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I’m Here – OCW 2012
Packing should not be done the way it was today. Lately, time is a precious commodity, and like gold, I have very little. The consequence is a suitcase stuffed with almost every outfit I own. No order, no plan. I have no idea what I’ll be wearing tomorrow.
But…I have arrived at the 2012 OCW Summer Coaching Conference. Despite the heat, everything is wonderful. The location is beautiful. The instructors are knowledgeable and enthusiastic. And I remembered my curling iron this year. Big cheer for that one!
I’m thrilled to reconnect with wonderful people, learn, and hopefully not melt. The temperature is expected to be in the 90s all week. For Oregonians, that’s hot!
And the big Nelson news…We signed those pesky refinance papers today! Yes, I know that is not writing related, but we’ve been in this process since March. Bravo to my financially savvy husband.
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Writing for the Fame of it?
Funny, huh? Seriously…How many writers would you recognize if they walked by you? If I wasn’t a writer, I think my answer would be somewhere around four, maybe five. And really, I think that’s higher than average. Correct me if I’m wrong.
I often read Rachelle Gardner’s blog. Her “Why Pursue Publishing” post really got me thinking. Why do I pursue publishing? It is definitely NOT for the fame.
As with many who commented on that post, I think affirmation is a major reason I seek publication. I work hard. This isn’t just a fun way to pass the extra minutes while I wait for kids to finish at practice, or an excuse to delegate the dishes.
Writing is tough. It keeps me up at night pondering how a character will react to what I have in store for them. It puts a dent in my shoulder where I sling my giant laptop case, often causing me to walk like I’m in the Crooked Man’s house. Do you have any idea how much stress comas add to my life?
But it’s more than affirmation.
For me, it’s the chance to allow a reader to be lost in a story for 300 plus pages, and emerge at the end with a renewed sense of hope.
And…I don’t think I could stop if I wanted to.
Questions:
If you’re a writer, why do you write?
If you’re a reader, what do you want from a book?
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How We Became Redneck Ranchers
Question: What’s worse than a child running into the house yelling that the steers are out?
Answer: A child running into the house yelling that the steers are GONE!
That’s how we were greeted not too long ago. Of course, it was a morning where we had somewhere to be.
Inspection of the steer pen revealed that they had broken a board leaving a gaping hole. And…the feed from the night before was still there. They must have made their escape soon after feeding time. Twelve hours is a very long time to wander. Visions of the beasts marching through town made my stomach twist.
We scoured the property for any sign.
They’d been in the garden. My broccoli…Gone!
To our great relief it seemed they’d headed for the west end of the property. Hundreds of acres would come between them and civilization.
Our oldest son took off running, the younger son took the quad, oldest daughter saddled the horse, and the youngest hopped in the truck with us.
Behind our property dirt roads twist around poking out here and there into various field. So many routes they could have taken. What a wonderful sound to hear one of the kids scream that they’d spotted them!
There they were, on a narrow path near the river. My oldest son haltered one, and we began the long walk home.
With the steers back home (I think they were happy to be back too), we repaired the fence and moved on with the day.
Wouldn’t you know it, they broke out again only few days later. My husband only had time for a quick repair because the sun was setting.
This is what I saw the next morning:
Yes, that is a Suburban blocking the hole. Classy, huh?
The fence is REALLY fixed now. On to other adventures.
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Beginnings Gone Bad
The other day, my oldest daughter came in from feeding the steers with a surprise. Deep in the bottom of the bucket she carried was a tiny bird. He chirped and flopped, opening his beak until it became a waiting funnel for food. With only a tiny bit of fuzz on his head and bottom, there was no way we could identify what kind of bird he was.
This is the best picture I could get with my limited photography skills Somehow this little guy ended up on the dirt road between our house and barn. There are no trees on this route and my daughter couldn’t find a nest anywhere. How did he get there? We’ll never know.
In our area we have a wonderful resource for circumstances like this. We took the bird to the wildlife center where they will care for him and help him grow into the bird he was made to be. While we waited for a worker to come to the door, we met a woman and her son. They had brought in a baby chipmunk. I’d never seen one this small. What a cute little critter.
So, I’ve been thinking about the bird. We’ll call today and see how he’s doing. But what I’ve been pondering is the birds beginning. Circumstances weren’t too good when he found himself alone on a road with no way to keep himself warm or feed himself, but along came my daughter with her caring heart.
The world is full of people who had rough beginnings, but that doesn’t mean the story will end tragically. God heals broken hearts. He restores lives.
