First Grace

50/50. Those were the survival odds the doctor gave me and my mom. After three days of labor, seventy-two hours of agonizing pain, three days of a doctor insisting my mom could have a "natural" birth despite so little progression, the odds weren't good. When a new doctor arrived and rushed us into emergency surgery, he wasn't sure either of us would make it. 

I came into the world a perfectly healthy bundle of eight pounds, covered already in God's grace from my first breath. From even before. I had no damage from our ordeal, not a single health problem.

But I didn't have a name. 

I did, but it didn't work. In the days before ultrasounds, it was all guesswork, but I was supposed to be Jeremy Wayne. The revelation that their only child was wrapped in pink, not blue, left my parents scrambling for a new name. My mom chose Christy Lynn, but my dad had a last minute change of heart. He chose Amanda Michelle.

I don't believe for a second that my name was an accident. My parents didn't know the meaning of it. They didn't have time to research it, like my husband and I did before our boys were born. They just liked it. It wasn't until middle school that I learned the meaning:

Amanda - worthy of love

Michelle - who is like God

Worthy of love. Growing up, I felt anything but worthy of love. I was the skinny, painfully shy, clumsy kid, the one who never quite fit in. Not talented. Not pretty. Not anything special. Just a misfit.

But from the beginning, God saw something else. He saw a little girl with a broken heart and dreams bigger than herself. He knew me.

I wonder sometimes - when did He first think of me? 

He knew me when He spoke the earth into existence, before Adam took his first breath. 

When Jesus went to the cross, when He walked up the hill to Golgotha to be tortured and killed, He knew me - and He knew I would need grace. He gave His life so He could inscribe me on His hands forever.

Before my parents met, before they were born, before their parents were born, He knew me. He knew that from a tangled mess of sinners and praying parents and changed lives would come a little girl who was supposed to be Jeremy Wayne.

He knew me, the little girl who would put her life into His hands. He knew I would mess up over and over, running back to Him for more grace. He knew I would battle fear, taking trembling steps forward, sometimes moving ahead and sometimes cowering in terror. He knew the feelings I would have - that I was worthless, unwanted, unloved. So He gave me a name that would remind me every day that I am loved - Amanda, worthy of love. 

Grace from the first breath. From even before. Grace I can't even begin to wrap my heart around.

It's all grace. Every moment, every breath, every heartbeat is grace. From the first to the last.

Fun Weekend Links

I'm so glad the weekend is here! Lately I feel like I've been spinning in circles. My work schedule is busier than ever, my summer is full of children's ministry events, I've got several writing projects going, plus life and family stuff. I have a couple of quick, fun things you might enjoy this weekend.

First, my friend and writing partner Voni Harris has done a great series on her blog this month. She challenged four mystery-suspense authors to write a short story based on the same prompt. She's wrapping up the series this weekend with my story, Run. She's also offering a fun giveaway. You can check it out at her blog, Vonilda Writes.

Second, I did my first ever Periscope chat on Bible study! It was really fun. If you're wondering what Periscope is, it's a new social media outlet started by Twitter. I describe it as SnapChat meets YouTube. Periscope users broadcast live videos, which are then available for 24 hours. Mine should be available until around 10:00 a.m. Sunday (CST). Here's the link if you'd like to check mine out: How I Study My Bible.

I'm planning a post next week that talks more about my current Bible study method, why I chose it, and how it works. Until then, I hope you have a great weekend!

What I'm Making: January

Nervous energy may or may not be a good thing. I'm job hunting right now, after getting news that my boss at one of my jobs is getting ready to retire. Handing out resumes is stressful, and I've been busy knitting every evening.

I'm playing around with an idea (probably brought on by stress). Whether anything will come from it remains to be seen, but I'm thinking of starting an Etsy shop to sell my knitting. It's going to be a while - I have to build up my stock, come up with a name, and do quite a bit of prep work - but it's something I'm looking at pretty seriously.

I made my first coffee cozy this week. I love this simple pattern! It knits up quickly, and it's just so cute. I've already started a second cozy. This is something I'd love to carry in my shop.

My boys want me to make blankets for them, but I'm a little nervous about biting off such a big project. I found a great pattern on Ravelry, though. It's a block blanket, with a different pattern for each block. I'm making one for myself first, as a test pattern. If all goes well, I'll make one for each of my boys when I'm done. Here's where I'm at on the first square:

I'm working on a dishcloth, too. This ridge and rib pattern is my favorite for dishcloths so far. Again, I think these would be great for a shop. I've already made several for myself and some for family, too. When it's finished, it will look like this:

My Project Life app is seeing a lot of action, too. My goal is to create one page per week. Not necessarily big events, but just the little pieces of everyday life that are too easily overlooked and forgotten.

