She sang and danced her heart out every day after school, in the basement that served as her studio. (Basements= the original auto tune.) 8 track tapes blasted from her parents stereo. (google it, younguns…. think music recorded on something the size of a trashy paperback…really old  school Cd’s) “Delta Dawn” “I will Survive” And loads of Helen Reddy and other angsty belty 70’s music filled her repertoire. She was pretty sure that eventually she’d be discovered for the amazing talent she was… and she’d show everyone just how special she was.

The dance practice and singing went on all through high school. She graduated from 8 tracks to cassette tapes and a “Walkman.” The headphones made her sound even MORE amazing. Besides, now it was all Flashdance and Footloose….80’s music reigned. Someday she’d be: queen.

Except she couldn’t really sing. She wasn’t awful… just more -second -soprano- sing -the -harmony -you’re not really solo material- good. Her dance moves were party ready but, never going to wind up in a music video.

Still, she hoped.

“Someday, I’ll be discovered.”  She waited. She once heard the story of a famous starlet being “discovered” in a soda shop. The there were the stars discovered in music classes and on street corners….. “Someday.” Except: she was dancing in the basement. The only thing she was going to be discovered by was dust bunnies and dirty laundry.

She’s still waiting.

She’s me.

I gave up dreams of music and dance somewhere during my senior year. I just didn’t have “it.”

But, I discovered something I could do…. I could tell and write stories.

My dream shifted….”Maybe someday- I’ll be discovered- as a writer.”

I took classes. I read books. I wrote and submitted articles. I recieved lots of very nice rejection letters.

And then…. things got published. Doors opened. Speaking engagements became part of my norm. I went through (and go through) every door that opens. When I write- I feel like that dancing kid again….. I can do and be anything.

Almost. Kind of. Mostly.

Except for one thing: Be discovered.

I’ve been wondering why… I’ve been praying about it. Kind of whiney, actually. I keep seeing friends online (and off) that I’ve followed and written alongside, get book deals. (I’ve sinned- okay? I’m jealous.) I get good feedback about my writing from professionals. I’ve been encouraged to write more.

But, that’s as far as it goes. I  keep writing…. and waiting. To be discovered.

I set up a blog years ago and love writing here- however, I realize that I set up a virtual soda shop.  That I keep hoping that someday, someone would stop by and “discover” me. I keep hoping to open an email that (for once) wouldn’t be from an Ethiopian Prince wanting to gift me money. But would be from a publisher- or a literary agent. It would ask me to write a book. My book. The one in my heart. At least one of them… (I have a few brewing away.)

Here’s the thing: My longing to be “discovered” isn’t a dream. It’s insecurity veiled in a dream. The truth is- I dream of being “discovered” because I long to be: Affirmed. Chosen. Special. Gifted.

All of which, I already am. Affirmed by God. Chosen by Christ. Specially created to fulfill a purpose (My purpose) on this earth. Gifted- not (just) in writing- but in love and by love, in grace and by grace.

The truth is- I’ve already been “discovered.”  It’s time to stop dancing in the basement. It’s time to stop waiting and get to work- writing.

You have already been discovered too. You are not invisible. You are not relegated to waiting on a soda shop stool hoping to be discovered. God created YOU with a purpose to fulfill. God discovered you, long before you were born. He has chosen you. He affirms YOU. He has gifted you, in love and with love- in grace and with grace. It’s your choice how you use them.

Will you keep singing in the basement, sitting on the soda shop stool waiting to be discovered? Or, will you get to work and do what God has planned for you? This year- I want to leave the soda shop. I want to leave the basement. Because, I just discovered something…. I’ve already been discovered.

Will I ever be a “real” writer? I don’t know. But, it’s not good enough to keep dancing in the basement. No more soda shop waiting. It’s time to find out.

Maybe, I’m not the only one. What about you? Are you waiting to be discovered? Maybe your longing to be discovered is veiled insecurity too….it’s time to rip off the veil. We’ve already been chosen and discovered. Let’s get to work.

