It's the Most Wonderful Time of the Year!

Have you ever seen a commercial for Staples or Office Depot about selling school supplies? It first came on a couple of years ago and today my heart swells with joy when I think of it.

Swells? Really? For a commercial?

Yep.

You see the father is pushing a cart picking up school supplies and his two kids are trudging along, obviously upset about going back to school. But the Dad, well he is anything but upset. In fact, as he pushes the cart he also dances. The music in the background says it all. It is the song, “It’s the Most Wonderful Time of the Year!”

This is how I feel. My heart is swelling with relief and joy. Noah is safely, wonderfully, FINALLY back at school. Before you go and start calling me Bad Mom, let me assure you I am not alone. Many, many, many parents celebrate with me.

Those days of crying as your little precious enters the world of kindergarten…they are over. I adore Noah and I am so grateful to have a son. But this summer was long. Very, very long in some ways. In other ways, it flew by.

He is in fourth grade and already loves it. I am in my home alone with Scooby, writing away, and I love it. See we are both happy!

It is the most wonderful time of the year!

A Gift from God - My Writing Group!

In January, 2007, a mere one year and eight months ago, I walked into a room at Southeast Community Church in Parker. Greeted immediately by a tall woman with big hair and a big smile, I felt a bit more at ease. I sat down, unsure of myself, but ready to begin a new adventure. Only a month had passed since moving to Colorado. John and Noah and I were welcomed to Denver by two blizzards and several feet of snow outside our condo. Coming from sunny California, we were still in shock. At least I was.

But on this day, the snow was receding. A bit. The sun was shining. A bit more. And I was hopeful that my dream of writing could be spurred on to a new level if I joined a writing group. So it was that I came to be a part of Words for the Journey Christian Writers Guild.

Today I am so thankful for this group of people who love words and who cheer each other on to write for the Creator of Words! In this group, I have been given the tools to improve my craft. In this group, I was handed a list of places to submit my writing. In this group, I had the joy of sharing that I was going to be published for the first time in a Colorado magazine/newspaper called Prairie Times. In this group, I giggled through the thrill of announcing that my writing would be in Chicken Soup for the Tea Lovers Soul.

And in this group, I have stood and announced countless rejections. Each time I do, I get the exact same response as when I get an acceptance. My fellow writers applaud and cheer. They know that it takes courage to submit. A rejection is not a sign of failure, but a sign of that courage it took to hit the send button.

Sharen Watson was our leader but has moved back to Texas to be with family. While she was here, she encouraged me immensely. She gave me courage to keep going and to spread my wings a bit. After I made a flyer to send to MOPS directors to volunteer to be a speaker, I became frozen in fear. I couldn't send it out. No one would want to hear me speak. Or would they?

I approached Sharen and shyly said, "Would you look at this?"

Sharen read it over and exclaimed, "Do it,Robbie! This looks great."

I did. And I was given the honor of speaking for several MOPS groups last year and will speak to even more this year.

Megan, our co-director, authored a novel, Searching for Spice, last year and has another book, Out of Her Hands, coming out in October. Her success has given fuel to my dreams. To see someone go through the process with its ups and downs has been an education in itself for me. I remember so clearly the day Megan taught on finding your voice. It was after listening to her and taking a lot of notes, that I found the confidence to write as me. Not me trying to be another author. Or me trying to be a better me. Just me.

Now Michele leads us and I am so excited to see what God will do in her and through her. Michele is a professional speaker and has already added so much to that part of my calling. This October I am going to go to the Dynamic Communicators Workshop for five days in Colorado Springs to polish my speaking abilities. Michele opened the doors for me to go.

So I am blessed. God called me to write, seriously, a few years ago. When I moved to Denver, He handed me this beautifully wrapped gift for me to use for that calling. He gave me Words for the Journey.

Last night, we started our new year with a meeting at Barnes and Noble. During the meeting, Michele announced two winners for the WFTJ devotional contest. My name was called. Thrilled, I went to the front and accepted my prize. When I got back to my seat, I whispered, "Thank you, Jesus." It wasn't just a prayer for the gift card I won. It wasn't just a prayer for giving me the words to write. It was a whispered prayer of thanksgiving for that beautifully wrapped gift He gave me one year and eight months ago.

Attacking Our Joy

August 21, 2008
I woke up this morning feeling restless and irritable. For a while, I tried to think about it logically. Why was I feeling this way? Had something happened to propel me to stress or anger? No.