Most exciting of all - I spent this week editing my next short story, which will appear in the March crime-themed issue of Splickety Prime magazine. I'm really excited about this story. It's nothing like my first two - sweet stories that tugged at the heartstrings. This one is dark, full of twists, and the style I really want to write. Now that my short story is done, I'm diving back into edits on my novel this weekend. It's hard to believe I'm polishing it and getting it ready for beta readers, then agents. It still feels like a dream.

What are you making right now? 

When God Edits Your Life

I wrote a novel last year. I poured months of work into my rough draft. I spent hours researching it, trying to get every detail just right. The day I typed "the end" I was walking on air.

Then came the edits.

I had no idea what I was in for. It's unimaginably hard. Writing was easy compared to this. Editing is brutal. Painful at times. I sent chapters through my critique group, thinking the words were polished and ready, and they came back with dozens of suggestions to make it better. Sometimes there was so much red it looked like the victim in my murder mystery died on top of the manuscript.

Then I entered my first contest. I'd spent so much time on edits. My critique group thought it sparkled. I just knew I would do well. I was wrong. My scores were terrible. The judges shredded my work. I cried. I wanted to quit. Instead, I set the comments aside for a few days, then I picked them back up and really looked at the judge's remarks. I scrapped the first three pages of my story and completely changed the opening. My group critiqued it again. I entered another contest. This time, the day the announcements were made, I got a phone call. I was a finalist.

Editing is harsh, but I see the difference. It's making my story so much better. Each round of cuts, new scenes, and rewording makes my story stronger. And that makes it worth the hard work. I don't want to just leave my story as it is. I want to refine it because the end result - a better story - makes the difficulty worth it.

It's a lot like our lives. When God edits our lives, when He refines us, it's rarely easy. It can range from uncomfortable to painful. But it makes our faith so much more beautiful.

Just before Easter, I worked through Kris Camealy's book Holey, Wholly, Holy. I spent a good part of Lent wrecked. Crying. Aching. At one point I wrote in my journal: "I want to cry out, scream out to God, 'Is this enough? Is this what you want?' - because I can't face it. It's ugly. It's hideous." Cleansing, purifying, refinement - it hurts. Because it means seeing myself as I really am, and it's ugly.

The most beautiful part of editing and refining? The beauty that comes after. By the end of Lent, I could see it - my ugliness, my sinfulness, my brokenness, covered in grace, piecing me together. I wrestled with God during Lent. Refinement isn't a warm and fuzzy kind of goal. It's hard. But He wouldn't let it go. So I gave in, still scared, but knowing this is where He was taking me. I need to be refined.

There are so many things I want to refine in 2015. My body. My home. My soul. My writing. I want to be changed, better, stronger, healthier. The process is scary, though. It requires hard work, frustrating days, and sometimes tears.

Even now, as I write this, God is editing my life in unexpected ways. My work situation is changing, and I'll be honest - I'm scared. I don't have the answers. I don't know where He's taking me, and I don't like it. I wish things had stayed the same, but they didn't, and He has a reason for it.

I don't like change, but I don't want to be stagnant. I want to be better. In a world that slips further from God every day, I want to reflect Him more. 

God is refining me. All I can do is hang on tight. Cling to His hand. Maybe that's the point. Maybe the biggest lesson in this season of refinement is just to hang on to truth, to draw closer to God. My first instinct is to pull away from everyone, even Him, but I have to draw closer. The only way to find strength for the trials is to really dwell with Him. 

Next week, I'm starting a new series on spending mornings with God. This isn't something that came easily or quickly for me. I've spent years learning, and I still haven't perfected my habit. But even though it's imperfect, my morning time with God is precious to me. It gets me through the hard days, like the ones I'm in right now. Each week, I'll cover a new topic - from why it matters to how to find the right Bible study. I'm so excited. I hope you'll join me as we let God edit our lives.

Tell Them Your Stories

Our Christmas tree stands in our living room, fully decorated. You can't miss it. I bought it on sale months before we moved from Arkansas to Texas. The 5 1/2 foot wide, 7 1/2 foot tall tree would have looked great in the large parsonage we lived in, but it's huge in the living room of the small home we bought seven years ago. I've affectionately nicknamed it the "Jolly Green Giant" tree and can't imagine having anything smaller.

My boys love decorating the tree. Now that my oldest is taller than me and can easily reach the top, they're a huge help when it's time to put everything up. I was trying to balance putting up the tree and cooking dinner, so I let them handle a lot of the ornaments this year. I wasn't expecting what I heard:

"Here's Mitzy's ornament." (Our first Yorkie, who died almost three years ago.) "And here's Miley's." (Our two year old Yorkie.)
"Mom, here's the one from when you and Dad got married."
"These were Grandma's rocking horses, right?"
"Can we put up our baby ornaments?"
"Mom, here's more of your vintage Santas. What does vintage mean anyway?"

The significance of their comments didn't strike me until later, as I sat looking at the tree. My boys know the stories.

