I crawled out of bed early this morning. Not by choice, of course. My covers were warm, and after spending three nights on a rickety pull out couch in a hotel, I wanted to stay nestled on my cottony mattress forever.
Forever and ever.
But the seven year old had nightmares, and just as I drifted back to sleep the baby woke up demanding food, and it became apparent that more sleep was a luxury I would not be afforded.
So I made my way to the coffee pot, and now I sit here in front of my computer. It’s so quiet, and it’s still dark outside. It feels like the entire world is still. As much as I wanted a couple more hours of sleep, I must confess – this is my happy place.
This is the place where the Lord meets me – where He whispers peace in my always swirling heart.
This is the place when words wash over me, and sometimes they even flow out of me.
This is the place where I chase my goals – where I chip away at a dream just a little bit more.
There are a lot of stories out there of people who find success almost by accident. They were blogging for fun, or to get through a difficult time, and they were noticed and suddenly there was a book deal that they never asked for!
It seems like my Facebook feed has been filled with such stories lately, and they’re good stories. I like to read them. And yet…
There’s a part of me that wonders if maybe I’ve just wanted this too much. Maybe if I just quit wanting it so bad, then the publishing contracts would roll in. Because aren’t accidental success stories so fun to read?
“I didn’t want this. I wasn’t looking for it or pursuing it!” People say these things and I smile because I’m excited for them. But also, my heart cringes a little because I do want this. It’s why I’m working so hard.
This is why the quiet spaces are so important, because it’s here in the quiet when I’m reminded that the toil is a gift, and the wanting is okay.
“He has made everything appropriate in its time. He has also set eternity in their heart, yet so that man will not find out the work which God has done from the beginning even to the end. I know that there is nothing better for them than to rejoice and to do good in one’s lifetime; moreover, that every man who eats and drinks sees good in all his labor—it is the gift of God.” Ecclesiastes 3:11-13
There is good to be found in the discipline of rising early to toil away at your goals and dreams. In the quiet dark, while the house is still, your hands move and your heart sings because this is your time. This is the gift.
Friends, the message is simply this: The time spent working and laboring, creeping your way toward a goal, is a good thing. You do not labor in vain, and the difficulty is a gift.
It’s okay to dream, and it’s okay to chase those dreams. Your story isn’t diminished by years of toil. Though it sounds romantic and poetic to somehow accidentally stumble into success, the truth is there is so much beauty in the toil.
Are you working toward a goal? Do you feel like you’re laboring in vain? I assure you, you’re not. It’s okay to want to see the fruition of your hard work. It’s okay to chase after your dream, whatever that may look like for you. It’s okay to want it.
I watched her through the glass, her tiny, muscular body swinging and pushing through yet another bar routine. It’s not often that I have the opportunity to sit and just watch these days. Life is busy and the demands are high, so watching is a luxury.
She’s nine now, and for six years Lee and I have been in constant conversation about her participation in this sport. Is this the right thing? Is it too much? Is it too hard on her body?
On more than one occasion, I’ve wondered if we should pull back. Maybe it would be better if she just did it for fun. Then I laugh.
My competitive daughter would not understand the meaning of doing something for fun. If you’re not there to win, what’s the point?
As I watched her yesterday, she made eye contact with me and I knew that something was bothering her. I could tell on her face so I mouthed, “What’s wrong?”
She pointed to her head. “I have a headache,” she said.
We looked at each other for a moment, and I was immediately ready to take her out and bring her home, because I understand headaches, and the thought of her practicing for three more hours with a pounding head made my mom-heart hurt.
As if reading my thoughts, she shook her head slightly. “I’m okay,” she said. Then she wiped her eyes, took a deep breath, and jumped back up on the bars.
I am constantly amazed at my daughter’s tenacity. She’s driven by an inner force that I admire, and as I watch, I’m learning. I’m becoming a student of my child. While I know and recognize her weaknesses, and I’m constantly working to help her overcome them, I also see her strengths.
I see her willingness to push through pain in order to become better. I see her dedication, and the way she works without complaining. I see her set goals, and then not let anything get in her way as she works to accomplish them.
