And the Award for Versatile Blogger Goes to.....

.... ME!  *smile*

One of the advantages of the Platform Builder Campaign is meeting so many, many new writers.  Another is the awards we share.  Through a Writer's Eyes has just received a Versatile Blogger Award. 

Thanks to Elizabeth Anne at http://elizabethannewrites.com/2011/09/13/im-a-versatile-blogger/ for expanding my borders.  She is a successful author of children's books who shares her experiences through her blog.  These are the kind of connections I treasure.

The rules for accepting the award are as follows:

1. Thank the person who gave you the award and link back to them in your post.

2. Share 7 things about yourself.

3. Pass this Award along to 15 recently discovered blogs and let them know about it.

Since I just did a list about me, I'm going to limit the 7 things to 7 types of books/writing that I like the best.  

1.     All time favorite book is The Outsiders.  Still cry when Dally is shot....

2.     One of my favorite authors is Tolstoy - and I have been to his house in Moscow!

3.     I love to read biographies.  Nicolas Sparks, Tolstoy, and James Dean all live in my memories because of their biographies.

4.    Poetry makes me introspective.  I have been lost in Thoreau for days. I don't memorize it, so don't ask for a quote.  I just dawdle over the phrases and luxuriate in their turns.

5.     Light fiction and romance novels are not my favorite types of reading.  They bore me and make me think, "someone got paid to write that....."

6.     The Bible is the richest piece of literature I have ever explored and I never tire of it.

7.      I collect old books and have found them to be the best forms of mental escape.

Now, passing the award along to 15 recently discovered blogs.  I have included some who I regularly follow to open up their readership and some I have recently discovered.  There are some greater writers out there of so many different genres.  Stop around their pages and let me know if you find a new one to follow.

 

1.            Mark Showalter’s Blog – Always Seeking to Know God More – Life lessons and perspectives taught in a transparent, simple way.  My favorite “teaching” blog.  You can find it here:  http://mshowalter.wordpress.com

 

2.            Ninetyandnine.com – The first writing gig, the first blog invite, the place to connect with other readers and writers:  http://ninetyandnineword.blogspot.com/

3.            Seth Boyte – One of my favorite musicians is also one of my favorite writers.  His blog is here:  http://sethboyte.blogspot.com/2011/08/piano-student-christians.html

4.            Rachel is a writer who connects writers.  She is a great example of all that’s right in the writer community.  Her blog is here:  http://rachaelharrie.blogspot.com/

5.            Courtney Pearson writes when not parenting, although I’m guessing a lot of her writing comes from her parenting. She is in the process of publication.  You would enjoy her stuff.  Here is where to find her:  http://cortneypearson.blogspot.com

6.            K.T. Hanna writes about writing, freestyling the process to share the hows and dos and pains and glories of writing.  It’s a great connection that makes you feel like you (and she) know what you’re doing and it’s going to be great!  She is found here:  http://www.kthanna.com

 

7.            A fellow fan of Natasha Bedingfield, Amanda shares “twisted truth” which seems to me funner more than twisted.  Judge for yourself:   http://amandastwistedtruths.blogspot.com

8.            Gary Gauthier explores literature in a fascinating way.  Find out how here:  http://garygauthier.blogspot.com

9.            Kelly is my long lost friend who started the whole Writer Platform Builder Campaign stage of my life and so her blog must be included here.  Her work is full of real life and you will LOVE it.  Promise.  Find it here:  http://clickerbug.wordpress.com

10.            Diane lets us follow her through many of the places she has been.  He work is full of the patient dreaming of her heart.  Find it here:  http://thepatientdreamer.wordpress.com

11.         Sharon is a great friend who writes about the season of life she is in.  She transplanted to Florida to help her elderly parents and tells of their trials and smiles along the way.  Find her experiences here:  http://oldpeopleandme-sharon.blogspot.com

12.         Sometimes people need to speak their onions!  To get the courage to say what you’re thinking, check out Kristin’s blog here:  http://moosateleven.blogspot.com

Three more?  I think this is where I’m going to break the rules.  Not only am I not going to come up with three more (since there really are not three more I have found that I am ready to recommend - I don't take this lightly, you know), I’m also not going to require recipients to post the same.  If you have a list of blogs you read, please do share them.  If you prefer not to, that’s ok.  I will love you the same.  

I will ask you to do the list.  *smile*  AND I will ask you check out the blogs above.  I think you’ll like them.  A lot.  I do.  I love hearing what’s happening in other places and how people relate to the world.  My world is very small right now and so I love this avenue of learning and sharing.  