I have a thing about ornaments. I won't buy them just because they're cute - they have to have a story. There's our Santa on a motorcycle, because I've been promising my husband for years that he'd get one someday. (And he finally did, about two weeks ago.) My ballerina, because I took ballet and learned to dance on pointe (not well, but I did it). The wooden Hershey's ornaments and rocking horses that hung on my mother-in-law's tree, a small piece of my husband's childhood and his parents, who I never got to meet. The boys' first Christmas ornaments. The photo frame with the boys sitting in Santa's lap together for the first time, when our oldest was three and our youngest was just six months old.

Our tree isn't just hung with ornaments - it's hung with memories and stories.

Every family has stories. We have stories of how our family came to be: how we met, how our faith has been passed down from generation to generation. There are stories of our faith: miracles we've witnessed, answered prayers, God's faithfulness. We have family members our children will never know this side of heaven, people whose legacy shouldn't be forgotten. It's our history, and our children need to know it.

Tell your kids your stories. That's part of why I write, journal, and blog. I want to pass something down to my boys, something tangible that my children and grandchildren can see and touch. I want them to read about our family's ups and downs. When God is faithful, when He comes through in an amazing way, I want them to have a record of it.

I love the commands God gives Joshua and the Israelite's in Joshua chapter 4:

 6 Let this be a sign among you, so that when your children ask later, saying, ‘What do these stones mean to you?’ 7 then you shall say to them, ‘Because the waters of the Jordan were cut off before the ark of the covenant of the Lord; when it crossed the Jordan, the waters of the Jordan were cut off.’ So these stones shall become a memorial to the sons of Israel forever.”

He repeats the command just a few verses later:

21 He said to the sons of Israel, “When your children ask their fathers in time to come, saying, ‘What are these stones?’ 22 then you shall inform your children, saying, ‘Israel crossed this Jordan on dry ground.’

Our stories matter to our families and to God. This Christmas, take time to sit down with your children and tell them your stories. Tell them about your family, your faith, and  the greatest story of all - the story of God's love.

Getting Out of Your Comfort Zone

My hands shook as I fought the urge to turn and run away. What was I thinking? What had I done? I was too scared to move ahead, but the decision was made and there was no tuning back. Fearfully, reluctantly, I scoured the shelves until I found the books I needed for my college anatomy/physiology and sociology classes.

Ten years before, I made the decision to walk away from college and a full scholarship. When I graduated from high school, I was young and idealistic and had no idea what I wanted to do with my life, but I knew that I had to go to college. It was what everyone expected, even though I was floundering through with no clear direction. A four year degree was what I was supposed to do. Direction came as my sophomore year ended, when I got engaged and dropped out of college, to the protests of my family. I promised myself that when I figured out what I really wanted to do in life, I would go back.

Ten years passed, along with seven moves, two kids, and lots of ups and downs. I worked a part-time job that I loved, but knew there was no room to advance. I wasn't satisfied. At thirty years old, I decided it was finally time to go back to school. Absolute terror gripped my heart. I had officially lost my mind. How on earth would I manage my life as a pastor's wife, mom of two little boys, children's minister, and manager of a small fitness center - with a load of college classes thrown in?

Most of my friends supported me. A few told me I was crazy. A small handful were even hurtful. But this decision wasn't made easily, and it wouldn't be changed easily. In January 2010, I dove back into college. The crazy thing was, I did really well. In 2011, I was accepted into the dental hygiene program at a local college, and in 2013, I walked across the stage to receive my diploma as my family cheered me on.

While I was in college, people often told me, "I don't know how you do it." To be perfectly honest, I don't know how I did it either. I'm nothing special. I don't have superhuman balancing abilities.  Most days, I feel completely out of balance. If I'm doing well at one thing, I'm letting something else fall apart. So how did I manage?

I didn't. God did.

I think God gives us all crazy dreams sometimes. And I don't believe He gives them if He doesn't intend for us to follow them. We may not know how we're going to manage. That's okay, because He does. Other people may criticize our dreams, but that's okay, because they're our dreams, not theirs. If our dreams seem too big for us, it's all the more opportunity for God to show His power through us.

Since that crazy decision five years ago, God has continued taking me outside of my comfort zone. It's never been easy, but it's always been worth it. In the past two years, I've graduated from college, changed careers, run my first 5K, published two short stories, finished my first novel, and entered several writing contests. The next crazy step? Editing my novel and submitting it to agents and publishers. Am I scared? No - I'm terrified.

But I know now, just like I knew when I started college, that God is the One leading me down this crazy dreamer's path, and if He called me to do it, He will give me what I need to get through it.

When It's Time for Dreams to Take Flight

Have you ever kept something a secret for a long time? You walked around every day, desperate to talk about it but terrified of what everyone would think. That's where I'm at right now. I've been working on a huge project. Only a few people knew about it, but it's consumed a lot of my time and energy over the past few months.

I wrote a book. Well, it's the beginning stages of a book, anyway. It's a rough draft. There's a still massive amount of work to be done.

