I'm Not Writing. Or Am I?

I've been beating myself up lately.

Don't get me wrong. Life has been good. Actually, it's been better than good. It's been fairly close to beautiful. I am doing things I love to do - creating and designing and cooking and baking and encouraging and serving. But every day, as I close my eyes to grab a precious few hours of sleep, I think "another day - gone - and no words to show for it."

I love to write. I love words and phrases, love cadence and silence all blended together. And writing isn't coming easily these days. Oh, there are notes and thoughts all jumbled together on pieces of paper, there are partially-written moments that go with partially-written recipes, and there is a children's story dancing in my brain, just waiting to be painted on a page. But right now there's no "tied-up-in-a-pretty-bow" stuff happening.

And the undone bow is playing havoc with my heart.

Some writers tell me to just write, no matter what. Some writers tell me to walk away until the colors of the leaves on this particular undone season change. And the more I read, the more I'm reminded - I'm not writing.

Or am I?

This morning, I read Psalm 71. No, David didn't write about my dilemma in that song. But he did remind me of something I've known but have forgotten. He wrote about not dying until he had shared the stories of the Lord's righteousness with the next generation, with a world that had not yet seen Him in all His glory.

My life is a book for all to read. My writing is just a snapshot of the story being lived out and shared with everyone every day.

Living words - that's what we all are. Praying those words are more rich and meaningful than anything ever written on a page.

Lifted up and thankful. A postscript on Christmas.

I explained to a friend just a few weeks ago that it feels as if I am being lifted up by the Lord right now - possibly by the scruff of the neck - as my feet continue to run in place. It's been a time of "live right now in this moment - and listen to what happens" as opposed to my "Scooby Doo" lifestyle (a play off the words "go.be.do" - and one of many nicknames my hubby uses to describe me).

What has living in this moment looked like so far? Of course, it's included food - cooking and baking for others in the midst of celebration and pain. It's included sitting in the backseat of my own car so someone else can enjoy the best view of the Christmas lights in heated seat comfort on a cold Oklahoma night. It's included redefining birthday celebrations to ensure amazing people aren't forgotten. It's included coffee with someone who won my heart before she ever knew my name. It's included finding lap blankets in just the right colors to make wrinkled faces light up. It's included weeping with a stranger who longs to adopt children abandoned and alone, and holding a friend who feels as though she's the abandonded one. It's included smiling more and laughing more and being a little more quiet. It's included praying - because there's always time to pray.

What have I heard in the midst of the moments? "You would have missed this had your feet been touching the ground."

The go.be.do. list is still full. And should the Lord allow, there are some very exciting things in store for 2010. There's much writing to do. There's a language to learn. There's design magic ready to happen. There's school to attend. There's a business to launch. There are orphans to help. There are friends to love. There's a family to cherish. And there's skydiving mixed in there somewhere. Whatever gives Him glory...

Perhaps the best quote of the season this year came from my "cup of coffee" moment. Posted on her blog, http://thesimplypeachy.com/, it cuts to the core of my heart. I'm thankful for a God who so passionately loves me. I'm thankful for a the grace of a Saviour, the hope of the Christ, the peace of our Lord. He is life in my veins.

“I’m tired of being a skeptic, I’m irritated by spiritual prudence and I feel bored and parched by empirical debate. I don’t want to hear it anymore. I couldn’t care less about evidence and proof and assurances. I just want God. I want God inside me. I want God to play in my bloodstream the way sunlight amuses itself on water." -Elizabeth Gilbert

A note to my mom.

Hi mom.

Wow, I love that word – “mom.” It’s just bursting with warmth and hugs and laughter and the smell of yummy things coming from the kitchen. That word means comfort to me even now. I love you.

I would say I hope things are going well for you, but even the thought of using the word “hope” makes me smile. Of course things are going well for you – so very well. Your beauty is more radiant than ever. I wish I could see you now, vibrant and healthy and dancing. I know you are dancing, no matter what you are doing. I close my eyes and see us moving together – to some wonderful Latin samba or the tender strains of a movie theme – and my feet feel the rhythm you passed on to me.

I try to imagine your life now. And I ponder what you are doing with that life. I can’t help but think you have graciously accepted one of two roles. You could be in the kitchen, preparing for a feast. Every ingredient would be so pure, the measures exact, and even those little “just throw it in for fun” moments would be perfect. Or you could be in the garden. Oh how you loved the smell of earth and grass and flowers! I remember walking home from school and finding you busy in the flowerbeds, planting and pruning. To think that now the sun wouldn’t burn that delicate skin and the weeds wouldn’t choke out the blooms – you could stay in those gardens all day.

