Here's Your Sign

Ever have someone tell you, “Here’s your sign,”? Coined by comedian Bill Engvall, this is not a term of endearment. On the contrary, it’s used to point out an individual’s stupidity - or in the most gentle of cases, to point out an obvious or dumb remark.

I paint my kitchen lime green and display it proudly. A visitor asks me if I like that color. Um, no, I chose a color I hated so I could cringe on a daily basis. Of course I like it - that's why I chose it. "Here's your sign."

Let your mind wander. I’m sure you can think of plenty of instances where you could have used that phrase on someone else. Or...maybe you deserved to be given your own sign. I think we all probably need our own stash of signs to keep on hand for those rare moments when our brain and mouth fail to communicate properly.

Then there’s the types of “signs” that aren’t so literal. The types of signals we look for every day to help us determine actions or choices. Often times we ask God for these signs as we hunt for answers in a very muddled and mixed-up world. And sometimes...we wait too long. We are so intent on finding that one particular sign that we fail to move. We sit and ponder and watch and wait, when maybe we just need to get off our duff and do something. Obviously, this doesn’t apply to every situation. There are times we need to sit and wait until a certain path is made clear. But there are also times when we just need to make a decision and move. There are times when certain decisions may not make or break our futures, let alone affect the universe as a whole. Therefore...

As long as you don’t think it’s going to send the universe as we know it into upheaval, and as long as you’re confident you’re not destroying your future or someone else’s future as a whole, it may be time to get off your duff and move. Only you know if the time is right. But just in case all you needed was a sign, there it is.


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Tenacity at its Finest

Tenacious. Sometimes I prefer that word to "stubborn" even though they can be synonymous. Tenacious just has a different kind of ring to it. And even though its very much like stubbornness, for some reason, tenacity has always had a different feel to me. I visualize a bulldog who has latched on to something. With his jaw locked in place and his teeth sunk into the object (whether it be a bone or someone's arm), he refuses to let go. Rather than simple stubbornness, there is endurance involved. Resolve. Stamina. 

I've been called stubborn more than once in my lifetime. Actually, it's happened an embarrassingly high number of times. And rightly so. I am admittedly a very stubborn individual. Once I've made up my mind, it's quite difficult getting me to change directions. But synonyms for stubborn include things like "pig-headed" or "difficult." I prefer to think of myself as tenacious - "steadfast" and "resolute." 

It's all semantics, really. Generally, when someone calls me stubborn (at least since I've been an adult), it has been meant as a compliment. Or, at the very least, not an insult. (Did you know the American Sign Language sign for "stubborn" is similar to the sign for "donkey"? A rather humorous tidbit there.) I feel very strongly about certain things, and while I'm willing to compromise on many occasions, rarely is my mind actually changed. Stubborn? Tenacious? Either way, I stand firm. 

One could view this as a very negative trait. And to be honest, there have been times where I've beaten myself up for being as stubborn as I am. But if I look back over my life, I can see clearly the circumstances in which my stubbornness - or tenacity - played a vital role in my survival. Had I not been so stubborn, I would have been broken. More than once. Had I not clung so tightly to what I knew was right, I would have compromised my very being, which would have left me with a fading identity. Had I not remained steadfast in my beliefs, I would have slid down more than one slippery slope towards an untimely demise. 

Call me tenacious. Call me stubborn. Call me pig-headed if you like. I won't take offense. I refuse to. Because my strong-willed nature is a part of who I am and a part of who God has made me to be. I've learned to temper my determination with softness of word and respectful actions. But my core remains like that of a bulldog. Or a donkey. And I've leaned that isn't bad. It's simply...me.

I love hearing from you! Feel free to leave a comment. Do you tend to be stubborn?

Forever Learning

Sometimes I get tired enough that all I want to do is lie on my couch, absorb (or not) my favorite television show and pretend that the world doesn't exist. But for the most part, I enjoy learning new things. I'm not very adventurous when it comes to doing new things, but I do love learning.

I've been involved in martial arts classes for a handful of years now. One of the (many) things I love about my classes is that there is always something new to learn. On the surface, I'm still going over things I was taught the very first time I stepped on the mat. In reality, I'm still practicing all those original moves and building on top of them with new and varying techniques. There are times I'm overwhelmed with new information. However, I absolutely love learning new combinations or moves and working at memorizing them (especially if it involves hitting things).

Finding an online course for Photoshop has been a highlight of this past year. Although the tests at the end of each section were sometimes difficult, I had an absolute blast gaining new information and learning brand new things I could use with such a fascinating program. I can't tell you how many techniques I wished I knew three years ago while working on particular projects. If only. But at least now I know them and I'm using them quite often in my digital art endeavors.

I recently talked about how much I love books. Lately I've been reading up on particular angles of human behaviors and nonverbal communication. I'm captivated by the information tucked in those pages. How people interact. Speak to each other. Physically react. How we perceive each other and the world around us. What to say and how to respond, depending on what another person says or how they behave themselves. Talk about a complicated web of possible scenarios and outcomes.

This fall, I'll be taking a class at a community college on graphic communication. Once again, I'm looking forward to learning something new and putting it to use in the workplace.

All these things are really just a small fraction of items that I'm learning every day. And I'm not alone in this. Everyone is constantly learning all the time, even when it's not obvious. Have you ever stopped to wonder how on earth our brains can handle all of that? I am forever amazed at how God has wired the human mind, enabling us to actually learn every single day without maxing out. Unlike a computer, we don't run out of space. (Although I've witnessed how age can be a bit of a detriment when it comes to retaining information!) We don't need batteries, external hard drives or more RAM. Incredible.

Here's hoping for many more years of learning new things. It's just more fun that way.


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Crawl Inside a Pizza Box

This is Jazzy. I lost her last year to the ripe old age of 17. All her life though, she provided me with many smiles and many laughs. My favorite memory of her is that she was a junk food junky. Her favorite snack was pepperoni and flavored potato chips. No joke. Like most cats, she also enjoyed her dairy - cheese in particular -along with bacon, cheetos, sausage, pizza in general, and ice cream - any flavor was fine.