My daughter is a dream chaser.She sees obstacles, and she doesn’t stop to wonder if it’s possible to reach her goal. She simply believes that she can. And if it’s hard, or maybe a little scary? Well, that’s all the more reason to try as far as she’s concerned.
Dream chasing is natural to kids. I don’t know what age the belief that dreams can come true begins to darken into the more realistic approach of adulthood, but I wonder at what my influence could possibly do to my kids’ willingness to chase their dreams. Am I giving them the confidence to keep chasing, or do I hold them back, forcing them to face reality?
Of course, reality must be faced at some point. I do NOT think that point is nine years old. If Tia wants to shoot for the Olympics right now, then she has my full support. If, at 16, she still thinks she can make it and it’s apparent that the Olympics aren’t in her future, I’ll work that out with her then.
I refuse to be a dream crusher, but I also don’t want to be a false encourager.
Because let’s face it – we’ve all seen American Idol, and we’ve wondered why someone didn’t have the guts to tell some of those kids that they couldn’t sing before they went on TV and made fools of themselves.
It’s a tricky business, navigating the waters of dream chasing with our kids. We want their success, and yet we also want to protect them from disappointment. And we must always make sure that we are not projecting our own dreams for our children onto them unfairly.
And so, as my daughter chases her dreams, and her brother’s each chase dreams of their own, I sit back and I watch. I admire their courage, and I applaud their hard work. Then I sit down and look at the goals I have written out for myself. The more realistic, grown up dreams of the present that are entirely possible with a little hard work and dedication.
Dream chasing, you see, isn’t just child’s play.
In light of this topic, I’m excited to announce that I’m joining the writing team over at God-Sized Dreams. It’s time to stop talking about what we want to do with our lives, and start doing something about it. So if you’re a dream chaser, or if you’re looking to rekindle the magic of an old dream you’d long since given up, please join me and the other ladies as we chase the dreams that are placed on our hearts.
His voice reached through the phone pressed to my ear and I took a breath to give the expected response, then stopped. Tears pricked the corners of my eyes, and I felt the wind sort of escape in a small sigh.
“I don’t know,” I said, voice trembling slightly.
A month ago, I signed my first contract with a literary agent. For over a decade, I have been trying, without success, to secure a literary agent. It is a very big step toward my dream of publication – this is what I’ve been waiting for, what I’ve wanted to do since I was a teenager.
I should be excited.
I am excited.
But I’ve lost momentum.
When I began blogging seven years ago, I had no idea where that journey would take me. Very early on I came across one of the Compassion Blogging trips, and as I read through those posts I felt a deep longing for my words to matter. As much as I loved chronicling the humorous moments of mom-life, I knew I wanted my site to become more.
I would walk through a year of grieving and heartache, and I couldn’t find my footing in the blogosphere anymore. I had accomplished my goal, and while writing has always been an outlet, at that point in time I found more solace in working on my novel, because blogging began to feel too painful. I was so very raw in those days, and I felt exposed online.
It’s been such a journey these last two and a half years. And now here I am, on the cusp of seeing another dream realized, and I find myself wildly overwhelmed.
If it weren’t for my husband, I think I would have given up a long time ago, because this process of doing what I love hasn’t been easy. Success, however you may measure it, hasn’t fallen in my lap. I’ve worked for it – I’ve worked really hard, and I have a stack of rejection letters to prove that what I do isn’t for the faint of heart.
Maybe I shouldn’t have kept the rejection letters. Maybe the folder full of “No” is a little bit of a downer, but it does make the “Yes” a little sweeter. And inside that folder full of “No” are little glimmers of hope. Editors who took the time to write me a personal note on their typical form letter response.
“Love the concept, and the writing is beautiful, but it’s not a good fit for us.”
“Keep working on this. You have the beginnings of something really special, but it’s not there yet.”
When I got those notes, I placed them on top of the stack of rejections to remind myself that I really can do this writing thing. Because the truth is, when you fight for something for so long, and you are constantly pushed backward, you start to question whether or not you’re cut out for this gig.
But now, there is someone else out there who believes in me. An agent who believes me capable of telling the stories I long to tell. I have a writing partner who, like my husband, has always been my cheerleader, and she’s right beside me in this new journey. She’s helping shape a message that the Lord placed on both of our hearts so many years ago.
