What We Think vs. What Is, Plus Tea

Dear People,

I admired her. I wanted her to like me. I hoped we’d be friends.

And–I was fairly sure she didn’t think anything at all about me.

That lady was busy doing important things that I liked being part of even if on the fringe. She might not have known my first and/or last name.

I attempted a conversation or two. I doubted my spoken words connected to her brain.

Isn’t that how it goes sometimes? We like someone. We share similar ideas with them. They do work we think is cool. We are confident they have zero interest in getting to know us.

Years later she calls me. Wha…wha…what?

She wants to meet at a restaurant.

So I go.

And it turns out she likes my brain too.

She has been reading my blog and asks me to help her think through a couple things.  Then she asks me to pray for her weekly in the months ahead as she works on a project.

I say…ok.

Like, O and K together softly, genuinely.

Before agreeing I took a few seconds to think about whether I could fit her request into my life. Which, I gotta say, is one of my most grown up moments. To consider if I could make time for something new, to think about if I could honor her and my word, ah, yes, that is an adult moment for me.

Connection isn’t always obvious, dear readers. Sometimes less is more. We don’t have to force anything. Be present. Be kind. Carry on. Don’t compromise. Be you. Things come around if they are meant to be.

This example gives me hope that a relationship with a literary agent will come into my life too. It’s happened for others. It will happen for me too. I’ve written two novels in three years (dog gone it) while in the midst of serious life changes.

The pressure is on and off at the same time. My coal is being pressed. I’m learning all I can about who might be my #DreamAgent. It will happen. I know you’re out there.

Until then I am sipping Hot Cinnamon Spice tea on a Sunday morning. I’ve learned that quality tea and taking time to breathe is valuable. I’m putting my mug out there and wishing peace for you and your dreams too.

Love,

Glenna

 

Put It In The Bear Box

I could not physically go on. After walking sunrise to sunset miles down a mountain and then miles back up, I was d-o-n-e done.

In fact, I was not sure I could make it from the large rock where I sat to where we were supposed to pitch tents for the night. My feet felt as if each toe was on fire.

SunFloJo [trail name] returned from scouting the campsite while the group of us stayed with the backpacks and overnight equipment.

I confessed, “I don’t think I can do this another day. It is your dream to hike all week and you should not miss the chance. I’m slowing you down, and I’ve thought it through. I absolutely will be fine if you leave me behind. I’ve got a book. And I am sure I’ll be safe. You must go on without me.” I even carried a fairly lethal knife that my oldest son insisted I have in my pocket during the trip. Whether bears or other probs, I would be fine. My biggest challenge would be disappointment in myself as I watched the other women leave me behind.

I gauged her facial expression to be a mix of “so true that you are slowing us down and yet no, I can’t leave you alone“.

I hobbled to camp and collapsed for a while as daylight slipped into night sky.

My mind spun around options regarding what to do next. I felt beyond grateful to no longer have a sweaty back and backpack attached. The group ate and laughed.

We placed food or items that might cause animal smell curiosity into a bear box.

The bear box was a new concept for me. I marveled at its purpose and convenience. To prepare for the trip we had brought a bear bag and rope to place items away from us and up a tree. This night, though, we had the fancy metal box.  It felt like we had a community chest of drawers out in the woods. I appreciated the safety and kindness of the bear box.

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One Benadryl later, I fell asleep too tired to wonder what that scurry sound was swishing by my single person tent.

Birds became my alarm clock that week. I lay thinking hard about what it would take to continue the trail.

What if half of what I had been carrying simply stayed behind in the bear box? Could we swing back by this place at the end of the week when we have access to a car again?

Long story short, that is what we did. Everyone, especially me, lightened our load. The bear box held the burden. I dared to lace up hiking boots again and head back to the trail knowing the next stop did not have the convenience of a bear box.  The next stop we planned to be much deeper in the woods.  I didn’t want to miss the next level challenge.

The bear box has become a mental metaphor for me when times are tough.  What can I leave behind for now?  What do I need to deal with today, tonight, and leave the rest for later?

In many ways, the bear box represented my faith during that trip.