As noted in this particular photo, Jazzy decided to see if I'd left anything for her after downing a small pizza for supper. I can't remember if there really was anything left or not, but I got so tickled at her antics, that rather than shoo her away, I snapped a picture. In all reality though, it captures her junk food personality trait. What's more is that she didn't care. She didn't worry about calories or carbs, or the fact that she had just stuck her whole front half into a pizza box to seek out any mere morsels left behind. Really now - talk about desperate. This kitty had issues!

The more I think about it though...the more I think I'd like to be that uninhibited sometimes. I know I need to watch what I eat, and I'm not gonna throw caution to the wind and abuse my body by eating everything in sight. But every once in a while...what's really the harm in sticking my head in a pizza box? Who cares? Living life doesn't have to be boring. Of course, use wisdom, but who says we can't have a bit of fun along the way? I'm pretty sure God is not a boring God. Just sayin'.

I probably won't literally stick my head inside a pizza box (unless I'm with my brother - he tends to bring out my goofier side). But I might eat the whole thing once in a while. And I'll probably eat that whole bowl of ice cream. And I might just splash through the next puddle I see. Or balance on the curb instead of walking on the sidewalk. Or say hi to a stranger. Maybe I'll even drive with the windows down and the radio up as loud as I can stand it. Next time it rains, maybe I'll go outside and dance in the downpour.

Life's short. Very short. Leaving the pizza box closed might be a good idea sometimes. But every once in a while...stick your head inside. There might be a surprise morsel waiting that will inspire your soul.


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Creepy Tunnels

There it is. The light at the end of the tunnel. See? It does exist!

Well... it's not really a tunnel. It's a drain pipe connecting two quarries where I fish. And it was broad daylight, so the contrast really isn't that great. But I felt creative nonetheless.

Actually, staring through that pipe kind of reminds me of some of my own recent hiccups in life. This tunnel is kinda dark. Just a bit creepy. Rusty. Obviously wet. Slippery. And it's a bit of a jaunt to the other end. I can see the other side. I see more water, sunlight and trees. Looks pretty nice. (What the picture doesn't show is that I could climb up over the top to where a walkway is, and never have to worry about going through such a pipe. But that would ruin my analogy.)

Thing is, to view this kind of picture - or to get to the other side (had I not given away the secret that I could walk up and over) - the route is through the tunnel. No matter how icky, damp or creepy it is, that's the way out.

Often times in life, I find myself in the middle of a tunnel before I've even realized what's happening. Then I'm stuck. I can't go back, and going forward stinks. But sitting there in the rusty water doesn't do anything but get me wet. Sometimes going forward is the only option - even when that light at the end isn't visible. There are times when sitting still is the answer. But more often than not, moving - in any direction - is the only way to get through a tunnel. Every once in a while, we have the opportunity to see the tunnel before we get there, and we choose to go up and over, rather than through. Those are blessings. Most of the time though...yeah, we end up in that tunnel without any options, other than to simply keep moving and hope that it's a shorter distance to the end than it appears.

I'm so thankful that God provides me with an everlasting light that I can always cling to at the end of any tunnel. But I still get stuck. I still panic. I still get claustrophobic and probably whine a whole lot more than I should. But this picture reminds me to keep going even when I'm too tired, too grouchy, too sad, or too stubborn. I should make it my computer's wallpaper.

...On second thought, it really isn't all that pretty of a picture. But I can reference this blog post whenever I want...


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Newsworthy Soapbox

News. I get it. People want to know what's happening 24/7, whether it's next door or three countries over. Humans are curious by nature and we like to know what's going on around us because it makes us feel more in control. The more in control we feel, the more secure we feel. The more secure we feel, the less stress we feel. The happier we are. You get the idea.

What I don't get is the intentional (and constant) intake of sad, gruesome, tragic and downright disgusting stories and images connected to the news. Every. Single Day.

Whether I'm listening to the radio, scrolling through my Facebook homepage or watching television, I am bombarded with the most tragic stories ever told. House fires. Car accidents. Suicides. Bombers. Kids being eaten by alligators. Kids being dragged off by gorillas. Shootings. Mass killings. War. Starvation. Disease-bearing mosquitoes. The list goes on. And on. And on. And on.

If you like watching the evening news, then just stop reading this now, because I'm on my soapbox, and I'm not getting off til I've finished.

I hate the news. With a passion. It's nice to know when I need to be on guard, whether from prairie fires, or a nearby gas station robbery. But why do I have to hear ten different versions of a child being murdered? Why do I have to read, see, and hear all about a car accident that killed three teenagers? Why do I have to witness the horrific images of death and destruction every time I turn on the television or visit my Facebook page?

I despise the news networks and the way they exploit people and stories just to be dramatic. Yes, I'm saddened by senseless killings. Yes, I'm all for being aware of wars around us. Yes, I get it. But do you really need to hold a camera and microphone in front of the mother who just watched her kid gunned down? Do you really need to stand there in the pouring rain and look like an idiot in knee-high rubber boots to tell me that someone got swept away in a flood? Do you really need to show me bloody victims running from a recent bombing? Are you really pursuing the sharing of news or do you just want good ratings for drama? Why isn't the news rated R for violence?

The weather report is about the only thing I appreciate about the news hour. Every once in a while there will actually be some good news or a cute story or an inspirational thought tied in with a news-worthy article, and those I enjoy. The thing is, those are around us every single day, yet the people in charge of the cameras and stories don't find them valuable enough to share. People won't watch that stuff. Their ratings will go down. They have to be on scene at the next tragic event before their neighbor news station so they get the bigger scoop.

