Reading and Writing Novels

I got a typewriter for my 9th birthday.

It was light brown plastic with a dark brown top, and old fashioned keys that had to be pushed down hard to make the metal lever move. There was no whirring, like my mom's electric typewriter that sat on her side of the desk in my dad's office. It was as simple as they come, but it was MINE.

And I decided that made me a writer.

That summer I would try to act grown up and lay out in the afternoon sun with my sisters, trying to get a tan and be fabulous. But in truth, I was far too antsy to lay there and do nothing. So I would haul my typewriter out onto the lawn, set it in front of me on the blanket, and begin my novel.

It was then I decided I would write short stories instead.

Because coming up with a novel at nine was hard. It took more words than I knew and more patience than I had developed. I remember thinking I couldn't wait for the day when I had something to write about.

In the interim, while I was waiting to live more life so I would have something to say, I instead immersed myself in books. Words melted on my tongue like chocolate and shivered my skin like the tart apple off our trees. Words made me feel emotions I hadn't experienced and took me places I would never travel. I had to wait to be a writer until I had something to say, but I never had to wait to be a reader.

Being a reader helped me know how to fully embrace life. Good authors are still teaching me just that.

I've been a behind-the-scenes-girl for a little while with the Bloom Book Club, and they have just announced the big move of combining Bloom into (in)courage. I'm so honored to be a part of both of these amazing groups, and the fact that they are merging into one is pretty incredible.

The first book selection for Bloom (in)courage sums up all the reasons I hauled my little plastic typewriter outside every day that summer. Ann Voskamp's One Thousand Gifts is a book that does for me now what I wanted books to do for me at nine years old.

Her writing melts on my tongue, it provides shivers of recognition and conviction... her words are ones where, after reading a sentence, you go back to read it again just to let it sink into your brain.

Jessica has called Ann anointed. I can't think of a better word for her or her writing. She makes me ready to immerse myself in a book once again.

If you want to join us [you can find the new page here], you can purchase Ann's book through the (in)courage/Dayspring site, and participate in the discussion on the Blog Frog forums. Jessica, Angie and Ann have already made videos discussing the chapters, so you'll be able to hear about the book from the voice of the author herself. It's a pretty incredible experience.

I really can't wait. And I already know her words will spark a post or two here, as she always gets me thinking. Thankfully, technology has created typewriter keys that are a lot easier to type on than the old plastic model, but I'm still sticking with short stories.

Because, apparently, novels don't get any easier to write as you get older. ;)

YOU:create ... week 21

People, I miss painting. I'm not brilliant at it, but I love doing it. And I love giving them away. And on weeks when I get my tushy up a little bit every day and piece one together, I will be giving them away to all of you. Here.

But on those weeks when my tushy isn't up [let's face it... I can't do squats and leg lifts anymore, this tushy ain't seen "up" in awhile. :)] then I figure I still need to do something creative.

That's the point of these Thursdays, isn't it? That no matter what our worlds hand us, there is still something in us. And that something needs to be fed.

It's called creativity.

And I refuse to lose mine.

So on those weeks when I don't get a canvas made, I'm just moving my Friday Five doodling giveaways to Thursdays instead. Because I still like giving away free stuff. And I still love being creative.

No matter how big or small.

This week's giveaway is a bit of a delayed bringing-in-the-new-year doodle. I find that in my scrapbooking projects throughout the year, sometimes I like to stick the date or the year on the page in creative ways.

Hopefully these little 2011 doodles will help spark a creative page or two in you. They're simple, but can be recolored, made smaller to be placed on a photo or a card, or used as an embellishment. Whatever your creative mind decides.

And I have an idea for next week's YOU:create, but it all depends on whether or not you're interested.

If you look over to the right, I put my One Word of 2011:

on my sidebar and linked it to my post on praise. I wanted a very simple, visual reminder for myself to keep my focus, and to point others to it as well.

Would you like a simple reminder of your One Word?