Best wishes to you this week. If you can’t carry the burden, feel free to stick it in the metaphorical bear box for now.

Love,

Glenna

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Matthew 11:28-30 28“Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. 29Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. 30For my yoke is easy and my burden is light.”

 

I love you, Ariel Gore

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She showed up for me.

We never met in person, but her words knew me.  I feel my face smile chapter after chapter of Ariel Gore’s book How to Become a Famous Writer Before You’re Dead.  My eyes enlarge and my head nods each page turn.

Is this what it’s like when a writer encourages the deep inner being of another writer?

Yes.

Ariel,  thank you.

Around page 79 an unexpected tear escapes and a memory flashes through my brain.  I remember the day no one showed up.  Not a soul.  Every other college student had parents, grandparents, maybe aunts and uncles too.  Dang.

The ceremony is held in a red brick colonial style building with tall windows trimmed in white.  The large room has plenty of chairs, food that I am too scared to touch, and lemonade that I dare to enjoy.  I am thirsty.  My writing professors say hello and are pulled away because other people’s people want to meet them.  I find a seat in an empty row on a green cushioned chair with a straight backrest made of metal painted white.

While today that scene cuts me a bit, I assure you that on the actual day I am joyful and feel justice is about to be announced.  I am 22 years old and delighted.

“This year’s Best Graduating Senior Writer goes to…Glenna S. Edwards for her submission Bertha.”

I make my way to receive the certificate and $500 check.  Only on rewind do I remember the surprised audience members whose faces turn to question that the alone girl is a winner.  The money is a bonus compared to the certificate that I want most.  I need someone to say I am a good writer.  And they do out loud and on paper.  Boom!

This was the vengeance I longed for because four years earlier at a smaller scale spring time writers event, no one said anything.

That was high school.  Back when I participate in many extracurriculars, but the only award I ever hope for is the Golden Pen award.  A plaque hangs in the English department where the new winner’s name will be engraved.

Sitting in the cafeteria listening for the announcement, my 18-year-old mind practices being a good loser.  The only other candidate who might win deserves the prize too.  I will remain kind and congratulate her then run home to lament.

I also practice remaining calm and gracious if I do win.  I will not jump up and down though my legs may try to betray me.

The other possible winner may throw a fit.  She has a reputation.  She has publicly wailed sometimes when things did not go her way.  I try to remember her personal story about how her mom didn’t know she was pregnant until she went to the hospital for extreme food poisoning but came home with a baby.  For reasons I do not fully understand while in my youth, her tale helps me be patient with Miss Could-Make-A-Scene.

The teacher says into the microphone, “Thank you for coming tonight.  This concludes our evening.”

What?!  They must have forgotten.  I see the other candidate ask about the Golden Pen.  The teacher pretends not to hear.  We all go home never to know exactly why the 1990 Golden Pen is not awarded.

My adult self has multiple guesses why 1990 was skipped.  And I remain thankful 1994 happened.

To my writer friends, read Ariel Gore’s book How To Become A Famous Writer Before You’re Dead.  It is encouragement served all you can eat buffet style.

To be fair to those who knew me in 1994, I didn’t know to ask for representation.  I realize now why the obvious choices didn’t jump at the chance.  Me becoming a writer terrified blue-collar adults around me.

To Ariel, I promise never to use the word p_ _ _ _ _ _ _ mentioned on page 82.  I get it.

Much love & peace to all readers & dreamers.  oxox

Signature GSE

I’ll Tell You First

I ponder who to call.

The friend who will cheer for the dream despite disappointment?  The problem solving friend?  The friend who will wallow in the sadness with me for a few minutes?  The friend who will say what I want to hear?

Stars are visible in the night sky.  I drive silent.  The Holy Spirit touches my heart and I sense a, “How about you tell Me first?”

This leads me to ask myself, How many times do I tell God last?  

Answer:  Often.

This time I choose differently.  I turn off the car and sit in the driveway to converse with our Creator before approaching the threshold into house chores, next day work prep, mom, wife, and caregiver roles.

