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Posts from the ‘Writing’ Category

good enough

 

Last year.

Last year, we settled into our first home, bought after many, many years of trying to fix the past. Out of the woods and into the sunshine.

Last year, I said goodbye to a regular paycheck, venturing out on my own. Learning trust again. Finding unexpected blessings.

Last year, we finally gave a kid his Christmas wish of eight years: a dog. He earned the money and we said yes.

Last year, we renewed and strengthened some friendships and said yes as often as possible to being with them. Our home. Your home. Church.

This year…

I’m excited to start a new year and am setting out to reach some long time goals. Thankful for the people beside me who are doing the same.

Dropping some weights along the way, and some of this post shared here is exactly what I needed to start this January 1.

Perfectionism is a torment. And I don’t know if you’re battling it too, but it wreaks havoc in my personal and creative life.

Never good enough. For all sorts of messy reasons.

Perfectionism is a thief of joy. Joy, my one word for 2016. I love one word. Invite was my word for 2015 and it did wonders. Opened doors.

Time to step through them.

Going to put more of me out there this year. Going to take walks. Going to publish things I’ve written – online or otherwise. Going to believe in good enough.

Starting here.

“Sometimes you have to accept that you’ll never be acceptable enough for some people. And whether you accept that as their issue or yours — is up to you.” -Ann Voskamp

beginning again and again

"In dishwashing, I approach the moral realm; there are days when it seems a miracle to be able to make dirty things clean." -- Kathleen Norris

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don’t give up your day job

All the work I am called to do lends itself to the art of writing if I listen and let it.

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a book for all seasons and an invitation to share

I really want to squeeze in a little chat about books. And I'm hoping you'll join me!

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6 shortcuts you learn when you’re always in a hurry

because you can only stay up way past your bedtime so many nights in a row before it all catches up with you.

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shoes for the season

It's kind of amazing what the right footwear can do. They actually made me want it to rain . . .

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a season of uncertainty and certainty

I wrote so many thoughts over the weekend and not one of them is ready for print. Not even on the internet.

I did, however, have a breakthrough last night when I realized the post I had written was the very thing I needed for something else but was definitely not the right thing to post here.

Sometimes, I wish I had written things for people to read when I was so sure, so certain of equations and sums.

If I am this sort of wife then, if I am this sort of mom then, if I am this sort of worker then . . .

But I’m very glad I didn’t. Because now, as much as I may like to think a thing should be this way, or this effort should produce this result, I know outcomes are not always up to me.

Perhaps that is the real crisis of mid-life.

Suddenly, the things you thought were real and true and guaranteed do not turn out as you expected.

The marriage you thought was unbreakable is broken. The effort you put in seems wasted. Children grow up and make their own choices in spite of (and sometimes to spite) you.

I am more reluctant now to open my mouth with certainty. Because what will come of it all is not yet known.

Because the important of yesterday fades as the walk becomes more by faith less by sight. Where I once thought I had a measure of control, I have discovered I have none at all. And the great mystery to me is that the less I am sure of myself, the more I am sure of God.

Because if you ask me if I believe people can change, I will say yes without a shade of doubt.

Ask me if there is hope in the worst of circumstances, and I will say always and never give up.

Ask me if the broken can be restored, and I will say nothing is so broken it cannot be mended.

Ask me how to parent a child, and I will say pray always without ceasing.

Ask me how to keep a marriage together, and I will say forgive.

Most things I write need to sit a while . . . and then filter through life and be worked out . . .

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smallbutton64seasonstree

a solitary space

So here I sit, in the hotel bathroom. In silence at last. Hearing my thoughts. Reflecting . . . . I want to live my season of noise and be fully awake to it.

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a season of fragments

Creating meaning from scattered moments, half hours, and hours takes strength and purpose and vision. It's too, too easy to just languish in the not enough time to do.

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