So that’s it.   A long, superfluous post!  Happy Thursday!

Unwritten

Below is a piece from my next book, expected to be published this fall.  It's fitting to let you peek at it now.  The book is divided into seasons.  This piece fits well in the autumn section, I think.  What do you think?

Enjoy!

=====================================

Thinking about unwritten books, unspoken words, unthought emotions.  They sit there, beneath the surface waiting for the right pen to come along and begin the sentence.  Or maybe it’s not even the pen, but the words that are unavailable.  These ideas that need something to give them life.  These emotions that need someone to give them purpose.  They sit there buried under reality and wish for someone to dig a little deeper, ask another question, see a little more clearly.

Instead.  They stay unwritten, unspoken, unthought.

But felt.  Clearly. 

I can’t help but wonder, where is God?  Has He left me after all this time? 

Now when my world is falling apart?  My paradigms are shifting?  My words are pushed back at me?

I keep wishing that the words under my skin would find some way to be released.  That they would find someone to hear them.  That someone would care enough to remove the wall, brick by brick, and allow the words to breathe.

I’m afraid of failure.  I’m afraid that if I open myself up, I’ll only find myself vulnerable and hurt.  I’m afraid that if I try to speak, I’ll not find an unresponsive listener, but I’ll find ridicule.  And so I swallow the words and put the pen away and close the book.

I’d rather keep them to myself than risk their exposure to taunting. 

But that Voice deep inside says to be open, to share these words, to be an open book.

I pray aloud, “Can you tell me, please, if anyone wants to hear, then?  Can you tell me, please, if I’m just to carry all of this emotion alone for all my life?  Would the words be shushed if they were shared?”

See?  That’s why I close the book, put the pen away and swallow the words.

But the words push themselves to the surface over and again.  Unwilling to remain unseen. 

If only I knew someone would listen.  I would share my words.  I would describe the cacophony of sound I see and sing the colors that dance around me.  I would write in great detail and wondrous prose the events and times and lives that shape my world.  I would leave a legacy.  A written record.  A history. 

But no one really seems to want to hear. 

Or perhaps, I am not looking far enough or deep enough or soft enough.

From a distance, I hear again, the Voice of my Lord, “Be still and know.  Give and it shall be given. “  And peace fills the void and silence is stilled.

The Door Swung Open.....

The first writer's challenge of the campaign asked for a 200 word story beginning with the words, "The door swung open" and ending with the words, "the door swung shut."   Below is my piece.  How long does it take for you to figure out who she is and what she is looking for?  

Enjoy!

=================================================

The door swung open, silently.  

She looked carefully at every inch before her.  Over the counter, around the cupboards, beside the appliances.  Nothing.

Instincts tightened, senses heightened, she took one step, then another.  She knew, she absolutely knew something was there. 

Perhaps what she heard was something else?  Someone instead of something? 

But, no.  She knew exactly what it was.  It was hiding now, but she would find it.  She knew every nook and cranny of this room.  The precisely lined containers along the marble countertop would reveal, not conceal.  The mirror-like, spotless stainless steel refrigerator and stove reflected nothing.

Slinking, she moved again.  The Italian tiles were smooth, cool beneath her feet and absorbed her steps.  Carefully she peeked around the corner. 

There it was; clearly cloaked in fear, trembling. 

She strode across the floor, then, confidently swaggering.  With great disdain she looked down upon the mouse like a mighty hunter about to take its prey.  Eyes narrowed, she licked her lips, twitched her whiskers and tail in unison.   “Too small,” she thought.

Emboldened by fear, the mouse made one last ditch effort to escape.  It jumped into action, skidded gracelessly through the opening and the door swung shut.

Ten Things

Well, this whole campaign and reading what everyone else is writing has done wonders for my motivation.  That's a fact.  Those of you who know me will find this list redundant.  Those new friends I have connected with, may find it a bit eclectic.

But since Kelly lured me into this and Kelly has just posted ten things about her, I thought I'd see if I can find ten things about me to say.  Not sure how this will go....

1.  I was raised in foster care.  That's an important fact about me.  It says how I view relationships, money, time, responsibility and family.  Please don't assume any negatives from my experience.  There are so many more positives that they far outweigh what might have been.  I had amazingly good foster parents.  I hope my life honors their memory.

2.  I love to read.  All kinds of books.  Always have.  L'Amour to Paul to Tolstoy to Fitzgerald to Castle.  Biographies are my favorites, but I read all sorts of random things.

