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?

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.

Soapbox: What happened to courtesy and respect?

Honestly, courtesy and respect is what it comes down to. Or lack thereof. But I'm afraid our society is too full of too many people who can't see past themselves to expect anything else.

This is an ongoing thing with me. I won't say pet peeve, because it's more than that. I'm actually angered by the way people behave towards others. Then again, it's no surprise.

I'm most often faced with this issue when going shopping or driving. Those seem to be the two locations where people most become so self-absorbed they only know their route, their time frame, their needs, and quite frankly, no one else matters. I am constantly amazed when, at the grocery or retail store, other shoppers seem to either think they are the only ones that matter, or they don't even see me at all. Sometimes I think it's both. Hello...the aisle is purposely made wide enough for two carts. But that's okay. Take your time. I'll just stand here and wait until you miraculously see me here, then bounce your eyes so you can pretend I don't exist and avoid any of those nasty urges to actually move six inches to the side and allow me to pass. Really...I'm fine waiting here, because...well...I did see you and I put your needs before mine. 

I'm not saying I'm perfect, but I do consciously make an effort to let others go first at those store aisle intersections, let people know they're fine when they do apologize (miracle of miracles) for being in the way, and if I see someone needs something my cart is blocking, I do my best to move. I'm sure I screw up too - I'm not the most manner-filled person in the world, but any efforts on my part do seem to be, do I dare say it...becoming old-fashioned.

Just this morning while driving on the highway, I got stuck in a line of slow-moving traffic due to some construction. Once we were allowed to get up to speed again, several cars, including mine, were trying to escape a couple semis. But, being tailgated, I opted for the creeper lane. Of course...once I got out of the way and let two cars go by, there was a pickup who was bound and determined to get ahead of me. It didn't matter that my blinker was on and I was already coming back over into the main lane again. Had I continued my properly-executed course, he would have sideswiped me. Obviously, the wise choice was for me to get back into the creeper lane until he'd gotten around me (and saved his precious 50 seconds), and even then, I had to make it a quick move before more cars tried to cut me off.

Really? I wasn't even going slowly! Yet every driver I see on that road seems to believe they are the only ones that matter. Today's incident was a normal occurrence. It's their schedule. Their road. Their priorities. I find pleasure in catching up with those speed demons later down the road, proving (if only to myself, since they're obviously blind) their maniac methods really get them nowhere faster.

Apparently, people today find their source of power by being able to push others around, or, at the very least, ignore them. In reality though, all it does is make them look like the fools, for it's quite apparent that they have purposely left behind values such as courtesy and respect. If those same shoppers and drivers would simply open their eyes and look just two feet beyond themselves, not only would there be more peaceful shopping markets and highways, but they might find the confidence to apply that same courtesy and respect more often.

The video below is one I recently saw on Facebook. It's actually a Thai commercial for life insurance, but the concept is a beautiful one. I know that I at least try to look past myself because it's the right thing to do. It's what God wants me to do. But even for non-believers, the concept of giving should not be that hard.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=632CHpeHYZE

Flowers Aren’t for Girls

I’ve been a tomboy most of my life. Growing up, I despised dresses, preferred Legos over dolls, and my favorite set of clothes consisted of jeans, a t-shirt and my beloved cowboy boots. I liked fishing, riding bikes with my brother and playing chess in groups of mostly boys. Most of my friends were boys, and though we were never allowed to play too roughly, I was still one of the gang.

Today, I’m pretty much just as anti-femininity as I used to be. I still hate dresses, and if you open my closet, you might find a couple sets of “good clothes,” but they’re well-hidden behind the mass of t-shirts and jeans. My favorite thing to do at work is haul heavy boxes or loads of paper so I can use my muscles. Scratches and bruises from my martial arts classes are worn proudly. My haircut of choice is very short, and makeup rarely touches my face. And the color pink? Don’t get me started. (Okay, I admit I do have one pink t-shirt. I have nothing against other women who adore this light shade of red, it’s just not my thing.)

In spite of all my boyish tendencies though…one of my favorite things God created is flowers. (Yes, even pink ones.) I love taking close-up photos of all kinds of flowers, especially the not-so-common. There are so many deep, rich colors absorbed in each petal that my eyes can't help but stare. Black petunias? Way cool. Stripes? Even cooler! Red. Orange. Purple. Blue. White. Yellow. All the colors of the rainbow are captured in these wonderful blossoming plants. If they smell good, that’s just a bonus. I love flowers enough to have two African violets in my office at work, and I’d like to grow more. I couldn’t have a flower garden anymore once I moved into my own apartment, so I had to at least buy a bunch of annuals to put in pots out on my porch. They’re not the happiest flowers I’ve ever seen, but I love doing my best to care for them and taking pictures of their blooms.

Call me girly and you’ll get a palm heel to the face or a round kick upside your head. Maybe both. But I’ll never renounce my love of flowers. As such, I’ve simply determined that flowers aren’t for girls. They’re for anyone who can enjoy the beauty God has given us. And flowers certainly are beautiful.

Do you have a favorite kind of flower? Do you admire from a distance, or do you have a green thumb?

 

New Blooms, Old Memories

My African violet is blooming again. Actually, it's my grandma's violet.

Quite a few years ago, I gained an interest in starting new, baby violets by cutting off the leaf of one flower and planting it. I'd have multiple styrofoam cups with leaves sticking up out of potting soil as I waited and watched to see full plants form. I was amazed at the process.