This past Saturday I finished the draft. I even typed "the end" just so I could have the satisfaction of seeing those words. I was so excited. Months of work and years of dreaming culminated in my first novel. I told my husband, my critique partner, my writing group. Emails and Facebook messages flew back and forth as they helped me celebrate the milestone. I was walking on air.

Until Monday night. That's when reality set in. I pulled out my laptop, ready to start some edits, when it hit me: Oh my word. I wrote a book. Now what do I do with it?

I spent months plotting, researching, and typing. I made up characters with complex histories and motives and agendas. I can tell you what each character looks like, what they sound like, what motivates them, and what they fear most. I brought this story to life.

Now what?

Technically, I know what's next: Edits. My critique group. Lots of coffee. Probably some tears. Writing contests. Polishing. Then the search for agents and publishers and (hopefully) a book contract. But that isn't what scares me most.

This novel is mine: my story, my ideas, my dream. It's fiction, but like any writing, it's intensely personal. Up until now, this story has lived only in my head. Now I'm launching it into the world. Other people will read it. They may like it. They may not. In fact, I know already that some people will hate it, because that's just the nature of the beast. No matter what we do, we can't please everyone. I'm letting people see a part of me that's been hidden for such a long time, and I'm opening myself up to criticism. That's scary.

But my dream has reached a point where it can't stay hidden anymore. Rough drafts can be written in secret. Dreams can be hidden for a while. But if dreams are to become reality - or even have a chance of becoming reality - they have to take wing. It's time to push my dream out into the world and see if it's fragile wings can catch the wind and take flight. It's been almost two years since I wrote about being a dreamer. Now it's time to take the dream to a new level.

I'm standing on the edge, looking into the unknown and seeing only a terrifying freefall. All the while, I hear a quiet whisper, "It's time. I've got this." God have me this dream. He called me to it. Now it's time to trust and take the leap. I'm scared, but I know my Father's courage will carry me through.

A Sneak Peak at Writing

I was excited to be tagged for this fun writer's blog hop! Here is a sneak peak at my writing...

1. What am I writing or working on?

I'm always working on several different projects. I normally write here on my blog at least once a week. It's been a little slow lately because of a huge children's ministry remodel I've been working on, but we finished Saturday, so I can get back to my regular posting schedule now. I'm also a contributor to the Christian mystery/suspense blog Sleuths and Suspects.

I've had two short stories published this year and I'm working on several more. I'm closest to finishing my first suspense short story - I'm doing edits and hoping to submit it to some magazines soon.

By far, though, my biggest project is my novel. Right now, I'm about 2/3 of the way done. I just entered my first contest with my novel this month. I also plan to enter ACFW First Impressions later this year, and my goal is to finish in time to enter the ACFW Genesis contest next year. I wish I could share more details, but I'm being vague about the plot because of the upcoming contests.

2. How does my work differ from others in its genre?

My novel is a mystery, and it's Christian fiction - but it's a little different. It's not romantic suspense. My main character is a Christian, and the story definitely comes from a Christian world view - but at the same time, I want someone doesn't read Christian fiction to be able to pick this novel and read it without feeling "preached to."

3. Why do I write about what I do?

My taste in books definitely leans to the darker side. I love gritty, realistic mysteries. My favorite genre is mystery, but I also love suspense, YA dystopian (The Hunger Games) and books that border on horror. (Sounds shocking, I know, but there are Christian books that fall into this category - think Frank Peretti's The Oath or Travis Thrasher's Isolation.)

People have questioned me on my reading choices more than once. Here's the reason behind it: We don't live in a perfect world. We live in a dark world, with a spiritual war raging all around us. Our faith doesn't make us immune to the horrible things that happen in life. I find myself drawn to stories where people face the worst in life - and somewhere, in the midst of the darkness, they cling to faith, and God carries them through. I like books that show us that even in the middle do the darkest night, God is there. He's clinging to us, and He's never letting go.

4. How does my writing process work?

My stories usually start with just a nugget of an idea. It might be a line, a scene, or just the question, "What if..." My most recent story, Salt Water, started with the idea of a woman standing on the beach, shivering in the cold water and wrestling with the past, and it went from there. My blog posts often come out of something I'm struggling with or learning about myself.

I use the Werdsmith app on my iPad for all my blog posts and a lot of my stories. I typically write my entire blog post on my iPad, then paste it directly into Blogger to edit, add photos, and finalize the design. I'll usually start my stories on the app, then email them to myself and move them into a Word document.

My book actually started with the main character and went from there. The first idea I dreamed up won't be in the first book - I'm saving it for later. Over several years, I built my ideas of my character, her life, her family, and her surroundings. It took a long time to work up the courage to actually start writing the story.

I don't have a set writing schedule, but I do a lot of my writing on my lunch breaks or on weekends. I stay busy with my family, my job, and our church, so I squeeze in time whenever I can.

Now to tag a few friends:

Jenni Saake blogs at Infertility Mom. We met through an (in)Courage group a few months ago. She is so inspiring!

