A Tale About Trolls

Once upon a time, in a land that might or might not be far, far away, there lived a troll. This troll, like any troll, had "issues", not the least of which is her overwhelming anger. Sure she had friends she could growl with, but it wasn't enough to satisfy the pain in her heart.

One day she happened to find the house of someone she could hate. She knew a little bit about this person and it was enough. She settled in under their porch and prepared herself for a good time.

She anticipated so much fun she invited over some friends. They took turns leaving angry, nasty comments for the homeowner to find. But something went horribly wrong for them. For two weeks, nothing happened! They felt neither rewarded nor relieved.

The troll soon realized the homeowner's sister's address was posted proudly on the wall so she crept over and hid under the unsuspecting sister's porch. What the troll didn't seem to realize was that the sister's home welcomes anyone exploring their faith or (and this is the good part) for anyone looking to learn from the many mistakes she made in raising her children.

The troll spent some time exploring the home, and maybe she thought she had all the ammunition she needed when she launched her first round. But alas, shouting recriminations about poor parenting skills or poking at her faith...it made the sister chuckle.

"Why 'yes'!" the sister admitted, "You're right! I'm not perfect, by far. I've made many mistakes. I've wept many a tear and I've learned a lot. I've grown stronger but more importantly I've grown closer to God. Through my trials I've developed a deeper faith. Please, come in and stay a while. I'd like to hear more about your experiences. You're welcome any time you want; I love to talk about my faith. You don't have to agree with me. I appreciate the company and the opportunity to explore and share!"

I'm not sure how this story ends. You tell me....

Dear Lord, I pray for people who feel the need to criticize and be negative in a world already filled with pain and sorrow. Bless us as we strive to do our best, by Your grace. Help us all to love one another as You have commanded us. Amen.

Three Words for 2011 (and insight into how my mind works)

Sure, I'd heard a bit of the buzz...but amidst all of the noise and fanfare of the incoming new year I'd not stopped to discern just what was that buzzing noise I was hearing about "3 words". Then a friend e-mailed me and mentioned her own pursuit of the 3 words that would be her focus for 2011 so I finally stopped and listened.

I read Chris Brogen's post on the subject. I read the three words chosen by him and by others (in Chris' comments and here and here). I sent Chris Brogen's link to my staff and challenged them to come up with their own 3 words and to make sure their goals supported their 3 words. But I still couldn't seem to come up with my own three words. My thinking went something like this:

"Focus" should be one of the words because I really need to stay focused, but that seems silly because the words are supposed to be the focus. I can't focus on focus. What would be my goals? Be less ADD? Sit still for at least 5 minutes before succumbing to interruption and distraction?

"Faith" doesn't need to be one of the words because I'm blessed with a deep, abiding faith these days (although Lord knows it is often tested).

Maybe "Boundaries" should be on the list. I tend to work way too many hours and not leave enough time for the things (and people) I love. Really it's a matter of "balance". Yes, "balance" should be one of the words. I can measure my days and assess how well I'm maintaining balance. My to-do lists, my calendar, my e-mail all reflect the balance (or lack thereof) in my life.

But what else? Maybe "focus". I don't stay focused very well. But I've already considered & discarded that one. Hmmm.

"Discern"? I often pray for discernment, so that I can know God's will. "Obey"? Once I feel guided, am I obedient? "Act"? Do I act according to God's desires for me? Do I understand God's purpose and plan for me? Do I follow where he leads me?

All through the day yesterday and today I wrestled with distilling all of this down to three words. Three little words (or big words) that will have meaning for me. Three words that will help me stay focused on my goals. Three words that are better than any meaningless resolution. I tried on other people's words but nothing seemed to fit.

Meanwhile, on the radio, on the internet, at church, amongst friends I keep hearing talk of change. It's that time of year. But I don't really want change per se. I just want to stay focused on the things that matter.

Finally, Micah 6:8 resonated from the pages of the chronological Bible I'm reading. God has shown me what he requires of me: to act justly, to love mercy and to walk humbly with God.