Dear God,

The publisher that stayed in touch since June and seemed to seriously consider my manuscript finally sent the decision email.  I’m sad, Lord.  She’s passing.  I really thought she was the person to take next steps with me.  Please show me what to do going forward.  I surrender to Your will for this book.  Amen.”

One thing I’ve learned especially in the last two years is that every time I am perplexed the best choice is to surrender.  Immediately.

What to do will become clear soon.  For now I will be still and listen.

Exodus 14:14. The LORD will fight for you; you need only to be still.

Love,

Signature GSE

 

Put The Dream Out There

What is the dream or idea that rolls around in your head?

This week I had an opportunity to present on the topic Developing Youth Led Prevention (of substance abuse primarily).  I got to know my audience by asking key “show of hands” questions and then shared a tool kit of my favorite go-to resources.

I dared to add to the list an equation I created based on years of successful Prevention work.  I call it the Edwards’ Effectiveness Formula.  The self doubt part of me wondered if I have any right to apply math to social entrepreneur work.  Who am I anyway?!  And then my more confident side thought about how people often ask me how I retain young people in our programs, how we accomplish community improvement tasks year after year which led me to think, Why not?!

With my hands in the air like I just don’t care I shared the formula:

E = R (EB/F)

Or, said in detail, Level of Effectiveness equals Evidence Based Program divided by Fidelity times Quality of Relationship(s).  Each of these variables can be measured and are, I find, an essential part of the process when working with young people.  I was open with attendees that it’s a theory I’m testing.  When I saw multiple people start scribbling notes in response to the reveal, I knew that the formula made sense to them too.  It was a cool moment of risk and reward.

What is the dream you would battle nerves to share in a room of 75 or more people?

Let’s say the dreams out loud.  I’ll tell you mine:

  1. Publish book Surrender on the Trail.
  2. Speak with women at events across the country.
  3. Publish another book called Martha’s Daughter.
  4. Go to grad school.
  5. Live in a country with an education system that supports the whole child including positive mental health and life resiliency skills.

Please share your dream(s) too.  I’d love to hear from the waves of your heart!

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What You Do Matters button is from the DC Holocaust Museum. Artist button is from Sparklezilla.com.

 

 

 

In About A Year…

She energizes me every time we are together.

We make a plan of attack.  We let go of stress.  We choose to focus on our project and nothing beyond the scope of that project.  We slash 12-15 occupied hours from our week to make this happen.  This is bold and brave in my tangled world.  This is unpaid time to create something bigger, better, broader.  This choice frees our minds and invites creative space.

We have been so busy delivering the service that we miss consistent time to compile, gather, and finish content for the workshop series.  We’ve done the research.  Now we write what we’ve wanted to complete for three years.  More youth and children can have access to the opportunity in upcoming days when we hit pause so we can adjust our work.  As a different friend says, “Sometimes you need to take a minute.”

We pick a date for our next meeting and hit the bi-weekly calendar repeat button.  It feels good to be with a fellow creative person.  And she’s so smart.  She’s done the surrender work in her own life.  She is at peace.  I want peace.

Back in the car I think, In about a year we’re going to meet our goal.  Maybe in six months!

My car rattles.  I make my way to the highway, then catch myself.  No.  Not in a year.  Not in 6 months.  We will do the work and it will happen as it happens.  This project will unfold as it is meant to be.

I will not force it.

I will surrender to the process.

I will do my part of the work and we will see the reveal in time.

I pray, Show me the way.

I am a planner who can also be spontaneous.  I get hung up in the goal setting and walk in circles around the straight line that would be the easiest route.  I make things harder.  Not this time.

Make me a new vessel, Lord.  Guide my path.  Not my will, but Yours.  I don’t want my work-all-night-to-meet-a-deadline mode of operation.  No.  Not this time.

And so, the project begins with fresh air and a relaxed attitude.

       Proverbs 37:7 Rest in the LORD and wait patiently for Him; Do not fret….

In about a year…  We will diligently do the work with an open mind and see what happens.  I will rest when it’s time to rest and I will work when it’s time to work.

Does this make sense to other artists/writers out there?  Does surrender lead to a better way through life’s path?  I welcome your thoughts.