Karan Gleddie and I met through our Hello Mornings Twitter group. Karan is always an encourager! You can find out more about her at her blog, Karan K. Gleddie.

Anita Strawn de Ojeda is part of a wonderful writer's group that I became a part of about two years ago. Five of us founded the group, which has now grown to thirteen members. We call ourselves The Writer's Bra, because our goal is to support each other as writers. You can learn more about Anita at Blessed But Stressed. 

Last but certainly not least is my critique partner, Kelly Liberto. Kelly was an answer to prayer when I got serious about finishing my novel. She encourages me, and she pushes me to do better. She's also talked me down a couple of times when I've been on the verge of a meltdown. Check out Kelly's writing and more at her website.

A Celebration Giveaway

February was an amazing month for me. My dream of being a published author came true when my first short story was published in Splickety Love magazine. This month, I decided to have a little celebration giveaway.

Thanks to some great friends, I've pulled together an amazing prize pack! One lucky winner will receive:

A one year digital subscription to Splickety Love magazine, including the premiere issue with my short story, "The Love She Never Had"

A digital copy of God's Daughter by Heather Day Gilbert

A digital copy of The Disappearing Key by Wendy Paine Miller

A digital copy of Elderberry Croft by Becky Doughty

If you love great Christian fiction, you will love this prize pack! The giveaway is open for one week. Just leave a comment to be entered - and check out several easy ways to earn more entries:

• Like Grace In Our Moments on Facebook
• Follow Grace In Our Moments on Twitter
• Tweet about the giveaway
• Follow Heather Gilbert, Wendy Paine Miller, and Becky Doughty on Facebook

Just click on the "leave a comment" button below to get started.

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Everyday

Saturday is pancake day.

I make my coffee and pull out my Bible and journal, lingering over it all. I savor the peacefulness of a slow start, waiting until sleepy-headed boys stagger into the living room, rubbing their eyes. My oldest now looks me in the eye, and my youngest stands up to my chin. They're hardly my "little" boys anymore. They plop down on the couch until they wake up ever so slightly, then they’re ready to cook.

My youngest has the recipe memorized. He pulls out the flour and baking powder and eggs, insisting on cracking at least one egg. He mixes the batter while my oldest pulls out butter, syrup and peanut butter, all the fixings for later, then starts the stove. He pours the batter and flips the pancakes as I watch. I don't warn him to be careful anymore because he can do this as well as I can. My youngest pulls out plates and forks, ready for the first pancake to come off the skillet.

As we sit down to eat buttery pancakes and crispy bacon, I breathe a silent prayer of thanks for these times with these boys. It's bittersweet. As much as I love it, my heart hurts, because I have such a short time left with them. In five years, my oldest will graduate high school. My youngest will follow in eight. I'm not ready for this season to end. Why won't time just slow down?

Time doesn't slow down, though, so I’m trying instead to slow myself down. I’m savoring little moments—cuddling as we watch TV, family dinners at the table, hours-long Monopoly games as we strategize and munch on chips and cheese dip. I want to spend time talking, really talking, to my kids about the important things in life and the silly little everyday things. I want to laugh with them. I want to burn the memories of this life into my brain, because it won’t last forever. Our normal, our everyday, is changing fast.

I learned from my own growing up years that life isn't made of the big moments. They'll remember those, too—the trips to Disney World, Christmases with piles of gifts, monster truck shows and concerts. But the biggest memories of their childhood will likely be the smallest ones—the snippets of everyday life that happened over and over. They'll remember pancakes on Saturdays, the whole family cuddling and giggling before bed, homeschool work in the Sunday School rooms while their daddy works in his office.

The big things are fun, but life isn't made of big things. It's made of a thousand tiny moments, weaving together to form a big picture. I want my kids to look back and love that picture. I want them to know that in the everyday, they were loved beyond measure.

Leaving Fear Behind

I wrote just a few days about my dreams of being a writer. It's been a scary journey, both writing and revealing my dreams of writing. So much of the journey has involved learning to leave my fears behind.

Last week, I got amazing news that made all the fears worthwhile: I'm getting published.

I recently sent a short story to Splickety magazine. It was my first fiction submission ever, and I was terrified. Honestly, my husband is the one who talked me into submitting it. A week ago today I got the email that changed everything - my story was accepted. It will be published in the first ever issue of Splickety Love on February 14.

From the time I first read Little Women when I was nine years old, I dreamed of being like Jo March, my favorite character. I wanted to fall in love, get married, have a houseful of boys, and write stories. Today, I stand amazed that God listened to those dreams of that little girl in south Arkansas, and He answered them. I can officially say that I am a writer.

Hello, I'm a Writer

Hello, my name is Amanda, and I'm a writer.

Photo credit: Tonya Salomons @ Stone To Heart

Artwork by Kathi Denfeld @ Lo-ly-gag

 

I still can't say those words aloud. It's too scary. The best I can do is type them. There's an expectation, a kind of reverence, attached to that single word, "writer," and I just can't say it along with my name yet.

