Spring is Here!

Is it spring yet?

I am exercising faith today.  You know the "substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen" and I am hereby declaring that winter is over! 

I am done with snow.  Done with cold.  Done with bone chilling wind.  Done with shoveling.  Done with the whole kit and kaboodle! 

I declare that spring is on the way!  It is, after all, the morning we Spring our Clocks ahead and that's a harbinger of longer sunlight days, which assumes we will have sunlight.  That's a spring thought.

It is also March which is the month when Spring arrives on the calendar. 

The average temperatures start to change in Spring, too.  Gradually warming until the snow is melted and flowers start to push up through the ground.

I'd like to declare this as a Spring season in my life as a whole, too. 

If you have read my book, A Friend Named Jesus, you know I see life in seasons.  Winter is closed in and lonely, sometimes.  Spring, on the other hand, is full of promise, change, newness, good news. 

I'm ready for that Spring, too. 

Winter causes me to be too much alone gives too much time for introspection, self-doubt, insecurities.  Too much time for wondering what if - not enough time for basking in the blessings of the season.

I am ready to see some promises break forth!

In light of all of that, I have made some minor changes to the website to include a chapter from Spring and a link to the Kindle Ebook editions of both of my books.  If you're of a mind, wander over and check that out here:  KrisANewman.webs.com

I would also note that the latest edition of the Chippewa Valley's 5ive for Women magazine is on the stands.  It includes the stories of several exceptional women, some of whom I was privileged to interview.  You can also find it online by following this link:  5ive for Women Magazine

So, there ya have it.  I hereby do therefore declare it is Spring! 

Snowflakes

I feel like I need to apologize to my Blog Readers.  I haven’t done much casual, public writing lately.  The words are shut up in my life waiting for the story to fall out.  

Not that I haven’t been writing.  My writing is required now for work where I write someone else’s words.  I take his thoughts and mold them and shape them so he says what he intends without having to think about syntax and grammar.  I like that part of my job, actually.

I have been writing for the magazine, too, which I really enjoy.  I find that I enjoy conducting interviews.  I like drawing out someone else’s story, someone else’s importance, someone else’s contributions to the world.  It’s uplifting and encouraging to me.  Selfishly it expands my horizons.  Then I get to write about it and share those stories of hope and accomplishment with my readers.  Writing for 5ive for Women has been a true blessing.

I really like that, a lot.

 

But personal writing has been mostly private ramblings and reflections.  I don’t think it has any real value to anyone else, so I throw my words out onto paper somewhere and tuck them away.  I can’t not write, you know, but not every word is meant to be shared with everyone.

I’ve been living a bit lately, too.  Good, bad, puzzling, sad.  Life is swirling around me and I rise and fall on the winds of time like the myriad of snowflakes which will not cease to grow on my lawn.

Speaking of snowflakes, as much as I enjoy them, I would rather not enjoy them up-close-and-personal like I did in the ditch the other day.  I drive a lot, you know, and I suppose the law of averages played out.  Thankfully my angels heard me calling, “JESUS JESUS JESUS” as I slid from the road into the ditch. 

Bouncing back and forth between the banks sliding in the soft snow, I finally landed at a tilt, but without any major damage.  As far as I know.  

It scared me, I have to tell you.   Even more when the friendly EMS guy who witnessed my mayhem said, “I thought for sure you rolled.  I don’t know how you didn’t.”

My instant response, “thank the Lord, that’s all I can say.  Thank the Lord.”  

And thank the Lord I do. 

This mishap is the latest in a string of annoying expenses that I have to cover. 

These mishaps keep me from writing, too.  I wish I could figure how to make my words marketable so they can pay for my life.  I’m not asking for much.  I’m just asking this tyrant which demands so much of my creative energy to pay for itself.  Fix my car, help pay for new glasses, get the dental work out of the way.  Is that asking for too much?

Apparently, it is.

And I don't mean to complain, please don't misunderstand me.  I look around me at the lives of my friends and family whose difficulties are much greater than my own and I am thankful for the troubles I have.  I am bothered, honestly, mostly that I can't find a way to help them more.  I watch God provide in amazing ways and I am thankful, truly.  I only wish I needed less so I could help them more.  

And all the while the words taunt me from their cheerful shelf and life swirls pulling me from one side of the ditch to the other while I watch the grace of God hold me still in the middle of it all.

That’s how a writer sees this slice of life.

To order a copy of 

A Book of Pages About Crossing Bridges or a Friend Named Jesus, 

please visit my website:  Writer's Pages

Facebook:  Author Kris A. Newman

 

 

Still Walking in the Light

I posted this piece originally about two years ago - when I still lived in the little apartment next door to church.  I don't walk to church anymore, but I do still walk a lot and sometimes when it's very bright out and it has snowed.... I can picture the morning written about below.

Since I have many new readers, I thought I would post it again.  I hope you enjoy it.

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I live so close to my church that I walk to church – snow, rain, cold – I walk. I really couldn’t park much closer than I live so there is no point in driving. Mostly, I enjoy it. It gives me a little space to put away home and get my mind ready for church. I love church, by the way, which you already know if you know me at all.