Eventually, I wound up with too many African violets. And since my office area at work was starting to look like a greenhouse, it was time to give some of my plants away. I was quite proud of them, as I'd developed (by sheer accident) several really neat color combinations in the blooming flowers. One, in particular, turned out to be almost white with purple splotches. That's the one I decided to give to my grandma, whose own African violet had died. She cherished her new plant and cared for it daily. Every time I would visit, I'd see new blooms. My grandma loved it when it would bloom, and if the plant looked like it was in trouble, I'd come to the rescue and give it some new dirt, a little TLC, and nurse it back to health.

My grandma kept this violet up until she passed away at the nursing home. I couldn't let the flower go - not when it had been so special. So now it's back in my office at work, enjoying a window and florescent lighting. It stopped blooming for a while, but I was happy to see that it's well on its way to producing more flowers. It must be content.

Most people don't realize that I honestly don't know much about African violets. I've been told they're temperamental, so I must just have a streak of luck. (I tried growing new plants again recently and failed miserably, so I must not remember exactly what I did before.)

Regardless of whether or not I have the know-how, I'm glad that I can now look up and see my African violet...and smile as I think of my grandma.

Fishing Isn't About Fish

I was practically raised holding a fishing pole. Being brought up only a short drive from Lake Ontario, and having an avid fisherman for a father, fishing was quite a major part of my young life. Though never as enthusiastic as my older brother, I still developed my favorite spots to fish, I could tell one kind of fish from another better than some adults, and I had no problem baiting my own hooks or grabbing a wriggling, slimy fish with my bare hands.

As I became an adult, the hobby of fishing was pushed out of the way by other activities. Some years I would get my fishing license, and some years I wouldn’t. The sport was more of a memory than a current interest.

This year, I promised my brother I’d get my license and go fishing with him. So, this past Saturday I once again baited my hook with a live worm and cast into a lake. Granted, it’s a much smaller lake than Lake Ontario, but we make do now that we’re in Iowa.

When I was a kid, the best part of going fishing was climbing on the huge rocks of the pier, making my dad proud by landing a big fish, finding abandoned lures, or braving cold north winds to bring home a bucket full of future suppers. Today, I find myself enjoying the sunshine, just spending time with my brother, soaking up nature, and spotting good scenes to snap pictures. My goal for fishing now isn’t really to catch fish, but to relax and enjoy being outside.

On Saturday, I caught one very small bluegill. That was all. My brother was a bit luckier, catching a nice catfish, which he took home for a meal. But despite my ill luck in catching anything, it was a gorgeous morning, I got to be with my brother, I had a nice long walk to the river, I was able to sit and watch the clouds roll in, take some pictures and listen to rumbling thunder on the walk back through the woods. It was heaven to my senses.

Yes, I still fish. But it means something different to me now than it did when I was a kid.

400 and Counting...

It seems everybody collects something. I'm not sure why we, as humans, are fascinated with certain things enough that we will fill cabinets, shoe boxes, shelves and drawers with items only a few others might actually appreciate. Even when the things collected might be of monetary value, how often are they never sold, simply to keep the collection intact and growing? That in itself is almost more fascinating than the actual items. 

While I have a variety of hobbies, when it comes to collecting, there’s really only one thing that I’ve gone all-out with, and that’s key chains. I love them. For as long as I can remember, I’ve always been intrigued with all the different kinds of mini trinkets hanging from key rings. Something about them just absorbs my interest. When I go on vacation, my first souvenir is almost always a key chain. Some of my favorite gifts? Key chains. In my purse, on my desk, in a box and in my car? Yeah. Key chains. So since I'm this obsessed, I thought I'd share part of my collection with you.

As far as I know, this was my very first key chain.

Not only is it special because it was my first, but it has a lot of sentimental value. I was very young – probably just five or six years old. I can remember sitting on my grandpa’s knee as we played this game, trying to get those little balls into the colored dips. All in blue, or one each in blue, red and yellow. I remember agreeing with him that blue was the hardest (though I don’t know how that’s possible). I’m sure he was better at the game than I was, but it was so much fun. My grandpa died when I was seven, so that’s probably one of the last memories I have of him, and it’s still precious to me.

Since then, my collection has grown to over 400. I have key chains from twenty-five different countries (thanks to missionary friends).

…and from thirty-one different states in the US (even if I haven’t been to all of them myself).

I have key chains that can come in handy, such as mini screwdrivers, scissors and more.

There are some that are in my “favorites” category, even if I’m the only one who knows where they came from.

I’ve got fun key chains that provide entertainment.

Some are cute novelty key chains. (Yes, Mr. Potato Head actually comes apart, and yes, the Etch A Sketch, Magnadoodle and yo-yo work, too.)

Still others are quite old – some of which I’m not sure just how old they are or even where they originally came from, but they’re still cool to me.

I’m not sure if I’ll ever stop adding to my collection…I doubt it. The only problem I have is finding a way to display everything. At the moment, most of my key chains reside in a box…a very full box...which will more than likely soon become two boxes. Of course, on certain days, it’s rather fun to dump it all out on the floor and rediscover old treasures. And besides...if they were all hanging up, I'd have to dust them.

Are you obsessed with certain objects or themes? What do YOU collect?