My feelings manifested into actions. I got angry with John. I became angrier with Noah. I told Scooby to stay clear of me. When it was time for me to sit outside in the beautiful sunshine, beneath a baby blue sky peppered with gorgeous white clouds and have my quiet time, I put it off. I didn’t want to hang out with God.

Do you ever feel this way? Sometimes it’s physical, absolutely. Sometimes it’s emotional, brought on by circumstances. But as I finally gave in to prayer and sitting at God’s feet, it became clear to me I was under a spiritual attack.

John’s going on a WAAG this weekend. WAAG stands for Weekend Almost Alone with God. It’s a very cool activity that my brother Phil’s ministry Caleb’s Heart does. John is going with 6 to 8 guys up into the Rocky Mountains. The spiritual leader, Robb, will take each man to their own spot in the forest (secluded) and leave them there. For hours. Alone.

The point is to facilitate a time where each man can just be alone with God. No retreat speaker. No manly activity. Just God. For hours. Alone. They get together for meals (I hear the food is phenomenal) and to talk about what they are hearing, but most of the weekend it is just each man alone with God.

This ministry has had a life-changing effect on many men. John warned me on Monday that this week may be a difficult one. The enemy doesn’t want John to go. The enemy doesn’t want John to have a good time. The enemy doesn’t want John to hear God’s love.

Satan has been working on John. Poor guy has had a heck of a week at work. Things have broken, tempers have flared and John has had to stay late several nights. Talk about stress. But John has persevered and comes home at night, still proclaiming God is the One. He doesn’t actually walk into the house and yell, “God is the One!” or do anything churchy or super-spiritual. But in his prayers before dinner and at bedtime, I hear his sacrifice of praise. I hear his faith. I see it when he doesn’t come home angry or nervous, ready to be shnappy with me or Noah.

So, what does the enemy do? He attacks John’s wife. It would’ve been soooo easy to skip my quiet time this morning. So easy. I wasn’t in the mood at all. It would’ve been sooo easy just to stay put in the restlessness and irritability. But for me and my house, we are praising the Lord.

Barbara Johnson who wrote Stick a Geranium in your Hat and be Happy said, “We all have seen dreams turn to ashes – ugly things, hopeless experiences – but beauty for ashes is God’s exchange. Offer yourself to God and ask for a spirit of praise so your whole being will be restored.”

I say, “God is the One!” in faith. I don’t feel much better. Restlessness is still lurking. But the feelings will change and God will restore my joy. I know He will. That’s His job.

John is going to have a wonderful time at WAAG. If not, why would Satan be on our backs?

PS - So my blog's date is broken! Anyone know how I can fix it?

Is there anything else on?

“It’s two weeks every four years. Quit your whining.”

This is what my beloved husband says to me every time I have inquired about channel surfing the past week.

Is it un-American not to enjoy the Olympics? Am I a Commie?

If being American means valuing materialism then I am red, white and blue! I want another TV! A while back, John and I made a decision that we only needed one TV in the house. Having more TVs breaks up the family and there are only three of us.

I agreed. Silly me.

Now I am stuck watching every kind of rowing or skulling or whatever it is, sword-fighting, (I know it is called something else) diving and volleyball. Whenever I suggest to John that he doesn’t like or ever, ever, ever watch these sports in real life, he looks at me, scowls and says, “It’s two weeks every four years. Quit your whining.”

Now I will admit to loving two sports. Women’s gymnastics. Go Shawn Johnson! And swimming. I don’t know anyone who doesn’t recognize the name Michael Phelps. I let Noah stay up late the other night to watch the 8th gold medal race. We couldn’t help but cheer and give each other high fives.

Noah just finished a summer of swim team. He loved it. And sure enough, the other night he looked at John and me, quite soberly, and asked, “In 2016 I will be 17. Is that old enough to try out for the Olympics?”

After we said yes, he added. “I think I can beat Michael Phelps’ record.”

I love the Olympics and Michael Phelps for that. Inspiring 9-year-olds to dream and work for their dreams, well, that is worth the two weeks.

Yesterday evening I noticed John was watching Star Trek. I felt somehow vindicated that I had caught him being real and not some fake fanatical sports freak who has to watch every minute of those games in order to be American.

“Aha!” I said. “You are tired of it all, aren’t you?”

I smiled in victory.

He looked at me, scowled and pointed the remote to the TV. He flipped it to NBC and I saw that the local news was on.