So after spending a little more time thinking about the words that will help me stay focused on what God wants of me, here's my list:

Prudence, Mercy, Humility

Prudence = the characteristic of exercising sound judgment in practical affairs; act justly.

Mercy = a disposition to be kind and forgiving; compassionate treatment of others; a blessing

Humility = the quality of being modest, reverential, never rude or self-abasing; temperance (restraint against inordinate desires or appetites).

So, yes, some change will be required. Ultimately I think these 3 words capture a life of discernment and obedience with the necessary element of humility ... which will honestly require the greatest effort of the three.

May God bless me this year. May God bless us all.

What are your three words?

Don't judge me, please

If you follow me on Twitter you might have caught the unusual tactic I applied to keep myself focused during the final days of NaNoWriMo: I applied tattoos. I started with the NaNoWriMo shield on my left forearm. This proved to be both fun and effective. I applied the first one on November 23rd. Then on November 28th I applied "1,667" to my right bicep: my incentive to get my daily word count average above 1,667 per day (the minimum needed to reach the 50k word requirement to qualify as a winner). On November 29th I was staring down the final words to reach my goal, so I applied a third tattoo: "My Novel, by Me."
If you read my post on the subject you know I'm not taking credit for writing this novel (to God goes the glory!) so I hid this tattoo someplace relatively discreet, over my heart. November 29th also marked my return to the office, ending my week-long holiday.

Then began my adventure as a woman of body-art, tats, suburban ink, stain, mystery and intrigue. I was asked more than once about what kind of wild antics I'd been up to over Thanksgiving. I enjoyed the reminders: I am a novelist. I wrote a novel. I've had many opportunities to tell people about it, because the bolder of my co-workers ask.

But there are others who do not ask; whose eyes dart to the tattoos and then back to my mundane visage. They try to make sense of what they're seeing. Did this business woman, an engineer no less, did she really get a tattoo? And what does it mean?

Last week, I went to a meeting with a bunch of stuffed shirts. The attendees were marketing, but also the CEO, CTO, COO and CFO of a small Austin firm. I was privileged to sit in on a deal as it was brokered (the outcome is still pending). And there I sat with my tattooed forearms. And they, of the darting eyes, trying to reconcile the body art with the rest of the package.

The next day I deleted Tattoo #1. It was looking very weathered and starting to erode. Two tattoos remained.

On Sunday I wore a top that didn't quite cover the "My Novel" tattoo; there I was at church, with a bit of green ribbon peeking out from under the neckline of my shirt. Awkward! Again, darting eyes gave away the natural interest. Who wouldn't be curious? I'll give credit to the wonderful people I worship with - my necklace received many compliments.

This week brought a cold snap and a visit from my boss (in from Taiwan). I decided it would be best to hide the body art, but discovered my long sleeve shirts all have low necklines. I decided to rid myself of the tattoo over my heart. My boss left this morning, non-the-wiser.

Today, I boldly bared my "1,667" tattoo and again received multiple comments and questions about its origin. I'm impressed with how well these temporary tattoos are holding up, and how authentic this one continues to appear.
I've kept this tattoo around for a couple of reasons: 1) I enjoy telling others (and reminding myself) that I'm a novelist and 2) I don't want to let myself off the hook. I'm supposed to actually read, edit, re-read, etc. this novel. I have another tattoo left to apply, which is my final reminder to get cracking on the post-writing part of this journey. If I don't get busy soon I may well apply the last tattoo to the side of my throat.

I've learned a few things from this whole experience:

• There aren't too many people in my work environment with tattoos, despite the fact that Austin, Tx (in general) is a very liberal, live-music-capital-of-the-world tattooed/pierced kind of place.
• Tattoos are fun and a little distracting.
• I have enjoyed the outward/visible sign that I'm different, but I'm glad it's not permanent.
• It can be awkward to have people stare at my body art (or even just try to catch a peek).
• I've enjoyed telling people about my novel.
• There's just as much risk that I'll come under judgment as a Christian fiction author as I will for having tattoos.
• I've always said I have no interest in getting a tattoo, but that is no longer a true statement.
• I suspect I'll miss having tattoos.