“4 But because of his great love for us, God, who is rich in mercy, 5 made us alive with Christ even when we were dead in transgressions—it is by grace you have been saved. 6 And God raised us up with Christ and seated us with him in the heavenly realms in Christ Jesus, 7 in order that in the coming ages he might show the incomparable riches of his grace, expressed in his kindness to us in Christ Jesus. 8 For it is by grace you have been saved, through faith—and this is not from yourselves, it is the gift of God— 9 not by works, so that no one can boast. 10 For we are God’s handiwork, created in Christ Jesus to do good works,which God prepared in advance for us to do.” Ephesians 2 

Dear Lord… this is either from you or from me… I haven’t got a clue- but you’re words are true regardless.  help me to overcome my insecurity- help me to stop waiting to be discovered- and help me to do the work you’re calling me to do. It’s not about dreams…. it’s about you- I love you lord and pray for courage for every one who reads….. let today be the day we take the first step- off the soda shop stool, out of the basement…. and into your light. amen

 

“Huff, puff.  Slap, slap. Huff, puff.  Slap, slap.” No, there wasn’t something dragging from the bumper of a passing car.

The sound of me, on the road this morning.  At mile: 4.

Which is when I lost my mind. I suddenly decided to try to run mile 4 (of 6) straight.

I argued with myself as I walked from mile 3.5-3.9…

Mile 3.5- “I wonder if I could run a mile straight?”  “Are you nuts?  You haven’t run a mile straight in 20 years.”  Mile 3.7 “Yeah, but I’ve been upping my intervals… and maybe I could!”  “I don’t think so. You’ll croak.”  Mile 3.9 But what if I DID it? THAT, would feel great.”  “Fine, give it a try, but if you die, don’t blame me.” Mile 4.0 “Oh, Lord”

As soon as Endomondo clicked over to mile 4… I started to run.  Not flat out- make yourself puke or break your neck…just a slow, easy pace.  After a couple hundred yards, (what I’d typically run as an interval) I thought about walking. Then I thought about knowing Id actually RUN a mile.  I kept going.

I came to a crosswalk. I crossed.  I thought about walking.  I didn’t. I ran.

I had to change playlists, I thought walking.  I didn’t, I kept running.

I made it .52 miles.  I thought about stopping.  I decided to stop looking at my mile tracker.

I cranked up U2 and tried to keep pace.  I did.

at .74 miles (I peeked:P) I looked at the road ahead.  The freeway overpass was coming up.  It was too close. Like- the top of it would be right  smack dab at about where this mile I decided to run, should end. It’s a long, high hill. It’s gravely and steep. I thought about walking.

I kept running. Toward it. I made it to the base of the hill. I peeked again. I thought “.88 miles is good.”  I can walk the hill. But it just didn’t feel quite like having “run a mile straight.”

I kept running.  I couldn’t get this close and quit.

“Huff, puff.  Slap, slap. Huff, puff.  Slap, slap.”

I’m pretty sure I looked more  like a slow-motion replay of a runner, than an actual real time runner. It doesn’t matter. When I got to the top of that overpass and my iphone announced “5 miles.” I knew I’d done it.  I was Rocky running the steps.  I was Carl Lewis or maybe more like Florence Griffith Joyner….(hey– we both have nails- don’t bring me down!) Ok– well maybe not like either one.

But, I was me. Running.  Not quitting when it got rough. But to the finish.

I did it.

This week’s theme has been confronting what I believed, were personal limitations.

I posted about taking a risk and allowing one of my book proposal ideas to be presented to a publisher.  *gulp* By someone else.  *gasp* When it isn’t perfect. *wheeze* When I wasn’t there to see or control it’s presentation. *slap* *huff* puff*.  I wasn’t sure if I could do it. I wanted to run. I wanted to back out.

I didn’t. But I wanted too.

I spent the day pretty freaked out. I wish I could say I had “perfect peace that passes all understanding.” I didn’t.  I ran scenarios in my head like a bad movie on repeat. (Think the Bear in the big Blue House Potty Video.. yeah.. that bad.)  I pictured  the publisher literally laughing at the mundane-ness and lameness of the idea… I pictured an editor a lot like Simon Cowell ripping it apart and asking “Did your friends tell you you could write?  If so, you need new friends.” I pictured the opposite.. “This is magnificent… sign this woman up, she’s got a voice that needs to be heard.  It’s fresh, relevant, reverantly irreverant, authentic and true…” I’m not sure which I was more afraid of. I was afraid I’d made the wrong decision and shouldn’t have ever answered that phone call. I was afraid I was about to be crushed like a bug.

I waited.  I didn’t hear anything.  I had the feeling that: “no news is bad news…” I ate cookies, and a peanut butter sandwich with m&m’s to console myself, and got ready for bed.

I checked my email one more time. There was something in my inbox.