If you do, tell me your word in the comment section between now and next Wednesday, and I'll compile handwritten versions of your words, too. You can put it on your blog, use it in your scrapbooking for the year, tape it on your bathroom mirror, whatever works for you!

And if you're looking for "One Word" inspiration, you should check out Alece's blog where a ton - and I mean a ton - of people linked up their One Word posts. Inspirational is an understatement.

In the meantime, click the "download" button below for today's doodles.

I can’t wait to see what you guys came up with this week! Just click below and follow the instructions to link to your project. When it asks you to choose the web or a file for your thumbnail, choose web. Then it will take you to a list of the images on the page you are linking to and you’ll be able to choose a photo to represent your project.

The Chess Game

Sometimes there are moments when you make it through something and think, "Did I seriously just live through that?"

Last week was one of those moments for me.

We had tried to add another pain medication to my current regimen. We'd done that with a different med before Christmas and I wound up reacting and very sick to my stomach over the holiday, but in retrospect that just seems inconvenient. The reaction I had overnight on Tuesday was something I couldn't have imagined.

It involved literally not being able to move for hours, not being able to call for help, and when I finally could move... getting sick, hives, my skin itching and then burning, shaking and sweating and my heart pounding so hard my chest hurt for days. My voice and breathing are still wonky. It was scary and painful and I feel like I'm a very lucky girl to have come out of it.

But the major point of this isn't the story of the reaction. To me, the ramification that matters is never being able to try a new medication again. When the nurse arrived we both agreed I wouldn't make it through a reaction like this a second time, and that means the only medications I can have are the ones I'm currently on.

That's a daunting concept when you're only 37 years old and you know you have a lot of years ahead that could get a lot worse.

Although I've never been smart enough to learn how to play chess, I imagine living with this takes the same strategy. People who play the game say they are always trying to think three moves ahead to see where the game could take them.

For me, every decision, every action leads to future ramifications. We look at the fact that every new medication for my disease has caused a reaction, which have increased in severity. We know that nearly every time I've gotten very sick, like with pneumonia or Cushing's, my body has taken to attacking a food I regularly put in my system [like whey]. And the last food I reacted to [cocoa] was random and unexplained as to why it started.

The point is this: if I get sick and another reaction occurs, it could involve my body reacting to a medication already in my system instead of food. If that happens, I will have absolutely zero other options for controlling the disease or the pain. As my nurse and I were talking, my brain started to spiral thinking how high the pain would get if I ever reacted to the Imuran that helps control the disease. It swirled as I realized there would be nothing left to do about it.

My nurse then brought up the fact that it's not out of the realm of possibility that I will start rejecting more foods.

I asked her what would happen if I ran out of food options. We started on our "chess game strategy." We'd have to go to feeding tube or IV feedings. But then we remembered that I couldn't keep a PICC line in a few years ago because my body reacted to it. Which means we'd have to find another option for nutrients that didn't involve a permanent access point. But a lot of supplements would contain ingredients that I wouldn't be able to ingest.

Do you see why my head starts to spin? One move, which leads to another move, which leads to another problem, which leads to no solutions because there are no realistic Plan B's. It sounds dramatic and unlikely and like some bad Lifetime movie plot, but the truth is that it's very possible in my world. I mean, I'm the girl who can't breathe normal air.

That's when I had to stop and remember something very important.

God gives us what we need when we need it.

Not before. Not after. But during.

Let us then approach the throne of grace with confidence, so that we may receive mercy and find grace to help us in our time of need.
                                                         ~Hebrews 4:16

There are so many "what if" scenarios that could realistically happen to me. But I can't plan ahead and expect there to be solutions to problems I'm not currently facing. Because God gives us what we need when we need it.

In our time of need.

There has never once been a time in my life when I was faced with a problem that an answer didn't present itself in some form or another. And if God hasn't abandoned me in 37 years, I don't know why I think He would abandon me in the 37 yet to come.