Mom, what’s it like? What is it like with no more darkness, no more pain, no more sickness, no more evil or hatred or self-centeredness? What is it like to experience only happy tears? What does color look like when there’s no gray?

Gosh, I miss you. There are countless times when I just want to grab the phone and call you to tell you the latest news – “Ian is engaged!” or “I lost my job.” or “I just met my sister - mom, she looks like you!” I cling to the thought that you do see – that you are indeed part of the “great cloud of witnesses” that cheers us on as we continue to live this life. I want to believe you have seen Gina – oh, what an amazing gift she is to all of us! I want to believe you smile when you see our “Petite Assembly” gather around the table for home cooking and fellowship on Sunday nights. I want to believe you still say “isn’t Brad a wonderful husband?” to those standing next to you. And if I’m very quiet, I promise I still hear your voice sing “I love you, a bushel and a peck, a bushel and a peck and a hug around the neck…”

Mom, thank you for all you taught me. Thank you for potato soup and dances on the living room rug and how you gently stroked my hair when I was tired. Thank you for the poems you wrote and the laughter that filled every space. Thank you for calling me “beautiful” and “graceful” when I didn’t feel that way. Thank you for telling me I could do anything I set my mind to, and that you loved my strong will because I would stand for something great someday. Thank you for being unafraid to seek God – even when you were angry with Him. And most of all, thank you for the best hugs in the world.

I can’t wait to see you again. May I have the first dance?

The Ideas Swirling.

It’s no secret I love to write. And I do a lot of it –marketing stuff mostly for clients. The writing that gives me the most joy, though, is that which allows me to let my imagination take flight. Short stories, poems, blogs all make me smile. In fact, I’ve long dreamed of writing a book – though I can’t imagine anything in particular I would have to say that would be of great interest to anyone (outside of the family and friends who always cheer me on, no matter what).

Oh, there’s plenty on my mind. I think about growing up as the “golden child” in a very messed-up family, or the “terrible two’s” of pride and fear I see that keep so many people in our world trapped. I think about the absolute beauty of amazing grace, especially in those moments when I stumble the hardest. And for those who really know me, yes, I think seriously about a cookbook – but not just any cookbook. This one really would read like a good novel. There are ideas just swirling around. Perhaps I’ll one day grab one of them and run.

Lately, a lot of my writing hasn’t been the stuff of blogs or brochures. It’s been focused on other things – pieces of a journey I have been honored and humbled to walk this past year. The writing has included countless text messages and emails, content for a fundraising website, letters, recipes, lists of people and lists of things both “to do” and “not to forget.” And an obituary. For a beautiful friend.

“David M Lipscomb, 45, of Nashville, Tennessee, met his Savior in Heaven on Wednesday, February 25, 2009, after a courageous battle with pancreatic cancer. David was a loving son and husband, a nurturing father, a caring friend, a successful businessman, a fightin’ Texas Aggie, and most importantly, a passionate follower of Jesus Christ…”


The journey with David and his family has caused new ideas to swirl around in my head. I think about what constitutes “old friends” – given the depth of love felt for a family I’ve only known for a short while. I think about what defines joy – given the incredible fulfillment that comes from making sure there are plenty of Cokes and animal crackers at a funeral. I think about what true worship is – given the beauty of honoring a man who truly honored God without reservation. I think about the difference between life and being fully alive.

Now, maybe that would make a good book.

16 or 25 things.

There's a Facebook version of the infamous "copy and paste these questions, complete them, and forward them to at least __ friends" email. In the past few weeks, I have received three "tags" - two on "25 Things about Me" notes and one on "16 Things." I completed my list and published it. I thought I would post the list here, just for fun. My next list will be the "50 things I want to do before I turn 50" list. That one is certainly taking more time and prayer.


1.I don’t think there are 16, let alone 25, things worth sharing. But I’m giving it a good faith effort because I’m an insomniac achiever who can’t let go of a challenge.

2.I have to sleep with white noise. A fan is preferable, and if there’s a compressor involved it’s even better. When I was a little girl, I used to sneak and either turn the air conditioner down low or the heater up high just to keep the “noise” on. Needless to say, it didn’t impress my parents too much.

3.Social situations in which I’m not in some type of “control” make me feel extremely awkward and shy. I’ll tuck myself away somewhere or find one person to chat with – and I’ve been known to simply avoid attending gatherings entirely. But give me a purpose, and I become a social butterfly – eloquent and charming and completely comfortable.

4.I love to entertain in my home. Cooking is therapy to me. And watching others enjoy themselves with good food, drink and conversation is a gift beyond measure.

5.I am not greatly impressed by celebrity (in fact, I’ve found many “famous” people to be shallow and off-putting). I am greatly impressed by character and wisdom.