I blog. I write fiction. I've submitted a query for an article to a major magazine, a short story to another magazine, and I've entered a huge fiction contest. (Now the waiting begins - it will be at least December before I hear back from any of them.) I've won a small writing contest. A few posts have been chosen as favorites in the weekly link ups I write for. My laptop and iPad are filling up with writing - blog posts, short stories, scenes and pieces of what will eventually (I hope) be a novel. So why can't I tell people "I'm a writer"?

 The biggest reason is fear. I know the next question will be "What have you written?" Nothing published, except my blog. I can't point to a book or story or article yet. I don't have concrete evidence that I am a writer. The fear lingers at the back of my mind - what if I never do?

What if I tell everyone "My name is Amanda, and I'm a writer," but nothing happens? What if there are no articles, no published stories, no books? Then what?

I think I'm still waiting for that magical moment when I'll really feel like a writer, when this whole dream I've had since nine years old will come true. I'm not sure if it will happen with the first article, or the first paycheck, or when I sign a book contract. 

I'm not sure when it will come, but I can't wait for the day I can fearlessly say, "I'm a writer." Because deep down, that's who I am. I'll write whether there's a contract or not. I'll write even if I never get a paycheck for it. I'll write because it's my release - it's what I have to do. It's what I was made to do. That's what really makes me a writer.

 

How To Be Brave

 

I'm close friends with fear - well, maybe "frienemies" is a better description. It's been a unwelcome part of my life for as long as I can remember. Worried, anxious fear. Mind-numbing, can't-breathe, panic attack fear. I know its many faces well.

When I was in junior high, I fell in love with the American West. The time period fascinated me, in part because these pioneers and early settlers knew a thing or two about fear. Families left everything behind for a chance to stake their claim on untamed land and start a new life. They faced droughts, storms, sickness, accidents, attacks, and more. For years, I read everything I could about this time period. During this time, I first read a quote from John Wayne:

 

I've used variations of this quote so many times with my kids, stressing to them that sometimes, you just have to face your fears. They aren't empty words. I've lived a lot of what I tell them. I fought a massive, decades long war against fear. While I overcame a lot, it's still a daily battle. Going back to college in 2010 brought up a whole new group of fears. Graduating silenced many of them - but not all. I still have big dreams beyond college, and big dreams bring bigger fears.

I'm trying really hard to be brave right now. Last week, I worked through the Blog Planning Boot Camp with Kat at How They Blog. Day One was exciting: writing down dreams of the legacy I want to leave behind. Day Two was scary: setting lifetime, five year, and ten year goals. By Day Three, I was in panic mode: breaking down my one year goals into small, doable steps and scheduling those steps on my calendar.

It's one thing to say I want to be a published, successful author and have a thriving blog. It's another thing to actually take steps toward that dream. The scariest part is the very simple act of admitting that I have the dream. (Click to Tweet) If no one knows my dream, and I never achieve it, it's no big deal. But if I admit it, if everyone knows my dream, and I never achieve it, then I feel like I've failed.

What if I tell everyone that I want to be a published author - but I never even get an article in a magazine? What if I share my dream of writing Christian fiction - but get only unfinished manuscripts or a stack of rejection letters to show for my work? What happens if I bare my soul to the world, letting them see the deepest desires of my heart - only to learn I'm not good enough to make it happen?

I've always been a dreamer - but now it's time to become a doer. It's time to push my fears aside and put my hopes into action. I'm shaking in my boots, but I'm saddling up anyway. I've dreamed it. I've planned it. Now it's time to dive in.

Chills: A True Story

I'm branching out again today on my blog and linking up with Studio 30 Plus.  I usually link fiction (like Love: A Very Short Story), but this time I'm linking up a true story of an event that changed the way I look at life...

Something was very wrong. A chill crept over me as I stood, staring at the ominous way the light refracted through the glass…the broken glass of a locked door, in the building where I stood alone. Or did I? My heart started pounding as I realized that the break in had occurred recently, within the two hours or so since I had last stood here – which meant those responsible might still be inside.

Adrenaline was suddenly racing through my veins. The first thought running through my head: call my husband, who was next door, and pray my phone could get in a signal in the huge metal building – at least if someone hit me over the head, he would know I was there. My second thought – get out. The only problem was that every door required a key to unlock it from the inside, a key I didn’t have. There were only two ways out for me, and both were on the other side of the building. I made a mad dash for the one I had come in through, fear pulsing through my body.

I raced back out the way I’d come, now seeing the evidence of a break in that I had overlooked – the overturned boxes, the open doors that should have been closed, the lights turned on. My husband was already in the parking lot, running to meet me as he called 911. We waited outside, shaken to the core.

The police came quickly, and caught the would-be burglar, empty-handed and still on the property. He was arrested - so high the police said he’d probably never even remember the events of that afternoon. The police later found out that I was the one who scared him off – he was in the building as I entered, but ran when he heard me, hiding on the property until his arrest.