So I'm quitting my chess game before I even learn how to play. I'm going to trust Him. And praise him. And go along for the ride.

I will not let fear have the power.

How about you? Do you trust Him more than your fears?

Gitz Bits 2011: Week 1

Alrighty, peeps... we're in it for another year!

And we started off with a... well, not a bang.

I can't say I was great about toting the camera out this week since I was so sick, but on the days I didn't take out a camera I'm going to use "filler" photos of things that happened in the past couple of weeks that I didn't have a chance to show you.

Yes, it's cheating.

But I'm ok with that. :)

Monday, January 3, 2011

Is that not the cutest little human you've ever seen?

She's my cousin Maria's daughter, Camille, and I'm in love with her. They came over for a visit and Milley [this is what she calls herself... it's pronounced mealy] and I sat in bed and toasted each other with french fries.

It's my new favorite thing to do.

I may have mentioned 483 times that night that my Dad would have taken her, stolen her, kissed her to pieces and entertained her for hours on end. And in his absence, I am more than willing to step in and do that job.

Adorable.

Tuesday, January 4, 2011

Random photo, I know, but my phone has been driving me crazy. They updated the voicemail system, and now all the numbers that did certain things no longer do those certain things. So when I go to delete a voicemail it is, instead, repeating it. And I repeat this function many times a day.

FYI: since this Gitz Bits thing is supposed to show my real life, I didn't clean the make up off the keypad before taking the picture.

But I thought about it. :)

Wednesday, January 5, 2011

It was Tuesday night into Wednesday that I had the bad medication reaction, so this is a "filler" photo that I've been wanting to show you anyway. The day before Christmas Eve, this group of hoodlums showed up in my parking lot, called me on the cell, put me on speaker phone and sang "We Wish You a Merry Christmas."

How fun is that?!?!?!?

Thursday, January 6, 2011

Riley was so crazy good during the scary experience that I am putting up a filler photo of him in appreciation.

That, and he's just a cute filler.

Friday, January 7, 2011

I cooked!

Ok, I didn't really cook. But I totally stirred. With a spoon. It's like I'm a MacGyver of the kitchen or something.

One of the biggest bummers of being allergic to so many good foods is that I'm restricted in my dipping options. And I'm a dipper. I miss ranch dressing almost as much as I miss cheese.

And I miss cheese. A lot.

All ranch dressing packets contain whey, but I discovered that french onion dip packets don't. Of course, I can't mix them with sour cream and everything else it says you can put the dry mix in, so I experimented and mixed the french onion packet of powder in Miracle Whip.

Turns out, it's DELICIOUS. And now I'm eating all of Riley's carrots.

Because I am, once again, a dipper.

Saturday, January 8, 2011

Someone in the house, whose name begins with R and ends in iley, hasn't learned to pick up his toys.

Sunday, January 9, 2011

And this is our Sunday photo. He looks like a ragamuffin, and I feel like a ragamuffin these days, so I thought it was fitting. Also, Sunday was the six month mark of losing Dad and I think this disheveled look on Riley is the way my heart feels about it.

It feels like six years since I've seen him, you could convince me it just happened six days ago, and somehow I still think it's impossible that it happened at all. Yet, somehow, we've kept living, kept breathing without him.

By grace alone.

Thanks for once again sharing my week with me! Click on the button below if you want to go to Jessica’s site and check out the other participants showing off their weekly photos as well:

Steppin' on a Soapbox

I should probably know better than to step on a soapbox when I feel as lousy as I do. But this always seems to happen when I'm feeling this vulnerable, and that makes me think it's exactly the time to speak a few words.

I want these words written somewhere so I can just direct people to it, rather than repeat myself at a time when my energy is low.

It happened when Cushing's was at its worst. It happened after my first post explaining my circumstances over at (in)courage. It happens nearly every time I admit that my body is sicker, whether with infection or added pain or vicious reactions.

People start with the emails telling me about their God vs. mine.