6.As a child, I had a very active imagination and loved to create things. I once made a water slide out of our entry hallway, baby-powdered my entire bedroom as part of a Halloween project, tried to bake a cake using vodka and Tabasco sauce as liquid (it exploded), and split my chin open attempting to float on a pillow pushed halfway off a bed (“I Dream of Jeannie” style).

7.Not a surprise to anyone – I love to write. But I don’t like writing on command and really dislike the fundamentals of the 5 Ws and the H (who, what, when, where, why and how, for the non-journalists). It’s not that I can’t write traditional stuff – I’ve certainly penned my share of press releases and new stories over time. But to be perfectly honest, I need to be inspired in some way. And when I am inspired, it’s difficult for the words NOT to come.

8.I really wish I could sing well. In fact, the dream job for me would be to be a “triple threat” star on Broadway. To act, sing, and dance – it makes me smile just to think about it. I’ve been told I’m a decent actor, and I’ve been in dance troupes in the past, but no one has ever asked me to sing a solo. So I’ll be content with “making a joyful noise.”

9.I thoroughly enjoy learning about other people – their history, their philosophies, their hopes and dreams and fears. And I derive a great sense of joy from helping people understand their unique worth and purpose.

10.When I say, “Nothing shocks me,” I mean it. My childhood and family life trained me well through what I saw and experienced – alcoholism and drugs, abuse, infidelity, corruption, illness, untimely deaths...

11.I was a radio star at the young age of 4. Unfortunately, it was a “one shot” deal. I was with my dad on KLPR, a country station in Oklahoma City. My parents were good friends with the owner, Jack Beasley, and he thought it would fun to have me visit. He asked me what radio station was my favorite. Another station in town had a commercial that featured a little girl saying “My mommy listens to WKY.” So, I smiled and said, “My daddy listens to WKY.” End of visit.

12.There are few things I hate. In fact, there are only two things that come to mind right now: abuse and cancer. I even have a soft spot for really horrible people, because my natural inclination is to want to understand why (see #7).

13.I miss my mom. So much.

14.I have an unnatural fear of strapping two sticks on my feet and flying at a rapid rate down a snow-covered hill. I even took lessons, did well, but hyperventilated as my instructor guided me down the mountain at the end of the day. Give me a snowmobile, however, and I’m a madwoman.

15.I ascribe human emotions to most everything. And because of that, I am a sucker for leftover holiday stuff at a store, stuffed animals that don’t look quite right, or broken things. There’s a pig in my kitchen that happily lives there now after suffering a broken leg at Z Gallerie (the salesperson said, “You do understand you can’t bring this back.” Are you kidding me? I was adopting him!). I own a stuffed animal named Fu Man Rabbit, named that because his little whiskers hang down. And this week, I almost cried at Walgreens when I saw the Christmas aisle – just thinking about all the toys and candy and wrapping paper that wanted to brighten someone’s life but didn’t get the chance.

16.I have little respect for leaders who don’t have a true servant’s heart, for “yellow-dog” anything, and for people who love to argue for argument’s sake.

17.As a little girl, I had a crush on two blondes: Johnny Quest and Cowboy Andy. One was a cartoon character and one was a character in a Dr Seuss book. I thought both boys were far better than any real boys I knew.

18.In a perfect world, I would own four houses. One for each season, so I could decorate each perfectly with just the right furniture and accoutrement. And each would be in a different part of the world, so it would receive the greatest benefits of that season.

19.I have a very strong sense of smell. And I “see” smells in imagery and colors. For example, a daycare smells like strawberry kiddy sweat to me. And our cabin in East Texas smells like barn locker. A candle I just received smells extremely blue. And my dog’s feet smell like popcorn grass.

20.I sucked my finger until I was 9. Right index finger, accompanied by a blanket with a silk edge that I rubbed with my thumb and middle finger (also right hand). I learned the startling truth that no other kids sucked their fingers while at my first slumber party. I kicked the habit cold turkey that night.

21. I attempted suicide when I was 20. I had everything a gal could want – great job, money, fun friends who loved to party – but.. So I took an overdose of nerve pills. It’s not that I wanted to die. I just wanted to see if anyone would actually notice – or care. Absolutely nothing happened. Seriously – an entire bottle of nerve pills, and nothing happened. Talk about divine intervention. I became a Christ-follower a month later.

22.I call puppies “babies” and babies “punkins.”

23.I really thought I would be living in a foreign land by now. I’m not sure where exactly, but in my mind’s eye, I see myself working with the poor and displaced in another country.

24.I apologize in advance for those I will tag in this note – and do not expect any of you to follow through with your own list (though I will most certainly read any that are published).

25.I honestly do think life should be a musical. But then again, I believe it quite possibly is after all.