tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27793008848030559102012-01-25T16:23:40.758-06:00Meditations on a Christian LifeMelodyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05300402841501883432noreply@blogger.comBlogger991100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2779300884803055910.post-57615401756008268542012-01-25T16:19:00.001-06:002012-01-25T16:23:40.768-06:00

With the busy Christmas season past, my routine is finally getting back to normal. But I am not the same person I was last year. In the space of one week, I had two different people comment on my beauty. The first was a friend of a client who happened to stop by during my meeting with her at her house. Later, my client said, "My friend reads auras, and she said you have one of the prettiest

Melodyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05300402841501883432noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2779300884803055910.post-5817794386608362292011-10-24T15:20:00.000-05:002011-10-24T15:20:37.026-05:00

The past few months have been extraordinarily busy. Traveling, attending conferences, and jump-starting my career as a home environmental consultant has left me little time to reflect quietly among the chaos of busy-ness. Not that I'm complaining about work that actually pays. God has a funny way of dumping us right in the middle of the ministry He's called us to, and when He opens the

Melodyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05300402841501883432noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2779300884803055910.post-27835548454642861852011-06-07T18:24:00.000-05:002011-06-07T18:24:00.577-05:00

The past couple months have been hard. Really hard. Truth is, I’ve been climbing the walls, beating my head against the door, clawing, screaming, bawling to God, “Where are You?” For all my efforts to get published, I’m in sort of a vaporlock now—the dreaded no-man’s land between potentially career-changing publication deal and ostensibly a whole lotta nothin’. For six months now, I’ve been

Melodyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05300402841501883432noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2779300884803055910.post-15136045766762003812011-05-14T17:54:00.000-05:002011-05-14T17:54:06.024-05:00

I’m having a hard time blogging about spiritual inspiration these days. Not because I’m not inspired or encouraged by God every day, in small ways that are only perhaps significant to me, but because I feel as though I’ve entered a time of waiting and of meditation. Sometimes keeping one’s mouth shut before God is as valuable an exercise as bearing one’s soul, casting one’s cares, unloading the

Melodyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05300402841501883432noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2779300884803055910.post-78657544779927469602011-04-01T15:41:00.000-05:002011-04-01T15:41:20.607-05:00

So my last post to this blog came almost two months ago, and it was about letting go. Much has happened since then. I lost an extended member of my family to a sudden and unexpected illness, Acute Respiratory Distress Syndrome, brought on by a seemingly innocuous cold/sinus infection that turned into a fatal case of pneumonia. I said goodbye to my faithful furry friend of many years, and the

Melodyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05300402841501883432noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2779300884803055910.post-27179375354894525572011-02-02T13:18:00.000-06:002011-02-02T13:18:10.443-06:00

The past three years have been difficult for me. Struggling with my writing career, personal crossroads, personal loss, and pretty much overhauling my relationship with God have yielded a very different “new me.” Part of the tradition of New Year’s resolutions, I suppose, is the idea that with a new year, we are given a fresh start, a chance to put the past behind us and break free of the

Melodyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05300402841501883432noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2779300884803055910.post-37958071142129808432010-12-23T14:34:00.000-06:002010-12-23T14:34:34.502-06:00

One of my colleagues wrote a blog post the other day entitled, Why Does Your Blog Suck? In the first paragraph, he divulged one standard by which people measure the success of any blog: the number of comments. I suppose I take issue with the issue of metrics as the hard and fast determiner of the success of anything, particularly from a Christian viewpoint. Popularity, maybe. But is that

Melodyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05300402841501883432noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2779300884803055910.post-74750197365406724082010-11-09T14:24:00.005-06:002010-11-09T14:24:01.131-06:00

Man’s continuing fascination with immortality is evident in today’s society. Every third TV show, novel, and movie is about vampires, invincible superheroes, demi-gods and sorcerers with special powers. But why do these ideas have lasting appeal and resonate so widely with our culture? Everyone, I believe, has a place of soul-singing—an activity that captures the essence of bliss, one in which

Melodyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05300402841501883432noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2779300884803055910.post-38003097534800781622010-11-01T15:50:00.000-05:002010-11-01T15:50:06.449-05:00

For those of you who primarily follow my writing-related entries, I've decided to consolidate those posts in another blog called Chasing the Muse. New craft-related entries will now appear over there, and this blog will continue uninterrupted.

Melodyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05300402841501883432noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2779300884803055910.post-67652946172184355722010-10-26T15:39:00.001-05:002010-10-26T15:39:44.696-05:00

I feel like I’ve been running around in circles inside my head the past few days, pondering and, admittedly, fretting about God’s will for my life. It’s easy to get caught up in one’s own grandiose notions of being called to something great by God, but when we pare down to the core of it, our heart-relationship to God rests on one thing alone: belief. Oswald Chambers once said that faith was an

Melodyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05300402841501883432noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2779300884803055910.post-6140481824757862522010-10-20T21:28:00.002-05:002010-10-20T21:35:40.531-05:00

The trip to Tulsa last weekend was wonderful, relaxing, and completely different than I had expected. Of course, I try not to have expectations about outcomes I can’t control, particularly where the sovereign will of God is concerned (and that pretty much encompasses everything), so I am constantly like a kid on Christmas morning, waiting to see what the Lord has given me each day.I realize now

Melodyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05300402841501883432noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2779300884803055910.post-46128450607367419062010-10-19T11:37:00.002-05:002010-10-19T11:43:16.374-05:00

This past weekend I spent some time with my writing friends in Tulsa. We laughed and chatted, bounced ideas off each other, and in the course of our lively discussion, the subject of rejection came up. Well, naturally. I found myself saying to my friend, “I’ve been rejected so many times, it doesn’t bother me now.” And I went happily on my way, relieved to have all the frustration of the form

Melodyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05300402841501883432noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2779300884803055910.post-20224438399018071092010-10-13T15:46:00.004-05:002010-10-13T18:13:53.202-05:00