And it makes me sad.

Because I don't believe God ever wants to be used as a weapon.

I get emails telling me that:

"MY GOD wants you to be healed. You simply need to believe and let Him."

"If you believed in MY GOD, then you would have the faith required to be well in His eyes."

"MY GOD wants the best for His people. Not what you are living in now. Email me. I will help you to believe in MY GOD who delivers His people."

Here's what I want to say. There is only one God. And He is not mine. On the contrary, I am His. I go to Him with my wants and needs and dreams and desires, and then I surrender. Because I am His to do with whatever He sees fit. I will ask for no conditions on my life. I will only ask that He helps me open my eyes so I don't miss the purpose He has for me.

It's that simple.

Do I like the way I feel right now? No. Do I enjoy how my life has progressed? No. Would I tell God that He's wrong? No.

The other line in a recent email said, "MY GOD can make you whole."

I would like to believe that in God's eyes, I am whole. It's our human eyes that have the problem.

And I trust Him enough to believe His vision is perfect.

*stepping off the soapbox now*

YOU:create ... week 20

Hi, friends.

I'm sure I'll tell you more about this at a later date [because, let's face it, I tell you pretty much everything] but on Tuesday night we added a new pain med to my regimen. To say that I had a severe reaction would be an understatement.

Basically, every reaction symptom I've ever had in my lifetime I had all at the same time, plus a few other scary ones that I didn't know existed. Needless to say, it was a frightening experience and I'm still experiencing/trying to recover from some of the symptoms.

Anyway, I obviously have nothing creative to post today, but I was determined to get into a routine here on the blog again this week. In that effort, I'm going to put up the YOU:create link for all of you who didn't have medication reactions and actually got creative. ;)

Feel free to link up, and next week we'll be back with canvas giveaways. I had one started for this week, but all this hit before I could get the lettering finished... so next week it is!

I can’t wait to see what you guys came up with this week! Just click below and follow the instructions to link to your project. When it asks you to choose the web or a file for your thumbnail, choose web. Then it will take you to a list of the images on the page you are linking to and you’ll be able to choose a photo to represent your project.

Making Room

What is it about us that instinctively wants not to cry?

We think it's weak. We think it means we aren't strong enough to persevere. We're afraid other people will feel sorry for us. That they won't take us seriously. That it is a reflection of our personal insufficiencies.

And sometimes, we're afraid that once we start... we'll never stop.

I've thought about writing about this topic for awhile, and in the past three days I've said the following statement to two different people:

"Some tears are good tears. Good tears are necessary. I'm learning to let them fall to make room for the peace."

In the past month, I've told three different people in three different circumstances that I'm wondering if sometimes we're not supposed to "get over it." That sometimes we're not supposed to shake that feeling in the pit of our stomach.

That sometimes we're supposed to dive right in it.

Maybe, in the middle of the storms... in the pit of our stomach that holds a heavy rock of fear or dread or sadness... we're not supposed to ignore it and run from it and "fake it 'til we make it."

Maybe that pit in our stomach is right where God is.

Maybe He's there, waiting for us to show up and face it so He can help us through it.

Maybe He's waiting for us to acknowledge the pit in our stomach and let the tears fall so we can make room for the peace He's holding in His hands.

Just for us.

I've said before that you can't fix what isn't broken. If that's true, why are we so afraid to be broken? Why is it hard for me to look into my best friend's eyes for fear I'll fall apart? Why are we keeping ourselves broken and full of tears?

There is a part in a Selah song, Unredeemed, that says: "Life breaks and falls apart, but we know these are the places where grace is soon to be so amazing. They may be unfulfilled, they may be unrestored, but when anything that's shattered is laid before the Lord – just watch and see – it will not be unredeemed."

That's how I am going to look at the tears. The place that feels broken. They aren't weak or something to be afraid of... they are just the places where grace is soon to be so amazing.

I'm learning to let them fall to make room for the peace.