The sky was so intensely blue, the sun so intensely bright and the snow so intensely white that it actually hurt my eyes. I was teared up and struggling to see where to place my feet as I walked. Maybe you have walked in a light as bright, too? Well, this is how my writer’s eyes lived the moment….

My eyes are tired. They are puffy and dark and small and full of unbidden tears. The brightness of the sun makes me look away and down. Instinct tells me it’s too bright! I can’t see before me. I can’t open my eyes. Not only the sun is bright, but the snow reflects that light and throws snowflakes at me formed on the wind. They dart at me like tiny daggers pushing me back.

I want to shield myself from the brilliance, do something to stop the burning. I should have just stayed inside, tucked away, in my dark, quiet, space.

But I need to go to church.

I can’t stay where I am if I’m going to grow. I need to be fed by the community that is church.

I need some iron to brush against me and rough off the edges. I need some gentle voices to fill the empty places. I need to have someone touch me, hug me, tell me they are glad I’m here! I need someone to pull away the aloneness and give me value.

I need to tell someone they make me smile, to give encouragement to someone else, to let them hear me pray, to sing, to share the joy He brings.

I understand the sharpness of the light. I know the scientific implications. My mind is wrapped around it.

I know why I must leave my little apartment behind and get through it.

But recognizing and living are two different things. No one can walk through the light for me. No one can clean the burn – only my tears can clear my vision. No one can keep walking for me. I must see where I need to be and I must do what it takes to get there.

Walking through the brilliance, I see His majesty at a whole new level.

The Life-Light blazed out of the darkness; the darkness couldn't put it out. John 1:5, The Message

 

To order a copy of A Book of Pages About Crossing Bridges or a Friend Named Jesus,

 please visit my website:  Writer's Pages

Facebook:  Author Kris A. Newman

Just Another....

Another birthday passed.  Another milestone reached.  Another day down.

But writers, you know, don’t ever see things quite that black and white. 

I am one of those people who are both celebratory and reflective on my birthday.  I like to eat and sing and laugh and birthdays are great opportunities for that.  I am always somehow just a little jazzed on my birthday even before I’m hopped up on sugar.  

People say so many nice things to you when it’s your birthday.  The advent of Facebook and Twitter have magnified those opportunities.  People who you forgot you knew throw all kinds of lovely words at you on your birthday.  

I know some people think those internet re-connections are shallow.  I think it’s nice.  And I’m pretty sure that people mean what they say when they are sending a birthday wish.  After all, they make the effort.  That’s nice.  Thoughtful.  Sometimes their words are very generous and they do all sorts of good to my ego.

I even have a couple of friends who send actual greeting cards with handwritten messages in them.  Love that.  To think that they took time before a particular date on the calendar to think of me.  That’s very nice.

There is usually lunch or dinner out on my birthday, too.  Which is fun.  I like any excuse to get together with people I like to be with to laugh and eat.  Presents are totally optional.  But laughter is required.

This year’s “birthday supper” was especially funny to me because I was out to eat with some absolutely fantastic, energetic, faith-filled young people. The fresh generation of leaders who are dedicated to changing the world for good.  They didn’t know it was my birthday until some point during the meal.  I told them they were my party – SURPRISE!  They turned the joke on me by buying my meal and then ordering the chocolate brownie and ice cream with a candle in it and singing to me!  So sweet.  So fun.

I was just trying to not be alone and found myself wrapped up in the kindness of others.  What a great gift.

Reflective is the other side of the coin for my birthday.  More than New Year’s Day, I think of what the year has held and measure where I am compared to where I want to be.  This year held all kinds of public writing since I met the editor of 5ive for Women magazine.  I bought a house, too.  That’s kind of a big deal.  

Some things have stayed the same.  Same job, same car, same quiet lifestyle.  Time seems to go by in flashes of sun and moon and suddenly I’m another year older.

I wonder what my Grandma and Grandpa would think if they saw me now.  Would they be proud?  Would they be comfortable with where I live and who I spend my time with?  What would they think of the focus points of my days?  How would they weigh my actions in light of what they hoped for me?  

More than any other time, birthdays make me think of that kind of thing.

I also think of all the birthday events that have come before.  I don’t compare one to the other.  I lay them out and review them like pictures in a photo album.  Balloons and hugs and flowers and angels and food served in so many places.  And laughter.  Oh my goodness!  Deep, hilarious, soft, chuckling, long and short of it laughter stringing each year’s memory to the next. 

By the way, call me crazy, but God always has it snow a little on my birthday.  I can’t think of a year He has let me down.  It’s like He’s reminding me that whatever the year behind held and whatever time before will bring, He is with me.  That’s nice, too.  

I don’t know how other people see personal holidays, but as for this writer: a birthday is a gift.  As someone told me on Facebook, being older is a gift not granted to many people.  It’s the kind of gift that gets unwrapped, shared, and then tucked away to take out on rainy days.  

I liked my birthday this year.  It held so many quaint moments of generosity.  I hope I am as good to others as they are to me.  

Below zero chill outside.  Frozen stars shimmering in the black winter sky.  Blanket of snow glowing.  

Another birthday passed.  Another milestone reached.  Another day down.

That’s how this writer sees birthdays.

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To order a copy of A Book of Pages About Crossing Bridges or a Friend Named Jesus, 

please visit my website:  Writer's Pages

Facebook:  Author Kris A. Newman