Pictures from the Cincinnati Nature Center on 9/17/18.  I was there for a training event.  The instructor gave us time to explore.  I saw deer, frogs, turtles, and I watched the leaves begin their seasonal descent.

God bless you,

Signature GSE

3 Easy Ways to Help Writers

Writers need you.

Publishers are attracted to writers who have a platform.  A simplified definition of platform is a group of readers who follow an author’s work.  You, the reader, have a lot of power.  

Being an author might seem glamorous, but the writing process is more about consistent hard work than glam especially in a meme generating world.  New writers can be wide-eyed when they learn that writing well may not be enough.  Some give up on their soul’s calling.  Some have to write.  It is in their DNA.  Great writers carry on in their creative space, but they need a team to be successful.lavendar harvest

Are you a helpful person?  If so, here are tips to keep your favorite writers moving forward:

  1. Click the follow or subscribe button on the writer’s blog.  Help their number of blog followers increase.  Q: Ugh, will I get email notifications of blog posts?  A: Likely.  You can read your favorite authors diligently or create a rule in your email so that certain emails auto file into a designated folder.  You know you’ve been wanting to [learn how to] set up email rules anyway!
  2. Follow and like your writer’s social media pages:  Facebook, Instagram, Twitter, Pinterest, etc.  Help their numbers grow.  Go wild and invite other friends to like them too.  Listen Linda*, every follow helps.  Also, every like, retweet, comment or share kicks off algorithms that help other people in your area of the country or with your similar interests get to know your author also.  You are their champion.
  3. Read your author’s stuff.  You are sunshine for a writer’s growth as an artist.  Supporting writers is like being a cheerleader with pom poms made of “like” buttons.  Stretch goal:  contact your author and offer to be on their book launch team when the time arrives!  Book launch team members help get reviews out early about new books.  Best sellers seem like overnight miracles, but it is readers like you and book launch team members who make those miracles happen.

Peace,

Signature GSE

@GlennaSEdwards on Twitter

GlennaSEdwardsAuthor on Facebook

*footnote:  “Listen Linda” is my all time favorite YouTube video.  😉

 

 

Capacity

I love to learn, especially about human behavior and social change.  The toughest human subject for me to observe, though, is me.  Learning about reasons for my own behavior, habits, and struggles is the hardest set of knots to untie.

There are things we understand logically in our mind long before we accept the same logic in our heart.  Lately the word capacity rolls around in my head like an old-fashioned marble.

I am the gal who didn’t finish Lysa Terkeurst’s book The Best Yes: Making Wise Decisions In The Midst Of Endless Demands, which is really about how to say no.  I probably didn’t finish because I said yes to something and put the book aside.  I also didn’t finish the book Boundaries: When To Say Yes How To Say No And Take Control Of Your Life by Dr. Henry Cloud & Dr. John Townsend.  I am a book finisher.  So, the fact that I didn’t finish reading either book may point to pattern.  Uh, yes.

The pattern goes all the way back to a 6th grade Happy Gram where the teacher wrote about me “she always does more than necessary to create excellent work.”  While that felt good at the time, now I’m not sure that was the happiest of words.

I am at a crossroads where I wish I had more to give when I have given more than I had.

So, I began saying no to projects last week.  I said no to projects I normally would be honored to complete.  Right now I need to spend time with our Higher Power, spend time with some family and friends, write and create the next chapter of life.  Every decision going forward is considered along with the question: Do I have the capacity?  I suspect wisdom and capacity are closely linked.  We shall see.

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An unattractive picture from the end of the Surrender Trail 2016 that captures how I felt then and maybe how I feel right now too!

Proverbs 4:7 (NIV) The beginning of wisdom is this: Get wisdom.  Though it cost all you have, get understanding.

Do you have wisdom in this area?  How do you measure and make choices about capacity?

3 Crazy Clutter Clearing Tips

It seems there is no end to the mess in my basement.  Once again I am determined this is the weekend that the clutter is finally gone.  To follow are tips that get me moving each Saturday morning.