I looked back at my beloved.

He said, “It’s two weeks every four years. Quit your whining.”

Rambling Writing is Good for the Soul

“Ramblin’, Ramblin’, Rambling,
Keep those doggies rambling,
I write!”

My introduction to the tune of Rawhide may give you an indication of my mood. I am all over the place today. Silly, sad, energetic and downright pooped.

Let me ramble a bit to take the edge off. For me, this is better than strong drink.

My friend Kay suggested I try Indian food. I have never been one to try new foods. Just not interested in that kind of cultural experience. I ate some Russian cuisine when I traveled there in the early 90’s. Besides that, I stay away from the grilled snake and the Thai curry and the Japanese sushi. But Kay’s powers of persuasion got me to thinking that I should go for it. So on Tuesday I went to an Indian restaurant and had a little of everything on their buffet. I liked it. I enjoy a good sizzle.

But then…my body communicated to me all day long that although I may enjoy Indian food, Indian food does not enjoy my body. Enough said, right?

Oh well.

Last Friday night I went to my buddy Michal’s house and watched a new Anita Renfro DVD she’d bought called, “It’s Probably my Thyroid.” Anita is a Christian comedienne who is absolutely fun-nay! Her take on life gets you giggling and I especially enjoyed her routine about the thyroid gland and its peculiarities, because I, like so many other woman, have a bum thyroid.

My troubles with the dear gland started in 1985 when I gained 40 pounds in 3 months. I had no idea what was happening to me. Since then, I have taken a pill every day. Gets old, but so do I.

Well, a few months ago, I started gaining weight and feeling real tired. Went to the doctor and sure enough, my thyroid needed more oomph through medication. The last four or five months I have gone to the lab once a month, seen the doctor once a month and made changes to my medication. I have gone from dangerously low to significantly low to just a bit abnormally low.

Yesterday I went in to see the doctor and guess what? I am too high. Yep, that’s right. And because of that, I have had a type of insomnia for about a month.

I am fit to be tied. That’s a cool expression by the way. I am angry as a hornet’s nest. Another good cliché.

Now I must lower the dosage, come back in another month and see how it’s all going.

Oh well.

Why is it that doctors and nurses now-a-days use computers and not a big ole file of your history? Maybe that’s just my doctor’s office but instead of asking you questions and writing down the answers, they put all the info into a little laptop. I hate it because they spend most of your appointment looking at the screen and not you. Makes me wonder if they aren’t finishing up a game of Spider Solitaire while I recite my aches and woes.

The big folder comforted me. When my doctor walked into the examination room with it, I felt he carried my history in his hands and therefore a little connection to all that is Robbie.

Now I just watch him play Doctor Pac Man. I shoot him my info and he uses it like ammunition to kill whatever monster is on the screen.

Oh well.


And one more thing while I am rambling down rose lane into your hearts. Not long after I started this blog, I signed up for a thing that counts the number of people who visit my blog. It also tells when they visited and where they are from. Well, shortly after I installed this site meter counter, I noticed that one person was visiting me quite often. In fact, the person from Clarksville, Tennessee visited almost every day and sometimes many times a day.

At first, I was flattered. Then I started wondering just who this might be. Finally, I decided that Clarksville was my blog stalker. Concern came. I began going into my past and assigning names to Clarksville based on the people I have offended. I settled on one. My thoughts about this person grew from curiosity to resentment. Why didn’t she just leave me alone? Should I address her? No, she will lose interest. But after a couple of more months, Clarksville’s visitation was as consistent as always.

Finally, I spoke my concerns to my friend Loretta. What should I do? She had no suggestions, but something occurred to her.

“You know, Robbie, I, too, have someone from Clarksville, Tennessee that frequents my blog.”

“She must have gotten the link to your blog from mine.”

“Let’s try something, Robbie. Go to my blog right now.”

I did.

“Robbie, when you visited my blog, I got a visitor from Clarksville, Tennessee."

"Wow. What a coincidence that she visited you at the exact same time as I did."

Loretta gave me a look. "Robbie. One plus one equals?"

It hit me.

"The device I'm using to hook up to the internet must be from Clarksville."

Mystery solved! I felt foolish. Even a little sad. It was exciting for a while to have a fan so dedicated. But alas, no. No stalker. Just me. :0)

Oh well.