3.  I hate guns.  It's my right as a patriotic American to hate guns.  Think what you will.  Tell me again that guns don't kill people..... I hate guns.  Hunting rifles used to feed your family, that's different.  I mean handguns and machine guns.  The kind of weapons only used to take life.  They only brings sadness - whether they kill someone or not. 

4.  I love Jesus.  I am an outspoken born-again believer in the name of Jesus.  True story.  I try to follow His teachings and live to please Him.  I don't know if I'm a very good Christian, but I try. 

5.  I have four official angelbabies and many, many more extras.  Angelbabies are grandchildren.  They call me Bapka (Polish for Grandmother according to Google translations).  They make me smile constantly. 

6.  I love kids.  I have two sons and one daughter-in-law, but have been adopted by a wide range of kids - some barely younger enough to be my children.  They are all colors of the rainbow and come from many cultures.  I love them each individually and am proud to be owned by them.

7.  This is getting tougher....  Let's see.... I am a writer.  I suppose you already know that.  It took me a long time to believe my 7th grade English teacher who first labeled me.  I think I was 40 when I started to call myself a writer.  I was 44 when I published my first book.

8.  I am divorced.  That's hard for me to remember, too.  I know I'm not married, but it's hard to remember why sometimes.  Mental block, I suppose.  It's an important fact about me, but I don't always advertise it.

9.  My bucket list has a lot of traveling on it.  I love to go places and meet new people.  I like to see the world through their eyes and experience their lifestyle.  Such an amazing diversity in our world.

10.  My house decorating theme is "My Stuff."  Strewn about the walls and bookshelves and floor and cabinets are stories collected from people who have crossed my path.  Grandma's PianoOrgan, books from friends long gone, Angelbaby toys, gifts from my sons who were once little boys, pictures of my sister and I.  It's my stuff.  It's not much, but it tells the story of me. 

There!  I did it!  Ten things about me.  Well, if you are still reading, thanks!  Now.... tell me about you.  At least tell me where you are from and how you found this writer's words.

Writer's Platform Building Campaign

Just a quick note to let you know you may see some changes around here. 

No, nothing major.  I'm not moving to NYC and I haven't gotten the "call" from a publishing house.  Not yet today anyway....

But I have joined a campaign which will link me to many other writers.  I hope they leave comments and I hope you enjoy the new friendships we are about to make.  I know they will help me hone this skill God has given me. 

I have also added a couple of things to our main page.  If you scroll down the right a bit you'll see some of your favorite posts.  Well, they are someone's favorite.  They are the things that people have read the most.  I thought adding them there might make them easier to find if you suggest them to someone else to read.  I've also added a gadget which shows the all-time page hits to our page.  You will know you aren't alone in reading my ramblings. 

Drop me a note.  Let me know what you think.  After all, as a writer I must write, but as a blogger, it's good to know there are readers.

Happy Wednesday, Friends!  Carpe Diem!

Thank You, Again

I wrote and posted the piece below two years ago.  Doesn't seem like so much time has passed.  I feel the same way today, only stronger.  

I saw the video clip of the dog who mourned at the casket of his brave owner who gave his life protecting American freedoms, my freedoms.  It got me to thinking, again, about the price paid.

This is a special re-post to thank those in uniform who make it so I can go to the church of my choice on Sunday and worship as I please.  A thanks for letting me be an educated woman, free to read and speak as I choose.  A thanks for making a place where my sons can become men of honor wherever their talents and hearts take them.

I love being American.  I appreciate the price paid.

To my Uncle, retired Navy, my cousin, retired Marine, and the "kids" of mine who serve proudly today - thank you.

To those who go in when fire pushes everyone else out.  To those who lose countless hours of sleep trying to figure out who is selling drugs to the latest juvenile overdose victim.  To those who risk their lives to keep the peace.  To those who race off to the latest tragedy to try to save one more life today....

Thank you for taking care of us.  This planet doesn't hold enough to pay you.  

To the Police, Fire and Rescue professionals - thank you.
  
Pass it on.

Friday, September 11, 2009

September 11th - 8 years Later

I wasn't there. I didn't see the planes or smell the dust or hear the screams or the agnonizing silence.

Safely tucked away in the Midwest where nothing bad like that ever happens, I listened in horror. The radio newscaster's voice broke as he tried to relay information about unreal events. It sounded like a bad Hollywood movie, but it was real.

This time it wasn't Jerusalem or Belfast or Seoul. It was happening in our country. The United States of America.

Someone had the audacity to take advantage of our trust. The idea that everyone here from wherever they came could learn to become whoever they wanted to be.

No one expected that would mean that a would-be pilot would destroy instead of build.