He may not remember, but I will never forget. I’m really good at playing “what if” – a talent that comes in pretty handy when you want to write, but no so great when you face a terrifying experience. I’ve played the game a thousand times since that day, thinking through all the nightmares that could have come true. Even though it happened more than six years ago, I still remember every time I go into that building.

That single event, spanning just a few minutes on an otherwise normal day, changed me. I’m much more cautious now and aware of my surroundings at all times. I have a concealed handgun license and routinely carry my gun (a Sig Sauer, in case you’re wondering). I’m never without my cell phone. I won't walk blindly into a situation like that again if I can help it. And every time I think of it – even after six years – it still gives me chills.

Transitions

Life is all about changes.  Nothing stays the same for long.  But change is hard - even good change - and there's a part of us that wants to fight it.  No one likes the struggle that comes with transitions.

I'm in a transition period myself.   A few days ago, I mailed in my application packet for my dental hygiene license.  I've graduated.  I've passed both my regional and national tests. It's a done deal, except for a little paperwork and red tape.  In a few weeks, I'll get my license in the mail, and I will officially be an RDH.  For the first time in my life, I will have a career, not just a part-time job.  I can't wait to start this new phase in my life.

But I'm not quite there yet.  Technically, anyway.  I can't touch a patient until I get my license.  I'm still working my office job until my license comes in.  In a few weeks, everything will change - but for now, I'm caught somewhere in between.

I've also reached a transition period with my writing.  I can now spend more time focusing on writing.  I have ideas for magazine articles, blog posts, stories, and more, and I'm working on creating a schedule and trying to sit down daily to write.  I'm trying to move writing from something I do for fun to something I take seriously.  It's my dream, it's what I love, but it, too, requires a transition.

I have to admit, this whole process of change hasn't been as easy as I thought it would be.  I imagined that once I finished school, I would easily slip into a calm, "normal" life where balance came naturally.  How could it not after having such a huge load taken off my plate?  What I found instead were all the things I pushed aside to get through school now clamoring for my attention - fitness, ministry, home projects, and more.  Finding a workable schedule and sticking with it has proved to be a challenge, one that I'm still working on.

So what do you do when you're in-between two realities, moving from old to new?  You stay faithful.  You keep working hard.  I'm still working at my job at an insurance office.  I'm slowly working on my home, catching up on all the things I didn't have time to do during college, planning so that hopefully things will run smoothly once I start my new job.  I'm working my way into a new fitness routine and slowly changing my eating habits.  I'm jotting down ideas and developing them slowly, working from my laptop and my new iPad mini to create blog posts and articles.  I'm emailing my critique group and my writers group for feedback and advice.  I'm keeping an ear out for job openings and professional connections.  I'm trying to weave what seems to be a thousand little pieces of my life into something that works.

Change is natural and normal, but it's not easy.  I'm growing - and I'm having some growing pains to prove it.  My life is morphing into something new and better.  For now, though, I'm hanging on through the transition.

Coming Soon...

I've been linking up pretty often this year with Holley Gerth's blog, sharing my God-sized dreams.  Well, here is a tiny little piece of a God-sized dream beginning to come true...

A few months ago, I won a small flash fiction contest held by one of my favorite authors, Steven James.  I just hoped I could possibly get a spot in the top ten.  I never expected to win!  I was so excited to receive an autographed copy of his newest book - and publication in Splickety Magazine, a new flash fiction magazine.  Yesterday I got on Facebook and found a message letting me know that my entry will be published in July's issue!

Yes, it's only 130 characters.  Yes, it's small.  But it represents something big - a dream bigger than myself.  A tiny crack into a real world that before now has only lived in my imagination.  I've blogged for years.  I've guest posted on some pretty big blogs.  But I've never had anything published, in print, with my name on it - and I never even dreamed that the first thing I would see my name on would be fiction.  I spent so much time telling myself I could never do this.  Now I'm proving myself wrong.  I'm scared to death, and too excited to think!

Dreamer (Updated)

It's been a while since I shared my first post linking up my God-sized dreams with Holly.  I wrote about being a dreamer and how it scares me to think of taking a chance on making these dreams a reality.  But the dream was too deeply held to let go, so I forged ahead.

I had to set writing aside for a while as I finished my other God-sized dream - finishing dental hygiene school.  My graduation day was one of the happiest days of my life.  I cried with pure joy after I crossed that stage.

I'm excited to finally be done and I'm ready to launch my new career.  I'm also thrilled that I'll finally have time to really focus on writing now. 