I'm not trying to minimize the reality of our ever-worsening world. I'm not trying to say that the lives in the sickening stories shared aren't of value. But in this case...my ignorance really is bliss. It's not even so much that I don't want to be aware - I just don't want all the graphic details shoved down my throat by the reporters who squeeze out every last drop of drama they can. Go watch a movie. There's plenty of action and violence there to go around. I don't need to worry about real life any more than I already do. Don't make me shed any more tears than I already do over pointless murders and children whose lives are ripped apart.

If you like watching the news and you've actually read this far, don't take my opinion personally. If you dig that kind of stuff, then more power to ya. The news is catering to folks who live to know about the next murder, house fire, and car accident. I'm happy to hear about caught criminals, weather warnings, heroes (although it's sad to see the small selection of people the news deems eligible for the title "hero"), and stories of survival. No, I'm not burying my head in the sand - I'm just tired of being inundated with tragedy.

The more technology advances, the more aware we are of everything happening in every corner of the world. But sometimes I wonder if that's helping or hurting us. Yes, there is a sense of security (albeit false at times) in knowledge. But I have a sneaking suspicion that if we were blissfully ignorant of just a small percentage of newsworthy items, we might feel just a bit less stress. Of course, I also wonder about the one-sided perspectives and truthfulness of the the stories we hear, but that would be a whole different blog post.


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Small Town Wonders

I live in a small town. A very small town, actually. By choice, believe it or not. I make myself drive forty-five minutes (one-way) to work every day just so I can stay in a small town. I've got city friends who think I'm nuts. But for those who love the country - or the feel of small towns - can certainly relate.

There are a whole lot of good reasons to be in a small town. I'm in the habit of locking my doors, but there really isn't a great threat of burglary or tom-foolery in this type of neighborhood. I can walk anywhere I want to, whether it's the post office, gas station, ice cream shop or... well, I guess there's not a whole lot more than that, but if there was, I could still walk there! Folks are generally friendly. And while everybody knows everything - even things they shouldn't - there's a strange amount of comfort in that kind of community. The list of benefits to living in a small town is a long one. But I keep adding to it. For example, this sunset. While driving from my parents' house at one end of town the other night, I saw the beginning of a very pretty sunset. Without anyone behind me (did I mention the lack of traffic?), I pulled over and snapped a photo. Sad that I wouldn't be able to see the rest of the sunset from home, I chided myself for thinking I had to head there right away. All I had to do was go another three blocks and I'd be at the other edge of town! So I did.

Still with no other cars in sight, I hit the edge of town in about sixty seconds (maybe eighty), and I was able to pull over again and watch as the sky turned orange. I got in a few more good shots with my phone, too. I had to laugh, though, at the thought that my town is so small, I really can go from one end to the other so quickly (without even speeding) that I don't even have to miss the ever-changing patterns in the sky.

It's not something totally amazing, I'll admit, but this small-town girl will take all the little things she can get. And since I'm a big fan of sunsets, well, this is a pretty good addition to the list of reasons I'm going to stay put.


I love hearing from you! Feel free to leave a comment! Are you a city person or a country person?

Sopping Wet, But Warm

This cute little guy is Dynamite. I took this picture a little over a month ago, the same day I brought him home. A coworker had sent a message out to the staff that he had an orphaned kitten, and...well... I couldn't say no.

As soon as I got Dynamite home, I gave him a much-needed bath. Needless to say, it was quite a traumatic experience for such a tiny fella, and not exactly the most pleasant experience for me. But we both survived. I took him out on the porch to dry off in the sunshine when I caught this priceless expression. He was so miserable being so wet, and so tired, but he was loving the sunshine. Despite his dislike of bathing, he obviously felt better afterward, and thoroughly enjoyed the warm sun.

Going through some tough stuff lately, I wonder how much I actually look like Dynamite in this picture. Frazzled, wet, tired, and at the world's mercy. And yet...there's sunshine. Despite everything seemingly going wrong and pulling me down, even if I feel like crap and I don't want to get up in the morning...the sun still shines. God still has His arm around me. He still has everything under control - even when I feel like a drowned rat. He has already seen tomorrow and is already there waiting for me to simply continue in faith. He's got this, even when every ounce of control is ripped from my grasp.

Dynamite is twice as big now, and he does not appreciate baths any more than that first day. But we get along great. Even though I put him through getting clean, he loves me and I love him. As long as he's got his sunshine, he's good. And as long as I've got my sunshine - literal or figurative - I'm good, too.


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Roses are Red, Days are Too Busy...

"Take time to stop and smell the roses." That's a phrase I've been familiar with almost all my life. I've never been able to understand people who are always on the go. Busy, busy, busy. Too active to actually stop for just a few seconds and smell the proverbial roses. I've always been quite content with a slower lifestyle. A quieter one. A lifestyle that allows for early bedtimes, naps, and hot baths - leaning towards being an introvert helps, I'm sure. I know some people are not busy by choice. There are families to care for, jobs to do, and responsibilities stacked to the ceiling. I get it. And I've got my own set of responsibilities that keeps me on the go as well.

Lately though, even with a very slow lifestyle (in some people's eyes), I find myself caught up in a routine that feels way too fast. Way too busy. Way too stressful. I've realized that stopping to smell the roses may not actually have all that much to do with literal time. I've got more time to spare than most of the people I personally know. Yet even I look at he clock and find that the day has simply melted away, leaving me with a long list of things I never accomplished.

I wonder if, perhaps, I've simply been ignoring the roses. It's not that I don't have time. It's that I've been too focused on the things that stress me out, rather than the things that have the potential to relax me. Stopping to smell the roses takes all of two seconds. Tops. I know this because I pass by several rose bushes every time I walk into my parents' house. If the breeze is blowing just right, I hardly even have to pause to be able to smell them.

The point is, I'm aware the roses are there. Whether my body pauses mid-stride or not, my subconscious takes a brief breather (no pun intended) to allow my olfactory system to absorb the sweet scent, and for that split second, my spirit is calmed.