Over the years I have spoken with New Yorkers about what this meant to them. They tell of their sorrow, who they knew, how they got out, where they were. They never tire of the telling and I'm grateful.

We can't forget this.

Not so we become angry, refusing to allow "foreigners" to learn new trades. Not so we become suspicious of everyone who looks like someone who might have been involved.

So we can be wary, alert, cautious and protect not only our country from this violence - but other countries as well.

This time it was New York City. It's true. How did we feel?

Many, many times in my lifetime it's has been Beirut, Kabul, Seoul, Belfast, Jersusalem. Lockerbie, Moscow. How do they feel?

What can we as human beings do to lessen the violence in our world? What would Jesus do?

Finding Loss

I have seen too much loss in the last couple of weeks.  Big losses.  Wake-up-and-think-about-them-again losses.  Nothing –you-can-do-to-change-it losses.

Life, mostly, but not only.

I have a friend who is getting a divorce.  I understand the good and bad that melt together in that season and it makes me sad.  I want to get her past those days into the next season.  The one where she will be re-building, re-identifying herself and her purpose.  I want her to get to the season where she feels good about herself again, full of confidence and hope.

But I can’t.  She is in the deleting season and it must be lived to get to the next place. 

So I pray and ask God to help her through.

I have another friend whose only child was diagnosed with leukemia and then gone in three weeks time.  Three long, life-filled, overwhelming weeks. 

The obituary would say some lovely words about his being a husband and father, perhaps make mention of his new, exciting business.  But there aren’t enough words to describe how much this man meant to his family.  He was healthy, strong, young just at the cusp of making a deep impression on the world.  And now he’s gone.  I have cried many tears for this young man and for his father, my friend.  I don’t understand why some things happen.  It makes me sad. 

So I pray for my friend and his family and hope they see God stringing the threads together to make them stronger.

The tragedy undermines the heaviness of the other sad news – my friend whose twins were born much too soon.  Struggling for life in a plastic cube an hour away from all of their family, they begin this life alone, together, and I pray for their miracles to build mountains for them.    On the same day, my son was diagnosed with a troublesome, bothersome, persistent condition that will complicate things for him when he least expects it. 

So I pray for them that they will see the gift and not the challenge of life.

Finally, a long time friend is found in his chair.   It had been two days since he was last seen.  Someone  wondered where he was and they found him, sleeping eternally.   

My writer’s mind seeks justice to bring balance.  Where is God?  What is this about?  What is He thinking?   My logical friends tell me God isn’t really real and I’m clutching straws.  Life happens and you just have to deal with it.  My education tells me to think it through, write it out, analyze it and set it on a shelf for someone else to think about, write about, analyze.

I have had difficult seasons before.  Closer than the one degree of separation of this season.  Maybe that’s why this sadness affects me more?  I am brought back to other, closer, sadder days.

This circle brings me back to my friend sleeping in his chair.  Funny, but I can’t imagine him sitting still.  I see him laughing with a bag of groceries in his hand, “I brought some breakfast.”  Eggs, potatoes, onions, butter.  Not very healthy, but very filling, especially when served with a little flirtatious teasing and a lot of compassion.   Stone soup perfected!

I see his youthful strength and confidence.  No fear.  No failure.  Somehow everything would work out allright.  Somehow, mostly, it did.  Unexpected kind words smoothed the dark days.   And laughter.  Wow… we laughed in those days.   Strains of Janis flitting in the background, living on the underside of poverty with nothing left to lose, we laughed. 

We talked much of God in those days.  Never doubting His presence, never doubting His grace.  Not quite sure about how to apply it and who He would accept, but sure in our knowledge that somehow He would make it allright.  He would figure it out.  And He did. 

Time, distance, more life separated my path from my sleeping friend, but the impressions remained.   What we have to give, we ought to give.  When we can share a kindness, we should.  Laughter does good, like a medicine.   Believe in Someone greater than yourself.  Trust Him, even when you can’t see Him.  Don’t be afraid to love.

I can’t solve the great theological debates to answer the question of where is God in bad days, but I know He is there.  His comfort surrounds me.  I pray my friends see Him, too, in their dark days.  I pray He is tangible to them and they know how much He loves them. 

I guess that’s really the writer’s answer to sad days.  We pray.

Oddly enough, when I pray, I see the immensely good things that God sends to bring me balance.  The flowers picked for me and the little gentlemen whose generosity is outshined only by their shy smiles.  The tender touch of angelbabies who just want to be held.  The co-workers laughing in complicity over nothing.  The warmth of the sun kissing my skin on a perfect summer walk.

Life is life and we just simply must live it.  Good and bad jumbled together.