Having just spilled my guts about my complex and perhaps irrational feelings about earthquakes, imagine my surprise when I read in the news that Oklahoma rocked out this morning to the tune of a 4.3 on the Richter scale. More worrisome was the fact that Tulsans felt the quake despite being some 90 miles away from the epicenter. Just two days before my visit to T-town on the weekend made notorious

Melodyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05300402841501883432noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2779300884803055910.post-78679533788925636362010-10-11T11:08:00.002-05:002010-10-11T11:24:55.098-05:00

Today I'm feeling pithy, so I'll cut right to the chase. Eight simple truths that inform my life:1. God loves you more than any other human being on the planet could, would, has, or ever will love you.2. The only reason you and I even know what love is, is because God loved us first.3. God has already given the best of Himself to us, as a token of His love, and yet we somehow think He owes us

Melodyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05300402841501883432noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2779300884803055910.post-18243838209430790622010-09-28T14:57:00.001-05:002010-09-28T15:01:04.080-05:00

I wrote a post recently about the need for a champion of your work if you’re writing a novel. Now let me tell you why I don’t like using “test” readers to determine the quality or readiness of my work for publication. A lot of first-time novelists give their manuscripts to friends, relatives, and colleagues to read for feedback to find out what’s working and what’s not. I did that with a few of

Melodyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05300402841501883432noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2779300884803055910.post-8455917628408415712010-09-28T14:09:00.002-05:002010-09-28T14:14:56.202-05:00

A. W. Tozer writes that men of the faith, who knew true intimacy with God, were so consumed by His love that they realized, through experience, that “God is so vastly wonderful, so utterly and completely delightful, that He can, without anything other than Himself, meet and overflow the deepest demands of our total nature, mysterious and deep as that nature is.” (Tozer, Pursuit of God). He writes

Melodyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05300402841501883432noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2779300884803055910.post-24391692692714923192010-09-24T10:26:00.001-05:002010-09-24T10:29:00.268-05:00

Writing a novel is hard. It requires years of persistence, hard work, and most of all, it requires a champion. Many of my non-writing friends blithely ask me if I’m working on another novel, as if I’m already one of those well-published commercial authors who can produce a full-length novel every year. Or they hear that I’m writing a novel and ask for a copy when it’s published, as if all

Melodyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05300402841501883432noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2779300884803055910.post-27498243263211486512010-09-13T15:09:00.001-05:002010-09-13T15:11:16.277-05:00

“Most of us allow our friends to make the most important decisions of our lives, and we are content to make the less important ones.” My pastor made this keen observation yesterday in church, and the statement resonated with a truth that has been bouncing around in my heart for several days now. Each one of us stands alone before God. We alone are privy to the individual vision that God has given

Melodyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05300402841501883432noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2779300884803055910.post-81590522340283577842010-09-06T13:36:00.009-05:002010-09-06T14:19:07.048-05:00

On the long drive back from Wyoming, where my family and I had a great vacation together, I saw a series of billboards along the side of the highway. Each had a picture of Jesus in sort of a DaVinci’s Last Supper pose beneath a glowing cross. The headline read, “I Trust You, Jesus.” And that was all. I saw three of these signs through Kansas, then one final yellow sign that read, “The Future is

Melodyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05300402841501883432noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2779300884803055910.post-25770372616796925972010-08-08T09:39:00.003-05:002010-08-08T09:46:15.465-05:00

Oswald Chambers says, “When we come up against the barriers of natural relationship, where is Jesus Christ? Most of us desert Him—‘Yes, Lord, I did hear Your call; but my mother is in the road, my wife, my self-interest, and I can go no further.‘ ‘Then,’ Jesus says, ‘you cannot be my disciple.’”Many followers of Christ know this principle to be true: abandonment of all we hold dear is necessary

Melodyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05300402841501883432noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2779300884803055910.post-19214243902853704172010-07-28T13:36:00.007-05:002010-07-28T13:54:58.064-05:00

About this time last year I wrote a post called “Serendipity” about the awesome intricacy of God’s sovereignty in allowing all things to work together for the sake of His name. Oswald Chambers tells us to go about our daily lives resting in the providence of God, and one day, when we are not expecting it, we will bump into our destiny and hear the voice of God calling us into a divine appointment

Melodyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05300402841501883432noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2779300884803055910.post-87678278366467705142010-06-20T17:00:00.002-05:002010-06-20T17:04:09.950-05:00

I realized this weekend during a reunion with an old friend that God cares so much more for people than I do. I believe, as Oswald Chambers writes, “that we must take as from God the haphazard arrangements of our lives. If we accept the Lord Jesus Christ and the domination of His lordship, we also accept that nothing happens by chance, because we know that God orders and engineers circumstances.”

Melodyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05300402841501883432noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2779300884803055910.post-49413965596290363292010-06-18T13:43:00.001-05:002010-06-18T13:45:26.767-05:00

Friendships, marriages, family ties—all of our basic human relationships—need proper care and feeding in order to survive. One thing that continues to strike me to the core is how little relationships mean to people in today’s society. Easy come, easy go: this is the motto of a supremely blithe and nonchalant culture of serial monogamy, friends-with-benefits, and friends we call only whenever we’

Melodyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05300402841501883432noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2779300884803055910.post-5920439471496911002010-06-10T17:18:00.002-05:002010-06-10T17:23:34.990-05:00

Scores of writer’s manuals and workshops try to teach aspiring writers to write every day, come rain or shine, to get them into the habit of putting words on paper, whether they feel inspired or not. I’ve tried to write under very tight deadlines—and generally, it works for nonfiction or didactic writing. Even persuasive writing, if it’s something I’m passionate about, can be squeezed and

Melodyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05300402841501883432noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2779300884803055910.post-89977909985209260622010-05-25T18:48:00.002-05:002010-05-25T18:52:20.956-05:00

Writing “true” is a scary prospect. In order to create characters that resonate and become beloved companions through generations of readers, a fiction writer must be willing to go to the deepest places of the human psyche—and reveal all. The necessity of transparency in one’s writing, I believe, comes down to the core instinct of the human soul. We can tell when someone is writing false: the

Melodyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05300402841501883432noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2779300884803055910.post-6038171631350720052010-04-28T11:23:00.001-05:002010-04-28T11:26:37.649-05:00

Loving God isn’t always easy. Sometimes it requires a supreme act of will, a conscious decision to do what you know is right, regardless of the way it feels. Love is a wonderful feeling sometimes; most often, though, it is a deliberate choice that you make every day.If I have learned nothing else over the past few years, my appraisal of myself is much closer to the truth than it was before. I am

Melodyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05300402841501883432noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2779300884803055910.post-85979667539264454242010-04-15T15:09:00.007-05:002010-04-15T15:26:06.910-05:00

One thing I’ve been struggling with the past several weeks is the idea of what compassion and Christ-like love really means. How does it manifest itself in our daily lives, in the course of our professions, and in the way we insert ourselves into other people’s lives? In what ways we do allow ourselves to buy into a subtle deception that somehow, God’s work isn’t being done or we’re failing our

Melodyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05300402841501883432noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2779300884803055910.post-92232942574501671052010-03-06T11:18:00.005-06:002010-03-06T11:35:01.322-06:00

One of my friends posted a sermon by David Wilkerson on his Facebook. The sermon was titled, “A Call to Anguish.” In it, he expresses a great disappointment in the church’s failure to truly identify with God’s heart for mankind. Do we weep over those lost friends who do not know Him, and the strangers we do not know and will never see again in the hereafter? Do we outfit ourselves in our armor of

Melodyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05300402841501883432noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2779300884803055910.post-39194742555813384032010-02-19T14:31:00.007-06:002010-02-19T15:08:43.679-06:00

Last night, I had the privilege of seeing a friend whom I admire and deeply respect. He’s single, twenty-eight years old, has a graduate degree, lives at home with his parents, and scarcely has the proverbial two dimes to rub together. Now while the last part about having no money and no place to call his own might scare off most dating prospects, if I were single, I’d think he was one of the

Melodyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05300402841501883432noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2779300884803055910.post-53252304525811804782010-02-06T09:15:00.000-06:002010-02-06T09:15:00.363-06:00

As I was thinking about all the marketing materials I need to design and prepare to start my healthy consulting business, I sat down with God and made an observation that it is difficult to hang your shingle out for business when you don’t have transportation. The other observation I made was that it was imprudent to go into people’s houses alone; however, I don’t have the resources to pay

Melodyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05300402841501883432noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2779300884803055910.post-34706849642143522332010-02-04T10:51:00.003-06:002010-02-04T11:10:28.937-06:00

I’m tired of second-guessing God about my future. We spend so much time together, just the two of us, in our own private garden, I know who He is. I know what kind of God and Father He is. I know that He chooses everything for me for a reason, because He knows the depths of my heart, every lingering hurt, all the hidden fears. He knows everything about me, more than my mother knows me, because He

Melodyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05300402841501883432noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2779300884803055910.post-5812707214500635142010-01-27T11:28:00.002-06:002010-01-27T11:37:02.153-06:00

I’m irritated, disappointed, and generally in a foul mood this morning. A winter storm threatens to ruin my plans for a cozy weekend in Tulsa with friends who are like family to me. It’s been a long time since their hectic schedule has been so clear, and I was so looking forward to hanging out and catching up with them. I’m trying not to whine to God; really, I am. But there’s part of me that

Melodyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05300402841501883432noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2779300884803055910.post-7386372219282562882010-01-25T14:38:00.000-06:002010-01-25T14:39:29.980-06:00

I’ve decided to rename my blog. It’s a decision long overdue, because for quite a while I’ve known that the blog that I’m writing isn’t really the blog I started out to write as a promotional vehicle for my career as a literary author. This blog has become much more of a personal meditation journal about my own individual conversations with Christ. I had sort of stalled out over Christmas when I

Melodyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05300402841501883432noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2779300884803055910.post-39839485554633106232010-01-18T11:24:00.000-06:002010-01-25T14:33:52.581-06:00

One thing 2009 has taught me, as if I didn’t know it already, is that I am neither invincible nor infallible. Through the endless ins and outs, ups and downs of the Christian life, we all find ourselves feeling very vulnerable, weak, and overwhelmed by the responsibility of being a good ambassador for Christ. Sometimes I wish I could just be invisible, not deal with a crisis or not have to

Melodyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05300402841501883432noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2779300884803055910.post-5629945918231326482009-12-27T13:17:00.000-06:002009-12-27T14:02:41.757-06:00

Today I’m going to a memorial service for an innocent little baby who was born into heaven. She did not have a chance to live a life on this earth---her time was indeed “but a vapor.” In this swirl of joyful celebrations and bittersweet farewells, the stuff of life becomes evident.All that we do is utterly for nothing if we do not do it in service of the only thing that remains after we are

Melodyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05300402841501883432noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2779300884803055910.post-90816828666190153332009-12-22T11:31:00.000-06:002009-12-22T11:38:25.914-06:00

The past few weeks I’ve been pondering the notion of whether a man can know true dependence upon God if he is not first thoroughly broken. I’ve seen it in the lives of others around me. Those used mightily by God also experience periods of intense suffering, which leads to a depth of understanding and wisdom beyond their years. Their God is no longer merely a lovely idea; He is a real companion,

Melodyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05300402841501883432noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2779300884803055910.post-65769616554569837702009-12-07T12:44:00.000-06:002009-12-07T14:25:54.678-06:00

I’m amazed at the number of movies and television shows today that focus on the subject of destiny versus free will. Time travel is commonplace, visions and prophecies of the future becoming mainstream, and the idea of manipulating the fate of the human race seems to have captivated the attention of our society. Just last night I saw a preview for some new television series, and the premise was

Melodyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05300402841501883432noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2779300884803055910.post-31230677611714697832009-12-01T17:34:00.000-06:002009-12-01T17:36:57.475-06:00