Busy to the hilt or not, there's always "time" to stop and smell the roses. Because, in reality, it doesn't take any time at all. Yet it still provides a quiet moment in time to just be. Breathe. And remember the little things in life are the best.

Maybe the "roses" in your life are kind words from someone else. The sunshine on your face. A smile that lifts your spirits. All we have to do is be open to accepting those tiny blessings for what they are - blessings - and we have essentially stopped to smell the roses.


I love hearing from you! Feel free to leave a comment!

Reading, Writing and Rambling

A little over a year ago, I posted about a Successful Experiment that Failed. Basically, I was gaining readership through a formula I'd learned from a best-selling author. But in the end, it was less than fulfilling. I didn't want readers just to have readers. I simply wanted to blog whenever I wanted to and if anybody took notice, it was a bonus. Much of my attention reverted to easier places like Facebook, where one-sentence thoughts are more acceptable than on a blog. Obviously, it's an easier pastime.

But I'm still a writer, and I still like to ramble...pretty much about anything. Which can be, at times, more appropriate in a blog setting. So today, the topic is books. Not my books, though.

When I was younger, I couldn't get enough of reading. I don't know how many times I walked to the library to check out more books. I remember picking out the illustrated children's books, later graduating to the chapter books in the young adult section. I can still smell the basement floor. You know - the musty pages smell that only comes from well-used books. Back then, I had to learn how to find books by sifting through literal cards. Books weren't scanned - they were hand-marked by the librarian.

When I started writing my own books, I began using most of my spare time to write, not read. If I had ten minutes or ten hours, I wanted to get in all the writing I could, so I didn't make time to read, unless it was a book I was really interested in. So for a handful of years, I rarely read any books.

Then the bug bit me just recently and I've fallen in love all over again. Granted, now it's a mix of novels and educational material, but either way, I'm rediscovering my love of reading. Books. Real books. Not intangible files I've downloaded on my computer, but real, honest-to-goodness books that have actual pages that I can feel and smell and dog-ear. I can scribble notes, underline, highlight and thumb through pages to find my place. I can take books wherever I go without worrying about running out of battery or having internet access. I can put them all on my shelf in any order I please, and I don't have to perform searches to find them again.

I'm not saying I don't read on my computer or smartphone. Actually, I read quite a bit on my smartphone. But when I really want to sit down and enjoy a good story, or I want to dive into the study of a topic in which I'm interested, I'll choose the paperback version over digital any day.

We may have entered a digital age, but mark my words (you can print this out and underline and highlight if you want), printed words will always have a place in the hearts, hands and homes of true readers.

How about you? Do you prefer digital reading or printed?


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The Depth of Blessings

I view blessings differently than I used to. First, I’m more grateful, and more apt to recognize blessings after reading an article that chided those who might call the nice things in life “blessings.” Their point was that sometimes things just happen – God is still in control, but having cheaper-than-expected car repairs, or finding the perfect pet companion were things that simply will or won’t happen in the world, and labeling them as blessings would make others (who didn’t get the cheap repairs, or whose dog just died) feel of lesser value to God. I understand what the writer was saying, but I can’t and won’t stop giving God the credit, even for the little things. Maybe it’s just something He allowed life to give me, but even so, He could have prevented it, and who else am I going to thank? I gained a new sense of necessity to remember to thank God, and often, for the things which I have, whether they’re material possessions or things of eternal consequence.

Second, I have discovered that blessings only make me feel less at home here. This is not to be misunderstood as ungratefulness. On the contrary, I have experienced such blessings in my life that I long, even more, to know and see the Giver of those blessings. Being blessed by anything from material possessions, to health, to family and friends, to financial means have nothing to do with resting securely on this earth. They have nothing to do with finding pleasure in the “stuff” of this world. Why would God want His children to be more satisfied here when there is something so much greater waiting for us after this life is over?

I think the more accurate perspective would be that first, God enjoys bringing pleasure to His children. While He will often allow man to follow a path not of His will, and He certainly does many things we do not understand, I believe He finds enjoyment in our smiles. I only say this because we were ultimately made in His image, and as a father enjoys seeing his children happy, I can only conclude that God enjoys loving on His children as well. The other side of the coin is that God also wants us to know Him more. Better. Deeper. I may experience trials. I may experience being broke and sick, and forced to live on the street – but the greatest blessings have nothing to do with my physical needs – they have to do with my spiritual needs. God blesses us with physical contentment not so we can live a life of luxury, but so we can remember to thank Him and realize He’s still in control, and, ultimately, so we will long to be with Him forever.

I won’t stop giving God the credit for even the smallest things. I don’t care if life would have dealt me those same cards anyway. And I also won’t allow the blessings to compromise my perspective by making me too comfortable here on earth. If my neighbor has more than I, it is no reason to feel less valued by God – it’s just another opportunity to thank Him for what I do have, and to thank Him for what’s to come: something better.

No matter the blessing, life here is temporary. The “stuff” of this world will pass away eventually. Nothing lasts – not even the material things God has allowed me to have. Nothing but God and our salvation in Him is forever.

So I will be grateful. But more so for the fact that God loves me than for the fact that I have a level of physical or emotional comfort. 


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Successful Experiment that Failed

I may very well be the only person who has noticed my ever-slowing additions to this blog. And to be completely honest, I originally revamped how I did things here as an experiment. I wanted to find out if a book I read was true – that building an online audience was possible. And on a small scale, it did work. If I would follow the advice of a particular best-selling author, I’m sure I could be as successful as she claims. But here it is: after trying out the whole “build an audience” thing, I realized it really wasn’t my thing.

Starting out, I decided to quit talking about writing only. I’ve got a few writer friends who might read my posts, but reading about writing can be…rather boring. And I know that. So I stopped. Or rather, I significantly reduced my writing-related articles. I still believe that was a wise move. However, my next decision was to blog on a schedule and talk about a wide array of topics to which my readers could relate. So with those goals, I began blogging about things like my cats. Collecting key chains. Peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. Doodling. You know – things that really matter. As long as I could get my three posts a week in, even if it was sharing a silly YouTube video, I felt successful. And my readership did grow.