1.  Have an out-of-body experience.

If I am struggling to begin, then I attempt to channel one of my friends who is good at eliminating piles and creating organization.  I pretend to love sorting like Maria.  She tackles household stacks with zeal.  One time she helped me clear an attic with broken toys from the 1970’s and dust dating back to the 1800’s.  She was 7 months pregnant and enjoyed it.  I was like, “Uh.  May I offer you a mask?”  My friend Deb uses “the power of 3 (or 7, 10, whatever number she chooses)”.  This means she picks a number and once she says go, then she has to move, trash or complete that number of simple tasks before sitting back down.  This catalyst activity leads to a productive day for her.  I reflect on memories of how friend Amy had tidy shoe boxes of stuff when we were kids and how her now adult hands still seem to frequently toss garbage from any surface, especially her car.  I draw from all of their energy and good habits to drag my booty away from the couch.

2.  Save steps for your happy dance.

The trap of multi story homes is the tiring stairs.  I don’t climb a set of stairs until I have collected multiple bags of donation items and full garbage bags.  Each bag moved to the base of the stairs feels like a win.  This also gives me a chance to ask the teenager of the house to help carry things when he stops to say hello.  When I see multiple bags ready to ascend, then I do a happy dance and call it a square footage of clear space win.

3.  Have conversations with yourself.

Without slowing down ask why did you save that?  Why did you think that would be useful?  And most importantly, why do you want to eliminate the clutter?  Give yourself pep talks to say “keep going, keep moving”.  I have read a lot of how to get organized books over the years.  All of those books are now located at the Goodwill in Florence, KY.  My favorite book on this topic is What Your Clutter Is Trying to Tell You: Uncover the Message in the Mess and Reclaim Your Life by Kerri L. Richardson.  If you struggle in the battle of clutter and can read only one book, then read that one.  This book helps you discover the emotional core of your clutter struggles.  The author opened my eyes in new ways.

Alrighty.  The sun is coming up soon.  Time for me to get moving!

Love,

Glenna

Scripture Spoke Louder

I find treasure each weekend as we prepare to move.  Most recently I discovered a 2-inch x 3-inch notebook from 1983.  The paper has yellowed.  The spiral wire feels rough like rust.  The pages are difficult to turn.

Inside are Bible verses from a time when I took every curly q of cursive writing seriously.  I was 11 years old in 1983.  My guess is that in Sunday School we wrote a verse or two each week.  The notebook is divided into Old Testament and New Testament sections, poetry, prophecy, and more.  I have no idea who my Sunday School teacher was for this weekly exercise, but he or she was wise.  What an excellent way to learn scripture.

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Almost every page contains Bible verses that have been with me nearly my whole life.  They reside not only in a dark corner of my basement moved from home to home but also in the foundation of my heart.

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Exodus 14:14, When adults have competing agendas and it is best to hold my tongue.

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Leviticus 19:4, When the boy broke my heart.  Uh, ok, boys.  Plural.  Worshiping another human is a trap often leading to disappointment.  I learned only God can “complete me”.

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Ruth 3:10, When I found strength in the fact that a gentle woman can still have power and grace.

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2 Samuel 22:4, When I trusted God to deliver me from less than nice people.  [Sidebar:  Have you heard that 1 in 25 people may be a functioning sociopath?  Check out a great book for more info:  The Sociopath Next Door.]

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Ecclesiastes 7:9, When I developed a slooooow fuse.  I don’t anger easily.  That is a blessing in my relationships.

Micah 7:7, When I feel scared or lonely and ask Jesus to wrap His arms around me as I go to sleep.

2 Corinthians 5:7, When I take healthy risks with hope for the best outcome.

John 3:16, When I maintain perspective on the greatest love story of all time.

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Mark 16:15, When I chose to write a Christian blog and Christian manuscript about freedom found in surrender.  Preach, sisters!

What scripture has spoken louder than your circumstances?  Is there a teacher you need to thank?  Or children in your life who will benefit from the time you take to build a notebook with them?

I am grateful for the caring adults who poured light into me even if it took 35 years for me to realize the lasting power of the wisdom they shared.

Glenna