I haven’t written much in the past couple months because my life has been full of change. So much to write about, and so much—out of respect to the privacy of those close to me—I can’t write about. There has been much joy and happiness, much sorrow and grief, much weeping and praying and asking the Lord why…. But in the midst of the swirling winds of change and irrevocable events that shape who

Melodyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05300402841501883432noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2779300884803055910.post-7921675973704138392009-11-11T11:08:00.000-06:002009-11-11T11:37:17.305-06:00

A soldier lays down his life for his country, a good Samaritan exchanges his life for a stranger’s, a man takes a bullet for his friend, a mother gives her life for her child. Altruistic love is a concept that rings deep in the collective soul of humanity. When we see it in real life or depicted in fiction, it moves us in a way that needs no explanation. But there are times, in the midst of our

Melodyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05300402841501883432noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2779300884803055910.post-53407861285888659332009-10-27T14:06:00.000-05:002009-10-28T10:36:05.477-05:00

This morning I read a blurb about two new books coming out called How Not to Marry the Wrong Guy and The Selfishness Dilemma. Society seems to be preoccupied about how to tell if a relationship is bound for doom, presumably to avoid the pain of a broken heart. People want to decipher other people’s motivations for doing what they do, to determine if the “love” is really “love” or if it’s simply a

Melodyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05300402841501883432noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2779300884803055910.post-34005101007230709972009-10-06T12:18:00.000-05:002009-10-06T12:35:14.985-05:00

Yesterday was one of those days—the kind when everything starts out bad and gets worse as the day progresses. I was irritated, impatient, discouraged and, by the end of the day, disenchanted. My computer crashed twice and had two fainting spells (I can only explain it as occasional narcolepsy. The computer mysteriously decides to go into sleep mode when I’m in the middle of typing something very

Melodyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05300402841501883432noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2779300884803055910.post-60633353472446858112009-10-01T12:47:00.000-05:002009-10-01T12:59:20.601-05:00

Sometimes it’s oddly unsettling to realize that the dreams I have for myself are so much smaller than what God has laid out before me. The ideas of simple domesticity, a quietly blessed life, hard work and happy family—these are my dream of a fulfilling life. Lately, I’ve begun to feel a bit like Moses arguing with God in front of the burning bush. Is it possible that He has called me to

Melodyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05300402841501883432noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2779300884803055910.post-18787335053882872352009-09-29T17:44:00.001-05:002009-09-29T17:48:38.708-05:00

Another self-imposed writing deadline has come and gone, but I’m not giving up on my plans to have the finished draft of the novel completed by the end of October. Being a person of many diverse interests leads to some unpleasant side-effects. Some people believe I’m unfocused, highly distractable, or simply unreliable. Others think I’m chronically over-committed, or “trying to find myself”. Not

Melodyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05300402841501883432noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2779300884803055910.post-69164347962876846672009-09-13T13:04:00.000-05:002009-09-13T14:11:26.345-05:00

My heart is heavy today with devastating news from someone very close to me. At times like this, the world doesn’t seem to make very much sense. Everything feels gray and blank. But a deeper meditation of life yields other, wiser truths. The basis of human life is tragedy, not happiness. From the minute Adam and Eve made their choice, man has lived on the outside of Eden looking in. We are

Melodyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05300402841501883432noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2779300884803055910.post-4781725270552159082009-09-03T12:56:00.000-05:002009-09-03T13:12:56.782-05:00

Back when I was very young and idealistic, I wanted everything to happen instantaneously. I didn’t like to wait around for people to make up their minds, spend time investing in something that didn’t produce immediate results, or commit to long-haul projects. I liked to get things done as quickly as possible and move on. After all, I people to see, places to go. I had my whole life ahead of me.

Melodyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05300402841501883432noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2779300884803055910.post-33282006285915465822009-08-26T11:06:00.000-05:002009-08-26T11:13:24.299-05:00

“We may see a man who is generally disadvantaged in appearance or in education, a thoroughly commonplace man, yet a marvelous influence radiates from him. Our Lord is spoken of as ‘a root out of dry ground’—thoroughly disadvantaged. That is what Isaiah says the hero of God will be like.” --Oswald ChambersGod is an equal opportunity employer. No matter what your circumstance, your upbringing,

Melodyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05300402841501883432noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2779300884803055910.post-38195038861008189152009-08-18T11:49:00.000-05:002009-08-18T11:53:25.129-05:00

“Jesus Christ taught that a man is to be carefully careless about everything except his relationship to God. The great care of the life, Jesus says, is to make the relationship to God the one care. Most of us are careful about everything except that.” ---Oswald ChambersHow do I go about living my life with my head screwed on straight and also be a fool for Christ? The inherent tension between “

Melodyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05300402841501883432noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2779300884803055910.post-46692228452491590112009-08-10T15:00:00.000-05:002009-08-10T15:33:04.853-05:00

It’s been a year and a half since I started writing this blog, and somewhere in all the soul-searching and bouncing around, trying to find the right voice for it, I came to the conclusion that God chose me to be an instrument of His grace through my words. And after my former blogsite was mega spammed and I decided to start my blog over here, I wondered if all the people who were coming to the

Melodyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05300402841501883432noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2779300884803055910.post-73348981477088390792009-08-03T11:15:00.001-05:002009-08-03T11:21:22.678-05:00

“The truth doesn’t change; we just get better at lying.” “Most people understand the emptiness, of the hopeless emptiness of life, but it takes guts to talk about the hopelessness.” [paraphrase] ---Revolutionary RoadMy husband thought Revolutionary Road was a deeply unsatisfying love story. I thought it was a deeply realistic love story. Most people are unhappy, disillusioned with the way

Melodyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05300402841501883432noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2779300884803055910.post-90523926252940676612009-07-29T12:43:00.000-05:002009-07-29T12:46:42.421-05:00

Hey folks,For those of you coming over from the old blog, I'm working as hard as I can to make the old posts available after some technical difficulties with the old site. Hang in there, and update your RSS feeds so you won't miss new posts!Thanks for your patience!

Melodyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05300402841501883432noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2779300884803055910.post-8493300066668616622009-07-28T10:36:00.000-05:002009-07-28T10:47:33.921-05:00

I’ve been saying all along that timing is everything in life. That everything happens for a reason. That there is no such thing as coincidence. Well, a funny thing happened over the weekend…I finally met up with a fellow author whom I’d met through my first book signing, all the way back in January 2008. We’d talked about getting together and having coffee, doing the writerly thing and pondering

Melodyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05300402841501883432noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2779300884803055910.post-73327994945927866432009-07-21T23:01:00.000-05:002009-07-27T23:15:09.383-05:00

A friend once told me I was the most beautiful woman she’d ever seen. She said, “You’re beautiful, inside and out, and you don’t even know it.”Unselfconscious inner beauty is one of the most attractive things on the planet, because we know--even though it may not register immediately--we know when we’ve been in the presence of something deeper than the flash-bang of a pretty face our a beautiful

Melodyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05300402841501883432noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2779300884803055910.post-47709602086974609552009-07-05T15:02:00.000-05:002009-07-29T15:05:19.742-05:00

"As I grew into womanhood, and began to learn what was in my heart, I saw very clearly that of all things difficult to rule, none were more so than my will and affections." ---Elisabeth Elliot One of my twenty-something friends posted this quote, and it resonated deeply with me. This friend has endured both a battle with cancer and a broken marriage, all within the space of one year. When God

Melodyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05300402841501883432noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2779300884803055910.post-66923053565041825692009-06-25T00:46:00.000-05:002009-07-31T08:31:38.482-05:00

One evening last week, as my husband and I were sitting on a public bench in Coronado, California, eating ice cream from the Moo Time Creamery, he said, "You have such simple taste." He was commenting on my choice of strawberry and chocolate. No mix-ins, nuts, sprinkles, whipped cream, rocky road or triple fudge nut brownie-whatever smorgasbord-flavored ice cream. I said with a smile, I'm a

Melodyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05300402841501883432noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2779300884803055910.post-74333544667922805032009-06-19T15:05:00.000-05:002009-07-29T15:08:12.139-05:00

A few random things happened to me this week as I was preparing for my trip to San Diego. The name of someone I’d met on my last trip to SD kept popping up on my Facebook on the list of people I might know. It seemed strange, out of the ordinary. I’d thought of this person a couple of times the past year, even thought of sending him a copy of the new Diner anthology, as he’d asked for a copy of

Melodyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05300402841501883432noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2779300884803055910.post-62473306377130762009-06-15T17:31:00.000-05:002009-07-29T15:15:07.515-05:00

I visited the Torrey Pines State Preserve today, part of the California State Park system. Torrey Pines is a landmark, home of the famous golf course with breathtaking ocean vistas and the nation’s rarest species of pine tree. I wish I could bottle up the smell of the pines and take it home with me. It’s similar to the pine trees of Colorado, but with a softer finish, almost like someone has

Melodyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05300402841501883432noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2779300884803055910.post-92127862546393420342009-06-12T10:38:00.000-05:002009-07-29T16:22:05.900-05:00

As I sit in my kitchen, enjoying a beautiful summer morning, I realize that much of our lives are spent waiting. When we are children, we wait to grow up. When we are adults, we wait for the right person to marry, the right job, the big break in our careers, the arrival of new members of the family. We wait for our parents to grow old and die, we wait for our children to come back for a visit, we

Melodyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05300402841501883432noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2779300884803055910.post-52793050908983660062009-05-26T13:33:00.000-05:002009-07-29T15:26:02.044-05:00

I just returned from an interdisciplinary seminar in Florida designed to educate people about how to identify, transform, and create healthy living spaces.After spending five full days with a group of people who are passionate about creating a culture of health through prevention and awareness, I’m deeply moved by the depth and breadth of intelligence, shared wisdom, and true commitment to

Melodyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05300402841501883432noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2779300884803055910.post-28144246460949930072009-05-14T13:37:00.000-05:002009-07-29T15:43:24.965-05:00

I made a promise to God a few years ago that I would not turn away from an open door if I truly believed He had led me to it and wanted me to walk through. I’ve been thinking a lot about that promise lately, and I wonder if the doors I’ve walked through have made one iota of difference in the world. Doors come in all shapes and sizes. Mostly, I notice them as people who move in and out of my life

Melodyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05300402841501883432noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2779300884803055910.post-70936495160572505612009-05-05T15:21:00.000-05:002009-07-29T15:46:13.340-05:00

One of the deep desires of the human soul is the need for reconciliation. I’ve been working on a short story the past few days about a boy in fourth grade who loved me. In my own nine-year-old way, I loved him too, but I chose to reject him, and I never had a chance to make things right. As I’ve worked on this story, weaving a little bit of fact into a whole lot of fiction, certain things have

Melodyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05300402841501883432noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2779300884803055910.post-84454250245348149832009-05-01T10:52:00.000-05:002009-07-29T15:53:12.833-05:00

Today, I’m reeling from the news of another friend’s shattered marriage. While the natural question, “Why?” goes through my mind, I already know the answer. Sometimes there is no clear-cut “why.” All of us miss the mark, every single day, in both small and large ways. Whether it’s brushing off our quiet time with God to play another game on our iPhone or turning our back on a decade of marriage,

Melodyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05300402841501883432noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2779300884803055910.post-70136493504277509002009-04-20T19:50:00.000-05:002009-07-29T16:01:34.440-05:00

I’m headed back up to Tulsa this week for a couple of days to hang out with my writing friends. We’re planning a reunion of a writing group that spontaneously formed after a writing conference this past summer. It’s funny how things happen. Last year, I suffered through many disappointments with my writing career—projects that dried up, producers who vanished, a book tour that yielded less than

Melodyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05300402841501883432noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2779300884803055910.post-85178292945838707262009-03-30T12:01:00.000-05:002009-07-29T16:24:13.801-05:00