But after a while, my enthusiasm waned. Not because I didn’t like telling people about my flowers, Mr. Squirrel, or surviving a smoke alarm disaster, but because I was blogging because I had to. And if I didn’t have anything worth writing about, I’d come up with some shallow information – which may have made readers smile, but I was blogging simply to meet my own schedule and to gain that sought-after readership. That was all.

As usual though, I go against the flow, and I don’t like doing things just because other people like it, or just because it’s the “in” thing. And while my pointless rambles might have been enjoyed to a certain degree, they did little to satisfy me. Seems a little selfish, but in all reality, my blog is about me and what I like. And here’s the thing: I like having points. Generally, I can find a spiritual point in just about any situation since God is just that important to me, or at the very least, I can create a life-application out of the simplest story. Writing about peanut butter and jelly? Cute, but what’s the point? That’s what my Facebook page is for.

Blogging lately has become more about what inspires me, and less about staying on schedule. More about what might encourage or enlighten someone, and less about using anything just to check blogging off my to-do list. As I continue down this path, I’ll probably have fewer readers. As the content steers more away from the everyday blather, those who read my posts may know less about my kitties’ adventures and my taste for Doritos, but they’ll probably gain a better understanding of who I really am. And there are those who might not notice a difference at all, and are, at the moment, wondering what on earth I’m talking about. And that’s okay, too.

Don’t worry – I’ll still have life’s silly adventures documented here, I’m sure. And I'm not trying to eliminate the fun tongue-in-cheek  articles that I love to write. But when I’m absent for a while, it’s not because I’ve lost interest. It’s simply because I’m searching for something deeper than Doritos to blog about. I want my readers – however few they may be – to know me, and not just be another number on the chart that shows how many people have read my posts. My initial experiment was a success, no doubt. But numbers don’t define me. So now, I just want to be me, regardless of how big or small my audience is, and focus more on what I like to write about, when I like to write about them.

Oh, Introverted Me

There can be a lot of negative things said about a labeled introvert. Some definitions or perceptions lean towards a selfish nature, or behavior akin to being a hermit. But while negative actions may indeed describe some people, introverts, as a whole, can no more be placed in the same basket than can bananas and apples. Though both are fruit, they are very different. As are introverts.

I’ve discovered this as I have researched my own personality traits. I’m one of those weird people who likes to figure out exactly what makes me tick. What actions or reactions are natural versus learned? Where do my emotions come from? Why do I prefer solitude over a multitude? In finding answers, I’ve discovered, as always, that no two people are completely alike. Though I may label myself as an introvert, I’m still different from my neighbor, also claiming to be an introvert. That said, we all, who love the quietness of our own minds over the loudness of a crowd, find ourselves on much common ground.

I found these statements on Wikipedia, and they very much describe the way I feel:

“Some popular psychologists have characterized introverts as people whose energy tends to expand through reflection and dwindle during interaction… Introverts are easily overwhelmed by too much stimulation from social gatherings and engagement… Mistaking introversion for shyness is a common error. Introverts prefer solitary to social activities, but do not necessarily fear social encounters like shy people do.”

After reading the very first sentence, I wanted to jump up, throw my arms in the air and yell, “Yes!” Because this is exactly me. People. Wear. Me. Out. I’m not saying I don’t love people. I do! I have many friends whose hugs I crave. I have social circles I enjoy. I need interaction with others – truly. But it doesn’t take me long to get maxed out. It’s kind of like putting gas in my car. When I’m alone, I’m fueling up. My energy “tends to expand through reflection.” Once I’m around people – be it one or ten, my engine is running. The situation and types of people can often dictate how fast my fuel gauge moves, but regardless, it heads towards empty. My energy “dwindles during interaction.” Again, this doesn’t mean I don’t enjoy it. I love zipping down the highway in my car, too, but eventually, the tank hits “E.” And when it does, trying to continue driving does nothing but make the situation worse. Soon, I’m stranded along the highway, exhausted and frazzled. It’s the same way for me on the inside when I’ve been over-stimulated, or have gone too long without a personal refuel.

Unfortunately, at least with me, there are no real rules. I can’t say that interacting with nine people is my limit, and when I hit ten, that’s when my energy dwindles. Nor can I say that it takes me sixty minutes of quiet to refuel, and on minute sixty-one, I’m ready to go again. Every day is different, depending on emotions, physical conditions, and mental strain – or lack thereof. Sometimes I can go a week with a ton of boisterous interaction and be just fine. And sometimes all it takes is one hour with the right (or wrong) person, and I’m craving a whole week of quiet with just me and my cats. Who I'm with – whether it be my best friend, a coworker or my own family – can matter little. And hitting the overstimulation point is as easy to predict as the weather – you can get fairly close, but the weather can, and will, throw its own curveballs.

In the end, I’m an introvert who sometimes likes to dress in an extrovert’s clothing. As with most people, I have both traits – I just usually lean more heavily towards the introverted side of things.

So when I walk away, please don’t think me rude – I probably just need a few minutes of quiet. When I seem to not engage in conversation, please don’t take it personally – I may simply be allowing my brain to refuel. When I decline a social activity, please don’t think I don’t like spending time with you – it may just be a day I need to decompress. If I say I’d rather go home and watch a movie alone rather than hang out, please know I simply need to chill out before I run my tank dry – our relationship is still secure. When I tell you I’m spending the day at home to do nothing but read and sort laundry, don’t feel sorry for me – I’m probably loving it more than you know. And when I can’t stand to even breathe the same air as you, please realize I’m probably just over-stimulated – I still love you the same as I did before, and I just need a break. Your patience and quietness is all I need.

