Tag Archive: writing


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31 days?
I wasn’t sure I could do it.
31 days?
Did I have enough to say for 31 days?

31 days…..?

It seemed so daunting at first.
Scary.
Huge.
Too much.

31 days….?

Of writing,
Of sharing,
Of reading,
Of reflecting.

It seemed huge.
It seemed too much.
I’m so busy I meet myself coming and going.
I’m so busy;  how could I ever accomplish such a thing?

I’m so busy.
….for 31 days.

So busy being blown away by the experience.
So busy being enriched by the posts I’ve read.
So busy being stopped in my own moments.

Forced to be still,
To reflect,
To think,
To BE.

So here I am.
At the end of 31 days.
31 days…!
Each a little different.
Each it’s own flavor slice.
Each a reflection of who I am, where I am, how I am.

I set my goal.
I held my breath.
I jumped right in…
And wrote.

…for 31 days!

Then sings my soul…..

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Found this treasure today and it made me think
Maybe I was born for this…

A ponderer of thoughts
With a way for words.
A student of the world around us
With a penchant for the click of the keys.

Starting young.
Books and songs in the lap of my mom.
And this.
Definitely this.

Another of my treasures is my dad’s old steamer desk where he wrote oh, so many words.
It is huge
And heavy
And goes with nothing.

Nothing, that is,
Except my heart,
And the words that pour forth from it.

Then sings my soul….

Happiness is….

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This!
This entire stack of papers —
21 sets of 26 lines of fabulousness.

Fabulousness because these kids are taking chances.
These kids are thinking.
They are planning.
They are sharing.
They are WRITING.

And more than that,
They are WRITERS!

And not just any writers….
But double-stuff writers who think deeply and share what’s on their 9 year old hearts.

6 weeks ago, these kiddos didn’t write.
They couldn’t.
They didn’t feel safe…

But now?
In the parodied words of Chombawamba….

We’re here to write.
And then we’ll write again.
There’s nothing gonna bring us down.
We’re here to write.

Writing the day away…..

Then sings my soul.

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Next week, 4th graders across the great state of Texas will take a test of ridiculous proportions.
It’s the Writing STAAR and there are people out there who honestly believe it measures the knowledge and know-how of our kiddos.

If only they knew —

What the kids go home to,
What they witness,
The challenges they face…

But also (and more importantly) —

The twinkle in his eye when he tells a silly joke,
The warmth of her hug when she greets you Monday morning,
The light bulb moments,
The wonderings,
The laughter.

And so,
This week before the test,
We go to Camp Write Along!

Nothing is the same at school.
We rally.
We sing.
We play games.

And we write.

We write… a lot!

But, first we sing.
To the tune of Tub Thumping:
“We’re here to write! And then we’ll write again.  There’s nothing gonna hold us back!”

And then we use Oreos as metaphors for good writing:

Oreos Thins?
Bare minimum…I mean, the basics are there, but who wants to read that?

Original Oreos?
That’s better!  The intro and conclusion (cookies) are more filled out and really frame things for the reader.
But something’s missing…

Ah, Double Stuff!!!
Now we’re talking!
Still have the strong intro/conclusion,  but now they frame something more! Something powerful and important because it’s the story of our writers!

And so — this week before the STAAR…
We write.
But we also sing,
And we play.
But most importantly we live and laugh.

And eat — I mean WRITE — good double-stuffed Oreo writing!

Then sings my soul….

Carrying Their Love on my Hands

This morning — and every morning — as I got dressed and ready to head out the door,  I stopped and gave praise and thanksgiving as I put on my rings.

This is nothing unusual….

But also this morning,  I received a private message asking about musings  I’d shared about said rings via post several years ago.

Wow!  This slice of my life had resonated and echoed and she wanted to use it in a Sunday School lesson…..

Wow-er, still!!!

As a writer,  this was a tremendous moment…. 

Aside from a brief dabble into the world of blogging in 2012-13, my writing has been confined to Facebook posts of the things on my heart and in my day….

I know I have a history of oversharing.
I know I can be a bit much.
I know…..

But she REMEMBERED something I’d written!
And that felt good.

Of course, I have no idea when I wrote that piece or how I might find it back again…

But (also of course) I had no problem sharing again the story of my rings.

What follows is the response to her request:

I’m so honored.
While I have no idea how to find that post back again,  I have that same feeling every single moment as I get ready for the day.

Every morning,  as I reach for my rings I feel the love of those from and for  whom each piece became a part of me.

I start with my wedding ring.
It was my husband’s mother’s before it was mine.
It stands not only for the commitment between my husband and myself, but also serves as a connection to his beloved Mom who passed away not long before we started dating.
Although we never had the chance to meet,  I feel her love, approval and blessing each time I put it on.
On the same hand,  I wear my James Avery Mother’s Love ring — a gift from my children — the beat of my heart.
And so “armed” with the love of my immediate family,  I am almost ready to head out into the world….
But not quite….

On my right hand,  I have a little more variety from day to day.
The constant is the small pinky ring my grandfather gave to my grandmother on their 40th  anniversary.   It’s a simple silver cross – and each time I slide it on my finger, I feel not only their love,  but also the love of our Heavenly Father.
Beside it, on my ring finger,  the options rotate to match my mood and my attire.
Sometimes it’s my grandmother’s turquoise ring.   Sometimes it’s the simple ring I bought for myself on the day my daughter overcame a particularly scary illness as a babe.
Sometimes it’s the wavy ring that makes me think of the waves of my beloved ocean….

But always,  it’s something.

And always,  I feel myself moving forward into the world armed in the strength of those who went before me,  those who stand beside me now,  and always,  always,  always, the blessing of God above.

Thank you for remembering and bringing this simple blessing back to the forefront of my thinking and my heart.

Then sings my soul…..

“I love your poems,” they said.

“You find poetry in the simplest things,” they said.

“Look at that. Another one,” they said.

“You’ve such a poet’s heart,” they said.

These things as Facebook comments??!!
WHAT??!!?

I never set out to write a poem.
That’s never been my intention.

I’d not thought of myself as a poet.
Not ever.
Not once.
Nada.
Nope.

But then I stopped…
And I thought.
And I read.
And I realized.

Yes.

It is poetry that flows from my fingertips.
Poetry that flows from my heart.
Poetry….
A direct line from my soul to the screen or the page.

And that’s so wild.
So completely and totally wild.

It’s not who I ever thought I would be.
But here I am…
And it’s me.

I think, not in paragraphs, but in stanzas.
I write, not in prose, but in verse.
I think…. I feel…. I dream….

(Oh! How I dream….)

And this, I believe, is why.

The more life I live, the more I come to see and to know
The power of the pause.

For life – the real magic and beauty of life – is in the pauses,
The dashes,
The ellipses….

Life is what happens BETWEEN the words.
BETWEEN the comments.
BETWEEN the lines.

Life is that single glorious moment when the sun splits open the sky at dawn.
It’s that split-second when the sun disappears over the horizon at dusk.
It’s the light in a baby’s eyes when Momma walks in the room.
It’s the flutter of the hummingbird’s wings.
It’s the newborn calf at it’s mother’s utter – it’s face covered in milk.

It’s the moments.
The pauses.
The seconds.
The frames frozen in time – in our mind’s eye – as we stop.

We stop.
And we notice.

We pause.

And if the pause is right…
It becomes a poem.

Whether we meant it to or not.

I never set out to write a poem….
Instead, poetry found me.

And, oh!
Then sings my soul….