Last Friday was an ordinary writing day. I had just returned from mailing a story to a couple new markets and one new writing contest. My email box had two messages in it. One was from a magazine whose contest I’d completely written off because I hadn’t gotten any notification for fifteen months about it. I figured it was one of those “oh, by the way, you didn’t win” notifications that sometimes

Melodyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05300402841501883432noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2779300884803055910.post-6670107582760378602009-03-16T13:30:00.000-05:002009-07-31T08:38:01.663-05:00

Getting dumped is tough. Over the weekend, I got a form rejection slip from a major literary magazine I’d had high hopes for. Last year, both stories I sent them yielded “try again” messages. I was on cloud nine. Surely, surely this year… But nope, nada. Zilch. Zero. I guess the overwhelming sentiment is Why? Why? Why?The hard truth of the matter is, just like in this strange culture of

Melodyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05300402841501883432noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2779300884803055910.post-46346892162098819892009-03-02T12:33:00.000-06:002009-07-29T16:20:56.515-05:00

I took a short trip to Tulsa over the weekend to see a doctor who specializes in breaking up scar tissue. It was a long, beautiful drive, and pleasantly uneventful. I was alone; I welcomed the solitude. The treatment was fantastically successful. It’s a small miracle that I am a patient who elicits exclamations of joy and delight about how well I’m responding to treatment. I’ve never heard those

Melodyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05300402841501883432noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2779300884803055910.post-91539662994839489312009-02-09T16:20:00.000-06:002009-07-29T16:28:42.451-05:00

Oswald Chambers says, “Jesus does not take men and say, ‘This is the truth and if you don’t believe it you will be damned.’ He simply shows us the truth—‘I am the...truth,’ and leaves us alone....He never insists that we take His way; He simply says, ‘I am the way.’ We might as well learn to take His way at the beginning, but we won’t, we are determined on our own way...”People say the only way

Melodyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05300402841501883432noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2779300884803055910.post-7286300394400384142009-02-05T21:31:00.000-06:002009-07-29T16:32:14.041-05:00

The daylight is fading and I’ve been restless all day long. Perhaps it’s the change in weather or the fact that my allergies just won’t give me a break, or the fact that the searing, nagging pain I thought I’d left behind me for good has come back with a vengeance. The headlines I read every day make me depressed. The strangely fascinating articles I read about modern-day love and relationships

Melodyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05300402841501883432noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2779300884803055910.post-12525059724311547032009-02-03T01:17:00.000-06:002009-07-29T16:35:13.935-05:00

It’s hard to settle back down into the business of writing a fantasy novel when the whole world around me seems like it’s falling apart. Today, I received the sad news of yet another friend with cancer. Coupled with the fact that my body does not cooperate as well in the winter when the mountain cedar pollen is most virulent, there are no giggles to be found anywhere in my house.I suppose it’s

Melodyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05300402841501883432noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2779300884803055910.post-74566571324932340592009-01-31T13:28:00.000-06:002009-07-29T16:37:49.498-05:00

Earlier this week, after a delightful dinner with some friends and a late night out on a weekday, I slumped into bed, exhausted. After a few minutes of drowsy comfort, I began to worry about the construction expo I was scheduled to attend the next morning. Remnants of our ice storm still lingered on the bridges and overpasses, and driving in Dallas traffic is not very high on my list of fun

Melodyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05300402841501883432noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2779300884803055910.post-28890241139386924502009-01-21T00:08:00.000-06:002009-07-29T16:43:45.696-05:00

Some of you may have made that tell-tale gagging noise while watching a recent episode of the hit TV show Heroes when Claire Bennett, full-on close up and all dewy-skinned and glowing, says rather melodramatically, “I think I’m the catalyst.” Da-da-duh! The plot thickens. If you’ve spent any time around me or talking to me, you know that I believe everything happens for a reason. I actually don’t

Melodyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05300402841501883432noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2779300884803055910.post-40926667775039188442009-01-12T00:38:00.000-06:002009-07-29T16:47:08.669-05:00

I’ve been beating myself up the past few weeks over what a deeply flawed human being I am. I wonder if this mission, this calling I have, to make a difference in the world, really means all that much when people misunderstand and turn their heads and hearts away. Is it really worth the effort? Are people worth the effort? Is it worth the effort when it seems all I can do is make things worse when

Melodyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05300402841501883432noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2779300884803055910.post-41241515449905288272009-01-04T23:00:00.000-06:002009-07-29T16:48:32.315-05:00

Last fall, one of my good friends took me to dinner, and over several glasses of wine, proceeded to tell me some things that blew away every boundary I’d built between us. Another acquaintance earlier this spring confided in me one of the deepest desires of his heart, telling me that I just “felt safe” to him. Just a few weeks ago, a man I’d met for the first time began to tell me of his troubled

Melodyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05300402841501883432noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2779300884803055910.post-51945668464951333572009-01-02T18:05:00.000-06:002009-07-29T16:52:06.321-05:00

I finally watched Prince Caspian last night, and a few of Lucy Pevensie’s lines really caught my attention. When she first sees Aslan upon their return to Narnia, she tells her brothers and sisters. They pooh-pooh her and ask why they didn’t see Him, too. “Well, perhaps you weren’t looking for him.” Touché. When they finally return to the spot where Lucy saw the lion, her older siblings ask, “

Melodyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05300402841501883432noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2779300884803055910.post-81050973324234514942008-12-18T19:00:00.000-06:002009-07-29T16:54:13.408-05:00

This morning I was completely speechless. As many times as I’ve seen the hand of God work in my life, for some reason, it’s still magical each time I see His faithfulness prevail in my life. I’m blown away by the sovereign grace and mercy of God, and during this Christmas season, each day I find myself prostrate before the throne, overcome with emotion at the depth, relentless pursuit, and

Melodyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05300402841501883432noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2779300884803055910.post-4603518426021718812008-12-07T17:24:00.000-06:002009-07-29T17:01:16.371-05:00