Being an introvert is not an excuse to hide away, be rude or avoid people. My personality traits do not dictate my actions – what I do is still my choice, no matter my tendencies. I'm a mature adult who chooses not to run screaming out of a crowded restaurant when that's all I really want to do. But struggling to survive as an introvert is very real, and a little bit of understanding can go a long way.

I’m certain that extroverts have many challenges as well. We all do, no matter where we fall on man’s scale of personality traits. But this is the perspective I know well. And I know God can and will use me, introvert or not, if I pay attention and make sure He’s first in my life…even on days I feel over-stimulated.

I Love All Her Faces

It’s time again for me to bring up one of my critter children. Not because I’m a crazy cat lady (yet) but my one cat seems to have a way of teaching me life lessons when I least expect it.

Ever since she was a tiny kitten, she’s lived up to her name, Nitro.

Whether she presents herself as a Christmas gift,

steals my heat,

or takes over my television remote control,

she’s my best bud. I’ve often said that I believe God gave me Nitro just to make sure I smile every day. She likes to grab moving blankets,

hang upside down,

attempt the impossible,

sit at the dinner table,

ship herself to exotic destinations,

and take up residence in my bathroom sink.

No matter what, even if she destroys any attempts on my part to get some work done,

(and no matter how innocent she tries to look)

I love her.

One thing that has been impossible for me to capture in a picture is how Nitro acts when she wants something (whether food or just attention), especially when I get home from work or when I get up in the mornings. Somewhere along the way, she developed a habit of jumping up into my arms (from the floor or nearby furniture). At first, I was surprised by her behavior, but it was cute, and even though half the time it just meant she was hungry, it felt like she loved me and wanted a hug – and her purring just added to my own pleasure.

What I soon observed was most special though, was how she was jumping on me. I realized that not only was she aiming at my chest (rather than the ledge of my shoulder), but she was not extending her claws either. She was aiming herself at me, fully expecting me to catch her. Once caught, the purring would start, and she’d give my hairline a wet grooming, whether it needed it or not. She had complete faith that every time she jumped, I’d catch her and hold her.

Eventually, I stopped and thought about Nitro’s behavior and how it compares to how I should be with God. It’s hard to trust someone I can’t see – I admit it. I love God with all my heart and I follow Him and have faith in Him. But it’s not always easy. Sometimes I want to do things my way. Or I don’t really have enough trust that He knows what He’s doing with my life. I extend my claws to hang on – just in case He really does let go of me. Or maybe I don’t jump at all, scared He won’t catch me.

But the truth of the matter is, if there is only One I can ever trust, it’s Him. I fully believe He will never let me down. And as such, I should always feel brave enough to leap into His arms, fully trusting that He will not only catch me, but He’ll never drop me. That’s just the way He is.

As quirky as Nitro can be, (she’s playing in a couple cardboard boxes as I type this, and doing a good job of making me laugh) she also, unknowingly, teaches me about life…if I’m willing to stop and take a closer look.


I love hearing from you! Feel free to leave a comment.

Singing in the Snow

So, yesterday was another snow day for me. As in, I woke up to blowing snow and a ridiculously low wind chill, which made me decide it was worthless to try and drive the 45 minutes to work. I went back to bed.

When I did finally get up, I took this picture off my front porch.

My poor car (which isn't a hatchback - it just looks like it from the snow piling up on the trunk) appeared to be frozen stiff. The wind was howling and blowing even more snow off my apartment roof. Snow from just a couple days prior was still piled up behind my car. I think my nose froze solid in the three and a half seconds I stood outside. The picture doesn't show very well that at this point, the snow was still falling pretty steadily. And then I heard it.

Birds.

Singing.

Seriously? I could hear all kinds of birds up in the trees (I didn't look for them, since I was trying to avoid hypothermia) singing up a storm (no pun intended). If I hadn't seen the snow or felt the cold temperature, I would have thought it was springtime. It stunned me (for that extra half second), and I stepped back inside my apartment just shaking my head.

Now, I don't speak Birdish, so maybe these flocks of birds were on the warpath and hurling insults at each other, but my imagination happily sits on the notion that these particular feathered creatures were part of a merry choir.

To be honest, it kind of made me think about my own attitude. I'm all for snow days, but I was on the verge of loathing a day stuck at home with a ton of work piling up at the office. But I was inside! Warm. Dry. Lying back on my couch and sipping coffee while watching television. At least I wasn't stuck outside, up in a tree, battling the wind, snow and cold like those poor birds were.

I looked up some Bible references about singing, and this one struck me as interesting. It's in the book of Acts, and two missionaries, Paul and Silas, are in prison (after being severely beaten) for spreading the word about Jesus. They're in just about the worst pickle they could be in, and here they're found praying and singing. Singing! By the grace of God, they escaped prison that night and even managed to find a new believer in the jailer himself. 

So, yesterday was another snow day for me. As in, I woke up to blowing snow and a ridiculously low wind chill... But I still had a reason to sing. If the birds can sing... if Paul and Silas could sing... then I certainly can find reason to refrain from complaints and find something to be thankful for instead.


I love hearing from you! Feel free to leave a comment.

PB&J - You had me at PB

I remember eating peanut butter and jelly sandwiches as a kid. Anyone who doesn't, missed out, and I'm sorry. I don't recall ever being tired of these simple lunches, and I'm sure my parents were grateful as we survived on a very limited budget.

Now that I'm an adult, this is how I'm spending my lunch break:

Yep, a PB&J sandwich (and Cheetos, of course). When I first moved out on my own, there was one day I packed a PB&J sandwich for lunch, and my mom (who is also my coworker) was so concerned for me. She knew finances were tight as I juggled my income for the first time, and she was worried that that's all I could afford to eat. I had to laugh because though money was tight, my reason was because I liked this kind of sandwich.

And today I'm, once again, thoroughly enjoying the ooey-gooey goodness. (Do I dare admit that I was actually craving this, and that's why I brought it for my lunch today?)