I’m overwhelmed by it all. This is where the real work starts, and there’s a small part of me that is just scared. I’m afraid to get too excited. I’m intimidated by the need to gain blogging momentum again – to rebuild a platform in an already saturated market.
And that ever present nag that tells me I might not be good enough to pull this off likes to prick at my ears in the quiet moments when I’m most vulnerable.
Dream chasing is hard. It will always involve rejection. There are so many “No’s” that make up a “Yes.” And we’re all prone to look to our left and our right, and to see the people who are doing the things we want to do and assume that the success just fell in their laps. But 9 times out of 10, that’s not the case.
They worked hard for it, too.
If you’re chasing a dream right now, and you feel overwhelmed by it all, can I urge you not to give up? Don’t look at the “No’s” as a finality, but as the stacking point for the great big “Yes” waiting in the wings.
Maybe it won’t look like you thought it would, and maybe it will be more work than you assumed, but at the end of the day your dream matters, and the tenacity with which you’re willing to run after it will be the tipping point between excellence and mediocrity.
A few months ago, Tia and I discussed what she’d like for her birthday. She’s growing increasingly more difficult to give gifts because she is entering that awkward stage between little kid and teenager and, truth be told, she’s never been much of a toy kid anyway.
I hate spending money on gifts that they don’t really love, so I tossed out the option of redoing her room as a birthday present and she immediately said “Yes!”
Then I died a little inside because me and decorating are not the most compatible of companions.
The “T” above her bed isn’t crooked. It’s just the way I took the photo. Because I’m awesome like that.
A few days before her birthday, I realized that if we were going to remake her room I had better get on the ball. So I bought a couple of cans of paint, called in reinforcements (thanks, Jenni!), and the transformation began.
The wall color is Benjamin Moore “Jack Frost” and it is my very favorite of all the colors. I’d paint the whole house this color if Lee would let me.
I let Tia sit down and surf Pinterest, then we created her own board so that I could get a feel for what she would like. I hoped to create a space that inspired her since this is the child who is much more prone to realism than imagination. I wanted her room to be a place that she could escape and enjoy. And I wanted her to be able to grow into the space rather than grow out of it again in a couple of years.
The magnetic boards were another IKEA find and she loves that she can decorate the wall herself by moving pictures and cards and magnets around.
I could not be more pleased with how her room came together. She has a small space, so I really tried to utilize it well. I put a small dresser in her closet, and I got rid of all the clothes she doesn’t wear, which left her with fewer clothes and more space.
I’m totally fine with that.
Makes you want to curl up with a good book, right?
I made this little canopy tent all by myself (ALL BY MYSELF!! ME! I DID IT!), and it cost me less than $25. Here’s the tutorial if you want to make one. It’s embarrassing how easy it is. I probably shouldn’t be as proud of myself as I am, but I can’t help it. I’m not a DIY girl.
Tia loves her room, from the IKEA bookshelves, to the reading corner, to her antique vanity that her grandparents gave her for her birthday. The room is calming and sweet, and I do think that it will leave her inspired to dream a little more. It has now officially become my favorite place in the house. Sometimes when she’s at school I go in there to read.
Don’t tell her I said that.
When the whole room was finally finished and put back together, she walked in and her eyes grew wide. “Wow,” she cried. “I love it! It’s so pretty I just want to keep it clean all the time.”
If that happens, then this just might become the miracle room. I’ll keep you posted…
Do you remember being in awe of nature as a child? Did you ever sit beneathe a black-blue sky dotted with a milliion stars and gasp at the wonder of it all? Did you marvel at a sunset or watch the clouds float by in an array of shapes.
An alligator! An elephant! A one-legged dog!
I remember specifically being around nine or ten years old and we had gone on a camping trip to some Jellystone Park in somewhere Wisconsin. While my parents worked hard to crank open the pop up camper, my brother and I romped in the wooded fields around us as the sun sank lower beyond the trees. And then we both stopped and gasped.