This weekend, I went with my husband to a Christmas party for a bunch of surveyors. Hubby said, “Oh, it’ll be fun. This isn’t a bunch of engineers. These guys know how to have a good time.” Later, as the pre-dinner happy hour (can anyone say “open bar”?) had everyone socially lubricated, another engineer started to describe the way a surveyors’ party is different. “You know if there’s a

Melodyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05300402841501883432noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2779300884803055910.post-18716543994358143142008-12-04T13:04:00.000-06:002009-07-29T17:24:49.400-05:00

After almost three weeks away from working on my novel, I’m having a hard time getting back into the saddle. I suppose this is the reason many writing professionals and coaches adhere to the belief that writers must write every day in order to get anything done. Or only work on one project at a time. There are many pitfalls in the writer’s life---busy work and family schedules, day jobs that sap

Melodyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05300402841501883432noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2779300884803055910.post-21060615761306368272008-11-27T19:29:00.000-06:002009-07-29T17:05:51.475-05:00

Suffering through hours of holiday traffic yesterday, followed by a search for the perfect donut bed for my cat (Mom couldn’t find the one she keeps here), and a deliciously relaxed dinner with the whole family at a new wine bistro in town really put things back into perspective for me. The minutiae that cause me concern during this holiday season only serve to show me how ridiculously blessed my

Melodyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05300402841501883432noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2779300884803055910.post-4499566641220215102008-11-10T17:39:00.000-06:002009-07-29T17:08:50.399-05:00

As I sit on the plane going back home after an intensive writing workshop, I finally have some downtime to process a pieces of disappointing news. The out-of-the-blue, unexpected gift of an additional book signing for the Coach’s Midnight Diner anthology has been cancelled for the most somber of reasons: the independent bookstore has had to close its doors as a result of the economic downturn.

Melodyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05300402841501883432noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2779300884803055910.post-71572303299343675742008-11-02T19:42:00.000-06:002009-07-29T17:10:54.636-05:00

I’ve taken up yoga more seriously these days, as the winter approaches, the days get shorter and colder, and I must find ways to take myself out of the stressful existence known as everyday life. As I meditate on the poses that I’ve learned, one called the Gesture of No Fear strikes me as an interesting study on life and happiness.In this pose, you sit cross-legged with your right hand raised,

Melodyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05300402841501883432noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2779300884803055910.post-1896336440080461572008-10-27T11:18:00.000-05:002009-07-29T17:13:23.712-05:00

The story I’m about to tell you holds special resonance for me. My college pastor used to tell it often, and it remains one of my favorite word pictures.One day, an egg fell out of an eagle’s nest and rolled down a mountain onto a farm, where a hen adopted it, hatched it, and raised it as her own. The baby eagle came out of his shell and looked around and saw all his brother and sister chicks

Melodyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05300402841501883432noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2779300884803055910.post-70194134632362446542008-10-12T19:02:00.000-05:002009-07-29T17:14:37.703-05:00

Some writers can only write at certain times of the day, when their imaginations are most fertile. Others have set “office” hours during which they sit in the chair and write for a specified period of time. Still others, like me, work in creative spurts and must let an idea or decision about a character sit for a while, rolling around in their subconscious, before it springs into life as a

Melodyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05300402841501883432noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2779300884803055910.post-13979818800404647722008-10-07T16:29:00.000-05:002009-07-29T17:17:45.176-05:00

The book signing in Lockhart, Texas, over the weekend was one of the most relaxing, enjoyable author events I believe I’ll ever have the pleasure of being a part of. The folks welcomed me to their town and to their event (it was a hot ticket in the tiny little town 30 miles south of Austin), and I felt like an honored guest. The food was delicious, catered by a local culinary arts institute, and

Melodyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05300402841501883432noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2779300884803055910.post-56520240451067162782008-09-29T13:46:00.000-05:002009-07-29T17:20:19.231-05:00

Well, I’m going to do the final book signing next Saturday for the Coach’s Midnight Diner anthology and, guess what---I’m coming down with the creeping crud again. Call it the curse of the book signing. Remember last January, when I completely lost my voice ten days before my first book signing for this anthology? What an adventure in prayer that was. Needless to say, I’m wrapping myself up in

Melodyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05300402841501883432noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2779300884803055910.post-24759492720380606032008-09-23T20:27:00.000-05:002009-07-29T17:21:25.223-05:00

I just got word today that the publisher received some unexpected financial aid and the future of the anthology is looking much better now. Though the results of my upcoming book signing on October 4th may still have a negative financial effect on the publication, I feel better about being honored as a guest author.Not much else to say except God is faithful!

Melodyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05300402841501883432noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2779300884803055910.post-63879083919072810892008-09-22T14:14:00.000-05:002009-07-29T17:22:56.965-05:00

Last week was difficult for me, professionally. I discovered that my book tour for the genre anthology may actually result in the delay of publication for the second edition, slated for October 2008, due to financial difficulties caused by unexpected returns on the book. Sadly, this kind of make-or-break gamble on the part of independent small presses is the norm. In order to give their

Melodyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05300402841501883432noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2779300884803055910.post-20037568058071103222008-09-17T14:17:00.000-05:002009-07-29T17:26:29.491-05:00

I meditated on a great quote from Oswald Chambers this morning, who says that “Tenacity is more than endurance, it is endurance combined with the absolute certainty that what we are looking for is going to transpire…. If our hopes are being disappointed just now, it means that they are being purified. There is nothing noble the human mind has ever hoped for or dreamed of that will not be

Melodyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05300402841501883432noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2779300884803055910.post-61949915591066558142008-09-05T18:12:00.000-05:002009-07-29T17:28:44.478-05:00

Today I was shopping for a gift for a friend’s baby shower, feeling a little blue about some recent career developments. I stopped by the store’s do-it-yourself gift wrap section only to discover they didn’t have all the supplies I needed. I was about to leave when an elderly woman came up beside me, having just purchased a stroller, and began trying to wrap the heavy, awkward thing all by

Melodyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05300402841501883432noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2779300884803055910.post-45661883508056829532008-09-02T12:51:00.000-05:002009-07-29T17:30:30.381-05:00

I must confess my love for the 2002 surfer-girl movie, Blue Crush. I happened upon it last night on cable, and it occurred to me why I love this movie so much. First of all, it’s based on a group of real-life Maui surf girls. I don’t know much else about their true story, but I think it’s cool that it’s based on real people.Let me talk about my favorite scene in the movie. It’s at the very end,

Melodyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05300402841501883432noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2779300884803055910.post-77396999528152310792008-08-26T19:14:00.000-05:002009-07-29T17:32:17.319-05:00

One of my good friends told me a few days ago that my life was about music. Her comment startled me, especially since she and I became friends after I gave up being a musician. I asked her why she had that impression, and she said, “Because every time you talk about music, your energy changes. It becomes very soft and inviting.” I said, “But I’m a writer now.” And she said, “You’re very good at

Melodyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05300402841501883432noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2779300884803055910.post-12894389738598970872008-08-18T00:42:00.000-05:002009-07-29T17:34:30.934-05:00

Yesterday I took a nineteen-mile bike ride through a lovely wooded park. The weather was unusually cool and overcast for the middle of August, and at times, I felt a chill in the breeze. The trail was sparsely populated, again a surprise for mid-August. I saw two armadillos and one small snake. Biking through the lush, green woodlands felt like cycling through Tolkien’s Shire. I expected a hobbit

Melodyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05300402841501883432noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2779300884803055910.post-60963116793343885082008-08-08T00:41:00.000-05:002009-07-29T17:37:39.857-05:00

Those of you who read my last entry on being real know there’s more to being real than being deep or willing to share one’s noble passions in life. Being real means being vulnerable, letting people see the blemishes as well as the beauty. All of us screw up. Most of us screw something up pretty badly at one point or another in our lives. Friendships and relationships are the lifeblood of our

Melodyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05300402841501883432noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2779300884803055910.post-6160453228660503062008-07-31T12:59:00.000-05:002009-07-29T17:39:39.766-05:00

I discovered the beauty of Robert Bly’s poetry earlier this spring when I visited San Diego and was wandering through the campus bookstore at San Diego State University. As I lingered over the lines in his poem, “Loafing with Friends at Ojo Caliente,” this particular stanza stuck with me:“Sometimes ohs and ahs bring us joy. When/ You place your life inside the vowels, the music/Opens the doors to

Melodyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05300402841501883432noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2779300884803055910.post-74227875637067168892008-07-24T16:41:00.000-05:002009-07-29T17:41:41.390-05:00

Last week was a stretching, enriching experience for me. I attended a writing conference in Tulsa, Oklahoma, and was once again amazed at the wealth of talented individuals there. I met several people, made some new friends, and re-connected with old friends that even after many years are still like family to me. Sometimes, home can be anywhere you let your heart reside.One stranger (now a friend

Melodyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05300402841501883432noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2779300884803055910.post-28461812425307320082008-07-01T11:22:00.000-05:002009-07-29T17:44:08.517-05:00

Yesterday, I found out one of my friends’ father passed away last week. Today I found out one of my friends in her mid-twenties has cancer. As I sit here in the coffeehouse, trying to not weep for both of them, it makes me realize what a delicate hold we have on life. Circumstances of life can change in a heartbeat. One moment, we think we know where we’re going. The next, and the road ahead of

Melodyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05300402841501883432noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2779300884803055910.post-79869098790124918152008-06-28T13:45:00.000-05:002009-07-29T17:45:53.635-05:00

I got another rejection letter today after seven months of waiting. Invariably, the day before or the day after I send a follow-up letter, the rejection slip discreetly arrives in my mailbox. I know it’s a rejection the instant I look at the envelope. Too thin. Not even a full sheet of paper inside. When the rejection has no hand-written message on it, it’s even worse. No evidence of human

Melodyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05300402841501883432noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2779300884803055910.post-41569248661055266462008-06-23T12:34:00.000-05:002009-07-29T17:48:07.016-05:00

Well, I just got back from a writing conference in Tulsa, Oklahoma. This being the first time I’ve spent any length of time OK, I learned a few things about my neighbors to the north:1. The tap water in Tulsa tastes like dirt, but it doesn’t give me gas, which is a very good thing to know.2. People in Tulsa drive rather strangely. Meaning, some people drive slow, and some people drive fast. This,

Melodyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05300402841501883432noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2779300884803055910.post-42838877154720713352008-06-09T15:17:00.000-05:002009-07-29T17:50:09.180-05:00

The more I think about it, the more I realize God operates on a need-to-know basis. American society and our ideas of rugged individualism, self-actualization, and empowerment have taught us to believe that we should be able to control every aspect of our lives and our destinies. It teaches us to be self-reliant, as if this is the highest form of power we can achieve. You don’t have to go far to

Melodyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05300402841501883432noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2779300884803055910.post-23738194176955323542008-05-29T16:32:00.000-05:002009-07-29T17:51:32.899-05:00

It’s interesting that one of the instruments most used in healing ceremonies by many different cultures is the drum. Everything in creation operates according to a certain rhythm, even the cells in our bodies have a rhythm. The first sounds we hear is the beating of our mother’s heart, the ebb and flow of her breath. Our bodies are programmed to yearn for a rhythm; our souls stretch out for the

Melodyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05300402841501883432noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2779300884803055910.post-30443742083343456792008-05-28T01:20:00.000-05:002009-07-29T17:53:08.938-05:00

Today I didn’t check my weather forecast before leaving the house. Or rather, I thought, nah, I don’t need an umbrella or a rain jacket. It’s just cloudy. Hah. Murphy’s law at work, as always. So the skies opened up and the rain was so white and heavy I literally could not see while driving on the freeway. Thus, an unexpected (but welcome) stop at a nearby Starbucks to correct my caffeine

Melodyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05300402841501883432noreply@blogger.com