy.

A Precious Gift

Last night God gave me a gift most precious. I can't describe to you its worth, so I will tell you what happened.

I met my daughter.

Ten years ago July 17, I miscarried. Though we named her and treated her as part of our family, a part of me was unsure. Did I carry a spirit within me, or had my body just grown an empty vessel that had never belonged to anyone? (Even though I don't believe God does it that way, I still wondered)

But now I know.

Her image is already fading from my subconscious, but I'll describe her for you as best I can. She had long hair that was the lightest brown, almost blond. Her eyes were those of someone much older, much wiser, and I want to say they were blue.

Her favorite song was Tiffany's "Could've Been" and that's a bit more poignant than I want to dwell on right now.

In the dream, she was a child of about 8 or 9. In the dream, we had a special magic that we used once a year around Christmas to make an extra-special holiday for our family. It was the kind of magic that, if you told anyone about it, you would lose it. The woman we met through that magic knew my daughter. She spoke of her--her favorite places, her favorite things--and sparked a search. I wanted to find my daughter, to see her, to hold her--but I just kept missing her. I'd talk to people who had seen her.

But then, suddenly, she was right in front of me.

She crawled into my lap and let me hold her. And I was crying, just like I am right now. I knew in my heart this moment could not last. God had granted me a brief time with her. She knew it, too. That's when she asked me to sing for her. And I did, in my broken, emotion-choked voice.


I understand now, that while our time on earth was so brief, she's up there in Heaven waiting for me. She is a part of my family. She is a part of my eternal life.

And I can't wait to hold her again.

It's Pretty Here

It's been so long since I posted here I forgot how nice the blog looks. And, really, this post could go anywhere I blog--my personal blog (here), my author blog, or my Friday spot at MMW--but I'm posting it here because it's more a testament of what's going on in my life than what's happening in the writing world--even though writing is part of my world.

It all started June 22--you know, the day BRAVE came out in theaters. Bryan and I decided it would be fun to drive our girls up to the closest theater (30 miles away) and surprise them by seeing the movie. We made it about 20 miles and the car died. Just. Died. It made a weird whistling noise like it was a futuristic car powering down.

I had just barely started a new job, so I reasoned this challenge was a blessing in reality because if I DIDN'T have a job we'd have no hope of paying for repairs--and due to the nature of Bryan's job we have to have 2 cars. It's not a negotiable issue--though I would gladly do without the gas prices if I could. Blarg.

Besides, so many people stopped to help us it was really a reaffirming experience in the study of the human spirit.

So--now it's July 2. Since the car broke down (and sat at the shop because they were backed up and didn't have time to look at it), we lost our clothes dryer, the toilet broke, the twins' bunkbed broke, and Friday the driver's side passenger window on the Durango decided to stop rolling up.

Sunday I fasted. People ravaged by fires in their areas need rain. Then I drove the kids 30 miles to church with in the truck with a broken window. Here's the thing--it created a vacuum inside the vehicle that caused so much intense pain in my ears I almost couldn't drive. It took me 20 miles of that to figure out that if I rolled down another window it would ease the pressure. Yay me. Boo for the migraine I dealt with the rest of the day. Evidence this morning suggested I may be working on another sinus infection and I haven't figured out what my health benefits are yet.

So right now we have a borrowed car and a huge pile of laundry. Bryan goes back to work tomorrow and I'm not off again until Friday. The kids need clean clothes. My idea of doing small loads and air drying them seems like a ton of work now--but I'll (read we'll) probably do it anyway.

Sunday I looked at all this stuff and thought, "I'm about to release a book and all hell breaks loose. Coincidence? Of course not."

Here's the thing--I deal. It's who I am. Stuff happens, I get bummed or discouraged, and God pulls me out of it and we get stuff done. Oh, and it's not all bad news. We still haven't gotten our tax refund yet, which isn't much but will help. And I just found out I have some money in a retirement account from 2008 that I can access. And both Bryan and I still have jobs. We have family helping us. But sometimes, it's hard not to feel discouraged.

I don't post all this on FB because that's not the side I want to show the world. I don't want to whine, complain, or moan about life's challenges. Without challenge there is no growth.

So I'll just keep growing.