My taste buds and I have a really good relationship with the simple things, besides PB&J. Take mashed potatoes, for example. I like instant better than the real thing. When it comes to macaroni and cheese, I'd rather have the generic brand over Kraft. I love canned chicken. Pasta? Put a little butter and parsley on it, and I'm happy.

I don't need a speech about processed foods - I get it. But I have to admit that my taste buds often do go for the unexpected. (Oh yeah, green beans is another one - I prefer canned over fresh. Go figure.)

I try to eat fairly responsibly, whether talking in terms of quality or quantity, but that doesn't override the fact that sometimes I do crave (and prefer) the "simpler" things. Maybe I like PB&J sandwiches because they're stuffed full of carbs, I don't know, but I think that I just enjoy it because it's quick, easy, and I do like the taste. (And as a bonus, it is cheap.)

I won't eat PB&J every day for multiple reasons, but I do consider it a treat, not a "I have to because that's all that was in my refrigerator" thing. Tomorrow? Who knows? You might find me dipping canned chicken in some ranch dressing. Or eating a whole can of green beans.

If I can't find enjoyment in the little things, I'll be up the proverbial creek when it comes to the big things. And once I think about it...it really is all in perspective, whether we're talking food or circumstances. I can find enjoyment in anything I really want to because I'm the only one in charge of my own attitude.


I love hearing from you! Feel free to leave a comment. Do you have any weird food quirks? 

A Long Journey

I just made the official announcement on Facebook that my new devotion book, God at the Reins is now available to purchase. It has been...a long journey. And for my shortest book (just 112 pages), you'd think it wouldn't have taken me this many years to finally see it in print.

To be honest, it's been a struggle since the very beginning, with the first question of, "How many devotions do I include in this book?" It wasn't long before I landed on the number 52. That meant I had a lot of work to do...but also far less work than if I'd gone for a daily devotional of 365 - I wanted to create a new project, not a goal I couldn't accomplish.

Thinking up a total of 52 parallels between lessons learned with horses and life lessons as a Christian really wasn't as daunting as I'd first thought it might be. It was fun to actually put on paper what I'd discovered through years of horsemanship. Putting three passions together (writing, horses and my faith) was a good experience as always.

But then...I started running out of steam when I got somewhere around devotion number 30, and the project was set aside to make room for my other writing addictions. My novel, Discovering the Dawn, was published (while my devotion book was still waiting on me), as was my collection, Smatterings of an Analytical Loner, and my writer's guide, Under Construction. Somewhere in between all of that, I did manage to complete all 52 devotions ("complete" as in having them typed out). There were many, many long pauses between the first editing process, the second editing, the hunt for applicable Bible verses (which I finally "outsourced" to my mother [who is the editor of Daily Devotions for the Deaf, and a Bible guru] because by that point, my brain was all but fried completely).

Eventually, I had all of my text and all Bible verses together in one file. For all practical purposes, the manuscript itself was "done." I needed to start formatting - laying out all the pages, picking fonts, making everything look neat and tidy, etc. And...my heart just wasn't in it.

During the fall of 2013, my life changed in a way that affected this particular project - or at least the portion of my heart that was attached to the book. For the first time since childhood, I was without a horse. My life had evolved, and I was moving into town without the possibility of keeping my horse. She went to a loving home, and I knew it was for the best - I was very happy with where I was now living and my activities outside horsemanship. But whenever I would think about finishing my devotion book, it just hit a little too close to home. I missed horses too much to worry about completing the book.

Yet, it was an unfinished project, and if there's one thing I can't stand, it's leaving something unfinished. I eventually set a new goal. The fall of 2014. That's when this book would be released. And... it didn't happen. I was able to find enough motivation to have the text proofed and to make all the final revisions that needed to be made. But the motivation was short-lived, and the book once again was left to sit. Until now.

Maybe it was the start of a new year. Maybe it was the frustration that I'd not yet met my goals with the devotions. Or, maybe it was simply the right time - God's time. No matter the reason, I knew I needed to finish God at the Reins. I set to work on all the layout and design elements - formatting all of the inside pages, creating a cover, and producing a graphic to spruce up the text. And for the first time since the idea's birth, it felt right.

Here's the thing: I left the devotions with their original perspectives. This means that when I talk about my horse, it's in the present. She is my horse on those pages, not was. I thought about rewriting all of the text to indicate I no longer have a horse at this current date. But even though God at the Reins is published in 2015, the devotions were written several years ago when I was much more involved with horses. And even though I may not have ownership of a horse right now, I have no idea what the future holds. I will forever be a horseman at heart, whether I'm able to feel the mighty animal move beneath me on a daily basis, or only on rare occasion.

The purpose of God at the Reins remains as it always has (regardless of whether or not I currently own a horse) - to provide some hope and inspiration to those who are curious about horses, those who simply enjoy the beauty of horses, or those who are actively involved with horses. The book is about life. About faith. About taking simple experiences with an animal and turning them into lessons that stick with us for a lifetime.

Each book I write takes me on some kind of journey. Maybe that's why I'm so addicted to this art. Each time I produce a newly published project, it is simply evidence of new ideas, inspiration, creativity and growth in some way, shape or form. Each book is covered in my fingerprints...and God at the Reins is no exception.


I love hearing from you! Feel free to leave a comment.

A Significant Doodle

Sometimes it really is the little things. You know - those things that seem trivial at the time, but then later grow far beyond what was expected.

The other day, during a meeting, I found myself doodling. (Not an uncommon occurrence at all.) On this particular day, I had a pen with blue ink and a pad of narrow white scrap paper. As I listened to what was being said, I found my fingers creating a couple of strangely intriguing flowers with petals of odd shapes and sizes, and stems made of triangles and squares. The wispy grass grew in whimsical curls, and an insect (related to a butterfly) flitted about with its triangular-shaped body. A ladybug came onstage at some point, although this one had a peculiar rectangle body instead of rounded, and antennas fit for its fantasy home world.

