God’s love and human ability. They don’t seem linked, do they? When I used to feel frustration at my inability to perceive God’s love, never did my own strength—or lack thereof—factor into my thinking.
Wow, has God been showing me a lot about strength. And weakness. Physical, spiritual, mental…
So, a little backstory:
I’ve not acquired the nickname Helga sarcastically. Though I was the youngest child and only daughter, my family never showed special treatment when it came to splitting firewood, hauling rocks, building, or helping my dad with his handyman jobs. In fact, I wouldn’t let anyone treat me as weaker. When necessary, I did my best to keep up with my dad and brother as we worked on our ranch and tamed a small wilderness. It was exhausting, but I would have been disappointed in myself if I couldn’t perform. Continue reading →
Image courtesy of atibodyphoto at FreeDigitalPhotos.net
I’ve tried to write this post so many times. Like, a record number. Perhaps some reasons are:
1) When I look at this past month, some pretty big things have happened. Some on the surface, but most of them down deep. God’s up to something, and the waters are churning. It’s almost hard to focus on any one thing to write about.
2) This is going to be a series and first, non-intro pieces need to be a certain way, or so my perfectionist nature is telling me. But I don’t entirely know how I’ll be going about all this, so I’m just canon-balling in and maybe I’ll learn to dive later. Maybe. Continue reading →
I’m embarking on a new adventure. God willing, I’ll never be the same.
And you’re invited.
What is it? Well, the good news is this adventure doesn’t involve death-defying acts or a big budget. The bad news is I have no idea how this is going to work. But that’s what makes it an adventure, right?
There are few Bible personalities I really connect with. You know: Ruth was so good, and Esther was fearless and beautiful, and Mary was amazing. Paul is hard for me to get my head around, and the disciples, well, they were interesting and funny, but relatable? Well, maybe not so much.
But start talking about Jonah, and I’m right there with you. Somewhere amidst that moody, intense, prophet nature, I sense a personality at war with itself. He knew what was right, but he also knew himself. Maybe even doubted himself. And feared failure. And likely even feared success. Continue reading →
Okay, I can’t believe 2015 is so advanced that I’m even saying those words, but what a year it’s been. I know sometime between Christmas and New Years, I along with everyone else will look over my shoulder at this wild, crazy, wonderful year. I think I’ll shake my head—in both amazement and “who knew-ment”—and then I’ll smile. I hope your year in review evokes a smile too.
Speaking of review, I’d like to say thank you to everyone who’s been a faithful reader this year. My hope has always been that, in sharing what is on my heart, I can encourage you, and so many times you have encouraged me with your comments, shares, likes, etc. Thanks for being a part of this wild year and this blog.
If you’re curious, here’s an overview of the top posts of 2015. As you can see, it was a mash-up of a topics! Continue reading →
It was the sort of question I hated. I took a sip of my latte as I formulated an answer. What would I like to be doing two years from now? Hmm.
The person across the table asking the question meant well. Perhaps the opportunity she wanted to lay out would be something I’d like to jump on board with. She waited patiently as I chewed my lip, unsure how to make what was in my heart sound logical—or at least more than a wild fancy.
I mean, I’m just a dreamer. Deep down, in those ten seconds as I tried to imagine not what I thought I would be but what I could be if I had my druthers, I knew I would always be a writer—was one regardless. But I also saw another dream I hadn’t discovered until earlier that year. Continue reading →
Last month was weird. Wild weird. Good weird. The weird I love.
Why? It was writers conference time.
Brandilyn Collins addressing conferees: “Upstairs, there be normals.”
Ah, the time word scribblers from across the country converge to spend three tumultuous days swarming around a crazy-carpeted venue, wearing our most professional clothes and most uncomfortable shoes. When we stain our hands scribbling notes in classes, workshops, and sessions. When we buzz on four hours or less of sleep. When we shakily tell agents and editors about the manuscripts we’ve poured blood, sweat, and years into. When we overtake a hotel and consider everyone with a name tag a kindred spirit, regardless of whether they write suspense or romance. Continue reading →