The glow of the moon lifted above the treeline before the moon itself appeared. It was huge and orange and seemed to hover just above the ground, willing us to reach out and touch. I wanted to step forward and cross the expanse of sky to enter the golden, shimmery world that seemed to be just steps away.
As a roaring fire cackled and we prepared to bunk down for the night, I stole continual glances at the moon, which continued to rise up above the Earth, the orange hue fading and morphing into a brilliant white. A diamond in the sky.
I remember the magic of that moment, and it’s not the only time the moon’s nearness has stopped me in my tracks. I love those nights when the moon hovers just above the earth and gives us a closer glimpse of the light that God placed in the night sky.
This month has been a hard one. I’ve felt so small and insignificant, so very far away from all of life. I haven’t even had time to stop and observe the moon, to see if she hovered nearby. There haven’t been moments to pause, to try to grasp the weight of everything happening around me.
Tomorrow I am putting “K” on a plane. I will tell her goodbye, then make my way home from Atlanta where I had to drop her off. For seven hours I’ll be alone in the car. Will that be the time to try and take in this whirlwind of a month – this time when everything changed permanently?
Maybe. I’ll try. But mostly I feel numb right now, so there is a part of me that wants to just put on the ’90’s station and sing it out. A little Mariah Carey, Allan’s Morisette, Boyz II Men, and Goo Goo Dolls could be just what the doctor ordered. And yet…
I know at some point I’m going to have to really dig into where I’ve been this month. It’s been a doozy, and as I continue to feel the sadness, I also feel joy and excitement. I’m looking forward to this year with great expectation, despite the fact that it begins with great disappointment.
So tomorrow I will drive through the day, and as I roll into town, the moon should be ascending to her perch in the sky. And I’ll be looking for her, reminding myself that as the world continues to spin and another day comes to a close, there are so many things for which to be thankful.
I’ll remember, and I’ll feel the sadness and the joy, and I’ll let both emotions find a place inside my heart.
And maybe, if I’m lucky, I’ll get to touch the moon.
I did a little counting last week and realized that we are down to days until baby girl arrives. It kind of freaked me out a little. In 3-4 weeks, she will be here.
Here.
In my arms.
And I will be able to breathe again, to tie my shoes, reach down and pick something up off the floor without feeling like I might die, and comfortably sit in a chair without feeling like a stuffed turkey.
Somebody say amen!
Last week, my mom sent me a text: “Would you like to get away for a night? I can get you a hotel room right on the beach for cheap if you think you’d be interested.”
It’s like she doesn’t know me at all. OF COURSE I’M INTERESTED!
I called Lee and asked if he’d mind, and he didn’t mind at all. It may have something to do with the wild, crazy, I’mGonnaLoseIt look I’ve had in my eye for the last several weeks. Not sure. At any rate, he gave his blessing, mom made the reservation, and today I sat poolside with a sweet tea, the sound the the ocean crashing in, and all I could think was “Man, I can’t wait to start writing again.”
For me, getting away is always a catalyst for creativity. While some people like to unplug completely when they get away, I find myself more and more itchy to get back to the keyboard. It’s as though my fingertips were just waiting for my brain to freaking catch up.
A few hours of sunshine this afternoon left me feeling relaxed and clear-headed. A sunset stroll on the beach will add to that, as will a full night’s sleep and the facial that my mom (bless her sweet soul) set up for me tomorrow morning.
I can’t wait to get back to creating, to preparing for baby, to being with my family. It’s amazing what 24 hours away can do for one’s soul. It’s not something I get to do often, but when I do I make sure to relish every moment. The quiet, still moments away when life affords me the time to think. Just me and my thoughts, and few seagulls thrown in for good measure.
Dear creative friends – can I urge you to take some time to get away? You may not have the opportunity to leave for days at a time, but even a few hours alone, away from the hustle of every day life, can awaken your creative soul. Go to where your mind can be freed from the confines of constant decision making, and let yourself drift.
And when the creativity strikes, relish the moment. Soak it in. Abandon yourself to it, then go back home to your family refreshed, renewed and rejuvenated.
This is the joy of living the life of a creative. It’s the ebb and flow of our days, the stolen moments when dreaming means relaxing, which leads to dreaming and creating. And the loving our families when we go back home.