Later, as I actually took a moment to look at my blue-ink doodles, I realized that I kind of liked the scene. There was something about it that made me smile, and my mind's eye began filling in the spaces with colors and details I hadn't yet drawn. The doodle evolved into a living scene with motion, light and sound. There was a world there with undiscovered creatures, stars not of our own solar system, and a feeling of peaceful adventure.

Then the meeting started again, and my piece of scrap paper was again just a page with some blue-ink doodles.

Until I had time to sit at my computer and play.

The purpose? Just fun (and my rectangle ladybugs are doggone cute). I'm still working on different versions of the scene, adding new details, and am already using several images as wallpaper on my computer. It still makes me smile.

And it all started from a simple little doodle. Go figure.

Little things can't always be dismissed. They can't always go ignored as something that will never amount to anything else. Whether it's a doodle, a small idea, a kind word, a tiny seed of faith, or a simple smile - anything (and anyone) has the potential to become more. To become great. To become significant.


I love hearing from you! Feel free to leave a comment.

An Hour Behind in the Name of Fun

This is the wall clock in my living room:

It's one of my favorites. Probably because it’s one of my own designs. But regardless, there’s something special about this clock – other than the fact that it doesn’t have numbers and I’m still able to read it (which, some days, is quite a feat).

The cool thing about this clock is that it doesn’t run on daylight savings time. Well, actually, it probably would, but I never set it ahead in the spring. So basically, yes, it remains an hour behind for a good portion of the year. You might think I did this for some complex experiment. But I gotta admit…it was just pure laziness. I’m short. So taking things off my wall and hanging them back up again doesn’t happen very often. Granted, I have a step stool, but that makes the whole process even more complicated. And I can do the math when I look at the clock. So…I left it. Besides, this time of year, the time is right!

Apart from laziness though…I have another confession. My mom sits in my apartment almost every weekday before work, since we carpool from my place. And she sees the clock. And she’s mentioned it multiple times – the fact that it isn’t set right during the summer. So, of course, I do the daughterly thing and…leave it as is. Just because. I’m not saying I enjoy annoying my mother. I just find a moderate amount of amusement in it.

I sort of do that with other things, too, though. Like the runner on the floor of my office at work. I know it moves with use and gets bunched up on the sides because it’s moved too close to the filing cabinet. But I just want to see how long it takes for my office buddy to move it because she can’t stand its crookedness any longer. Sometimes I rearrange something on a shelf just because I know someone else likes it another way and will continually move it back without knowing I’m the one that’s been moving it…on purpose. I guess I’m just ornery that way.

I’m not saying I’m a prankster. Oh, I enjoy an innocent prank now and then, but I usually stick to the more subtle methods of getting under someone’s skin. (Although I do keep a fake spider around for special occasions.) I need some kind of outlet for my creativity, right?

In the end, I only pick on people I like, though, so if I should ever purposely annoy you, just remember it’s a good thing. Besides, I think God gave us our senses of humor for a reason. If not used, it will surely go to waste...and humor is a terrible thing to waste.


Feel free to leave a comment! Have you ever done something like this?

CHRISTmas Arrogance - Part 3

The Celebration vs. The Blame. 

We’d like to think that just because we (Bible-believers) celebrate the birth of Christ during this season, that we avoid the stress of the holiday, but it’s just not true. We like to ridicule “the world” for their shopping frenzies, obsession with gifts, and stressful (if not downright weird) family dynamics at the holiday dinner table.  But while we’re pointing fingers, we’ve got plenty of leftover fingers pointing right back at ourselves. Even though we like to proclaim our godliness throughout this often-times-greedy time of year, how many traps do we ourselves fall into?

“Look at those folks stumbling over one another for that one good deal. How absurd! Now…where is the shopping list from Uncle Herman? You know we have to get him exactly what he wants or else he’ll complain.”

“Look at all those retailers taking advantage of the holiday season! They’re offering all these obnoxious sales, just to gain more money from people who can’t even afford their rent. Oh, hey, here’s a good deal – I should buy six of those for all the cousins.”

“That retailer only cares about making a buck! They’re taking advantage of ‘Christmas’. It’s despicable! Let’s go shop over at this other store that’s owned by someone who’s having an affair with his secretary instead – at least the store encourages its employees to say ‘Merry Christmas.’”

“Those folks get so stressed out about their family dinners! Look at all that unnecessary food! They could be giving food to starving kids in Africa. Now…do I need to bring rolls or a pie to Grandma’s? Both? Okay.”

The Christmas season can be wrought with perils, whether at the grocery store or family dinners. And we all partake in the stress in one way or the other, whether we deny it or not. We’re not immune to the stress of Christmas lists, family dinners and shopping. We may not appreciate the busy retail stores, but we shop anyway. We may roll our eyes at someone else’s family dynamics, but ours are no different. We may even go as far to boycott particular retailers or traditions, when in the end, our own choices are really no better.

“We” face stress along with the rest of the world. It can’t be avoided – it’s a given. But we don’t have to focus on it. Instead of pointing fingers, we can know that we’re no better, and simply improve ourselves. Yes, we will get stressed out at some point. Yes, we will roll our eyes at certain gimmicks, and we may even shed tears over things that a year from now we find silly. But none of those things should override the celebration.

There is reason to celebrate this holiday season. I celebrate Christ, and I celebrate the holiday itself. But if all I do is blame the rest of their world for their shortcomings, how does that make me look? What kind of an example am I then? I can’t sit around and think of all the things I could complain about. Instead, I need to be thankful for the opportunities I have, spread the love, and enjoy the things that make me smile. That’s what will set me apart. That’s what will make me different. And that’s what will bring me the most peace – not pointing fingers.

To conclude my 3-part message:
Accept “Happy Holidays” as a cheerful greeting. Celebrate what’s worth celebrating. And focus on what’s really important.

Let’s shine hope and love, not arrogance, this season and always.



Did you miss the other segments? Read Part 1 and Part 2.

I love hearing from you! What does your holiday season look like?