It wasn’t what I’d expected. No Simon Cowell or raving review.

Ideas were presented… but not mine. I was disappointed and relieved.  I also kind of wanted to cry. It wasn’t sadness.. it was all that energy wasted in fear.

I didn’t do much the next day, to be honest.  Maybe I was wallowing.

But then, this morning.  I ran a mile. STRAIGHT.

I didn’t think  could do it, but I did.

You know what?  Sure.. the idea didn’t get presented, like I’d thought it would.  BUT.  I let it GO. I didn’t let my fear say “NO. It’s not perfect, you’re not good enough or ready.” When the mile tracker of my life gave me the opportunity to go ahead and see if I could run that mile.  I ran it. Scared and messy as it was.

I did it.

The race isn’t over. I’m not done running or writing. I’m just getting started.  I have a feeling I’m going to find out there are lots of miles that I thought would be too hard.  Lots of hills I think are too high, and lots of things I think I can’t do, I also think I will find out that I can. If I try.

And so can you.

I hope you find courage in the race before you.  I hope you go ahead and try to run that mile.. let that idea go out into the world… take that risk.

You just might find out you can, too.

I’m not settling for standing on the side lines… I want to run in this race we call life…   I’m running to win. Not running to beat you.. but to run with you. I don’t have to win… but I’m learning that I do have to run as IF to win… by giving it all I have.

Come on.  Let’s go!

Do you not know that in a race all the runners run, but only one gets the prize? Run in such a way as to get the prize. 1 Cor 9:24

Besides…I guess.. if I want to write about “A Mile In Her Shoes” I ought to do one in mine.. huh?  Well, I guess I just did:)

Just a quick post to point you to an article of mine that MOPS has published…

“Separation Anxiety is Contagious, You catch  it from your children”

I cry and giggle every time something is accepted for publication… it’s just amazing to me!

Stop by the MOPS site and give it a read!

While things have been a bit quiet on the blog– it’s been busy here.   I have been doing a lot of writing planning and submitting articles.  Which kind of  feels like being on a rollercoaster.. an acceptance for publication is the top of the hill.. a rejection is the bottom dropping out before a safe landing.  Somedays I’m white knuckled and scared to death, others I feel the wind in my face and the speed thrills my heart.  It’s all part of the ride, some parts are just more fun than others.

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A week or so ago- the new “Connections  Magazine” arrived…with an article in it by: (drumroll, please) ME!  That was a top of the hill kind of day.  I cried happy tears and celebrated with my family.   It’s one thing to have an email response saying an article’s been accepted, and another to finally see it in print.  For me?  It’s a dream come true, I’ve wanted to write, since I began my love affair with books, in elementary school.

This week has been a mixed bag on the writing front.. I’ve been sick- and while cold meds may be inspirational for science fiction- aren’t so much for my genre. (Whatever that may be!) I’ve been more or less working on organizing my notes and ideas for projects in process.  I had one article rejected- and another accepted for web-publication.  (WHEE! The rollercoaster takes a dip and a climb all in the same day!) I’ll post the link as soon as it’s up!  (Hint:  it will be on the MOPS homepage this month!)

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I’ve been snapping pics and finding beauty where ever I can… the winter can be bleak and I have to work hard to keep perspective.. the camera helps.

I picked up a beautiful bunch of tulips at the grocery.. totally worth the few dollars for the sheer joy of color. There are more pics on flickr— I’m sure my neighbor’s former suspicions about my sanity were confirmed, when I was caugtht kneeling in the snow with a vase of tulips… but the shots were worth it.. they make me smile!

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Between writing projects and homeschool projects- I’m finishing up the fundraiser project yet to be announced but often alluded to:  The Carmen cowl has been knit in several yarns including the Malabrigo worsted version shown here- (in the colorway forest)

and the Tilli Tomas Heaven Silk version shown below:
carmen col

FORGET THE PUBLISHING DESIGNING AND SICKNESS… 

THE BIG NEWS IS: THE DISHWASHER IS (CURRENTLY)WORKING!

The drama has continued, but for now, the deceased has been raised from the dead- like an electornic Lazarus. It lives. That quiet sound track to my days has been sorely missed, I’m glad its back.  However short lived it may be. (Shh don’t tell Lazarus.. but it’s going to be replaced next week!)

So.. whats new with you?

AND:  HOW LONG DOES THIS VIRUS LAST?????

YUK.  My head feels like an over-stuffed ravioli!