Despite having to slow down for a while, I've gotten some great conformations about my dream.  A couple of months ago, I entered a small flash fiction contest held by Steven James, one of my favorite authors.  The winners would receive an autographed copy of his newest book AND publication in Splickety magazine, a new flash fiction magazine.  I prayed that if God wanted me to continue this writing dream, that I could place in the top ten.  I just wanted some conformation, a nudge to show me I'm headed in the right direction.  A few days later, I saw this:

That was huge!  What a much needed confidence booster that was for me.  Now I'm eying a much bigger contest and playing with the idea of entering it.  I have a story I'm working on, with an eye on submitting it for publication.  I also have a couple of articles in mind to pitch to a magazine. Things are coming along, slowly but surely.

When Your Dreams Scare You

There's a reason we call them "God-sized dreams."  They are dreams that are so much bigger than us - and for that reason, they can be terrifying dreams. 

I'm not a brave woman.  I'll be honest - I'm a chicken.  There are a lot of things that scare me.  Storms.  Heights.  Clowns.  (Don't laugh - there's a reason behind it.)  There are a lot of things that absolutely terrify me about my dream of writing.  I'm afraid of failure.  I'm afraid of what other people will think.  I'm afraid of rejection.  I dream of writing fiction, but I'm afraid of what will people think if I write what I love (mysteries) and let them see the darker side of my personality.  People tell me I'm nice, quiet, sweet - what will they think when they find out that's not quite so true, that I want to write about murderers and the people who track thrm down?

But I can't deny that writing is a part of who I am.  From the journals I've kept since childhood, to my overactive imagination, to the stories I've written in my head for so many years - I love writing.  I've dreamed of it for years, but always convinced myself I wasn't good enough.  But these past few months, it's become a dream I can't push aside any longer.  I have to write.  Even if its never published.  I can't not write.

I write stories about characters I could never be like.  I write stories about things I could never face.  I write stories that have my nerves on edge.  I put myself, heart and soul, into my writing, and putting it out there for people to read and judge - it's scary.  I'm putting a piece of myself out there for people to judge.  I'm an introvert, yet writing forces me to go way outside my comfort zone.  

But I can't deny that this is a God thing.  I know, beyond doubt, that He is leading me in this writing journey.  He is the One who whispered to my heart, reawakening this dream that had been put aside for so long.  He is the One who confirmed my dream in very specific ways.  I can't worry about what others think - only what God thinks, because He is the Giver of this dream.  

An Exciting New Launch!

I'm so excited!  Today marks the offical launch day for How They Blog, and I'm so happy to be part of the launch team.

I knew NOTHING when I started blogging several years ago.  I've learned a lot over the years, but there is so much more that I'm still clueless on!  How They Blog will give a sneak peak into the world of some of the best bloggers around.  They will share tips and tricks, favorite tools, and so much more to help me and you become better bloggers.

I've been stalking following Kat for several years at her blog Inspired to Action, where she shares great practical advice that every mom can use.  I've also been an accountability captain for several Hello Mornings challenges.  Kat launched Hello Mornings to provide encouragment and accountability as women strive to start their days by spending time with God.  The challenge has grown to thousands of participants, with groups across the world meeting via Twitter or Facebook.  I know she's going to do just as great with her new project as she does with her current ones.  Hop over to the new blog today and check it out!

Why I Love This Journey

Last week I wrote one of "those" posts - the one that makes you feel a little bit dizzy and a whole lot terrified when you hit publish. Broken Gifts (http://graceinourmoments.blogspot.com/2013/03/broken-gifts.html?m=1) was very raw and emotional. It was hard to share, because it came from my own brokenness, but God wouldn't let go of me until I posted it. Apparently a lot of other people feel broken, too, because in just a few days, that has become my all-time top blog post. When I hear feedback from others thanking me for my honesty because they needed that message, it makes the absolute terror I felt worth it.

Writing itself has always brought me joy. There's something very cathartic about pouring out what's on my heart, getting it all on paper, putting my feelings into words, and now, thanks to blogging, sharing it. It usually doesn't take long to realize I'm not the only one feeling this way. I think that's one of the best parts of writing - realizing that I'm not alone.

When I get a comment or a tweet saying, "That was exactly what I needed to hear today," I know my voice matters. I may be a pretty small fish in a sea of writers and bloggers, but if my words can encourage one person or make a difference in one person's day, then I've accomplished something.

As much as I love it, though, I still struggle to call myself a writer. I started getting more serious with my writing a little over a year ago. I write two blogs and contribute monthly to another. I have book ideas waiting in the wings for me once I finish the first one, the one I've been plotting in my mind for years but was too afraid to put on paper. I know this is where God wants to take me because in all honesty, I would never have started this journey without His gentle nudging. But it's still hard for this shy introvert to claim the title and say "I'm a writer." Even though writing makes me feel whole and happy, it's hard to say it when I don't yet have a book in print or even an article in a magazine (although that may be about to change - I'll know in a few weeks).

One thing I've learned, though, is that God gives us dreams and gifts for a reason. He wants us to use them for His glory. And He wants us to enjoy them. I love chasing my God-sized dream. I love meeting people who share my dream and walking that road together. The whole journey really brings me joy. I can't wait to see where God takes me!