On the positive side of life, and there is always one if you think about it, I am enjoying writing, my family is all healthy and happy, my sister comes to see me in 3 weeks :0) and I am blessed to serve a God who puts up with my rambling writing and who loves me completely!

Go ahead...Make your own list!

I am thankful today. It’s not the fourth Thursday in November. No near death experiences that have made me grateful to be alive. I am just thankful.

So today, on the old blog, I am going to make a gratitude list. Hopefully you will get nudged in your heart and make your own. It opens up sunshine in dark skies and gives perspective when you can’t see farther than your own nose.

Here goes:

John’s peace – My husband’s temperament and trust in God come together to form this wonderful rock for me to lean on when my emotional mind twirls in circles.

Noah’s joy – His laughter is the best sound. The best.

Scooby’s loyalty – He likes me, he really likes me! :0)

Summer – the warmth, the sun, the chance to have the windows open all day.

Phil, Lory and Hunter – I get to live near some family. I am blessed.

Perry and fam and Karen and fam – my other sibs are just a call away.

Sarah, my stepdaughter – just cause she is who she is.

JoJo and Nanny – the most consistent givers I have ever met!

My writing friends who guide me, cheer for me and encourage me to write for an
Audience of One.

New friends – Denver friends!

Old friends – San Diego friends.

Lory and the Monday night Beth Moore Bible study – I have learned so much the last 10 weeks or so on how to guard my heart and keep it healthy for God.

Jubilee Fellowship Church and Pastor John Leech – I am so blessed to go to a church that serves up a banquet of spiritual food every week.

Moments of total joy this summer while hanging out with Noah.

Moments that taught me patience and perseverance this summer while
hanging out with Noah.

Good health. YES!

A car that runs.

A big wonderful bathtub.

My laptop.

Creativity and writing.

An agent who is pulling for me!

The joy of just being me.

And of course, not to sound too Sunday School-ish – Jesus! I cannot imagine a life without my Best Friend, my Lord, my Savior, the One who guides, my Rock, my Deliverer, my Redeemer, God of all Grace!

So there you have it! I am thankful.

Did you feel a nudge?

Go ahead and jot down a list and watch your heart grow two sizes bigger.

You Draw Us After You (My 100th Post!)

My nephew Justin is a book lover and when we get together, our conversations always include what we have been reading. He recommended to me Dave Eggers A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius. I just recommended to him Cormac McCarthy’s The Road. It is delightful to have book friends. Last time we got together, he gave me the book Women, Men and Spiritual Power by John W. Coakley. It is a study of women, most considered saints, from 1100 to 1400 who wrote powerful messages describing and teaching the revelations God had given them. During that time, women were second class and divine insights from their gender proved suspicious. So, the church often assigned men to interpret and sometimes rewrite the essays of the women saints.

This book is filled with the writings of nine of those women and the nine men who were paired with them. I have just started it but can already sense that it will be full of golden nuggets of wisdom for my writing and me.

Gilbert of Gemblox wrote the first quote in the introduction to Hildegard of Bingenin 1175. His words moved me, a twenty-first century woman writer.

“When you come out from the cells of contemplation where the eternal king has so often brought you as his bride, your fruitfulness for us is something better than wine of the fragrance of the finest perfumes. For it is then that, through your writings, you make us partakers of the visions of holy things that you saw with unveiled face when you were in the embrace of your bridegroom. Running along quickly amid the fragrance of your perfumes, you draw us after you.”

I love this. When I read those words, it’s as if the Spirit spoke to my soul in inexpressible groanings (Romans 8:26), challenging me and encouraging me. The fruitfulness, the fragrance of Hildegard’s words were birthed in the cells of contemplation. Because she spent time alone with her groom, the God of all wonder, her words bore His fragrance. And the smell of God and His mercy is one that we all walk toward, whether we admit it or not.

Hildegard drew others after her because of Him.

My heart is filled with the longing to draw others after me to Him. What a joy, a privilege, an honor, and a delight it is to be able to communicate the love of God through words. But first, first I must spend time with Him. I must sit in His lap and feel His arms of unconditional love. First, I must sit at His feet and listen. Listen. Just shut up and listen. First, I must take the time to contemplate, ponder and meditate on His Scriptures.

Then and only then can I walk to my computer as His bride, ready to tell of the Lord’s joy in my life.

A word to my writer friends. Let us take time, each of us, to be with God and fall in love with Him. Let us take more time in listening to His words than coming up with our own. Let us run after Christ and then watch in humility and awe as others follow.