A funny thing happened on the way to December

One morning, late in October, on the first morning following the Women of Faith Conference in San Antonio, I awoke early and went to my favorite spot (in the sun room) for morning prayer. And I took a petition to God.

"God," I said. "Should I try to write a novel in November?" You see, I had NaNoWriMo on my mind. If you're not familiar with NaNoWriMo, it's the annual shaking loose of 50,000 words, ideally coherent, in the form of a novel.

After I offered up my petition, I proceeded to list the plethora of reasons why it was a bad idea, including the best possible excuse "I don't even have a plot in mind!" And immediately (and I really do mean IMMEDIATELY) God graced me with a plot: Write about a woman whose soul is fought over by the forces of good and evil.

"Wow! Thanks God. I've got it from here!"

Then for two weeks I suffered from interruptions and illness to the point of giving up. Seriously. And I was justified in quitting, I assure you. By the morning of November 14 I'd written a grand total of ~2777 words. That's an average of barely more than 200 words per day. To reach 50k it takes an average of 1,667 words per day. By the morning of November 19 (a whole 5 days later, in case you're not doing the math) my average was up to almost 440 words per day. Pitiful.

Then I went to lunch with my priest. If any of you are really wanting to get some insightful counseling from a pastor who cares, I sincerely recommend a session with Bruce. He channels the voice of God.

So yeah, God, in the form of my priest Father Bruce, kicked me in the seat of my figurative pants and asked me if I was going to obey or insult Him with my continued whining about "I can't".

Sure, the month was almost 3/4 over. Sure, I was woefully behind. Was I implying that God couldn't? This is God we're talking about here. The same God who whittled down Gideon's army from 32k to 300 so that their victory over the Midionites (who were thick as locusts) would be credited to God. Yes, that God.

What's a girl to do? I sat my butt down in front of my computer and averaged over 3800 words per day for the next 12 days and I finished the novel that God put on my heart. And if you don't believe me, well here's my tracking spreadsheet (yes, I'm an engineer) and my winner's banner:

The valley and the mountaintop

When you're walking through the valley, sometimes it is enough to know that there are mountaintops. Faith, by the definition offered in Hebrews 11:1, is confidence in the things we hope for but can't see.

I'm not worried about my valley. Life happens in the valleys. Evangelism happens in the valleys. Faith happens in the valleys. I trust that there is a mountaintop in my future. I don't need to see it now to know that my turn will come.

Today I was blessed by a Kairos closing ceremony. I don't think it's possible to attend a Kairos closing without being blessed by the experience. It's unfortunate that there are some whose attitude might detract from the experience but today I thankfully wasn't affected by that. Listening to the Kairos participants talk is all about listening to the voices calling from the mountaintop. They are swimming in love, glowing with grace and glory, overflowing with the Spirit. It's a beautiful thing.

My friend Bernie reminded me that my blog was moldering in the valley. Yes, I've been busy. Busy with work. Busy with world travel. Busy with weak attempts at this year's NaNoWriMo. Busy with working out. Busy with playing the piano. Busy with the valley.

I drove to/from the Bartlett state jail in my '99 Mustang convertible, top down, hair flying...and I enjoyed my freedom. I enjoyed knowing that there will be better days. That's my faith, and I'm living it.

The Valley of Humiliation

Sometimes it takes the convergence of apparently unrelated vectors in life to shake us awake so we can appreciate the reality of our circumstances. In the work-world, I've been giving and receiving advice about how to not just survive but thrive in the corporate environment. Meanwhile, I've fallen behind in my daily reading of Oswald Chamber's devotional "My Utmost for His Highest". This morning, before I rose I read the October 2nd entry "The Place of Humiliation" and it struck a chord, resonating and filling me with truth. I may be in Taipei physically but spiritually, mentally and emotionally I'm walking in the Valley of Humiliation.

I've gotten a little (or extremely) full of myself, thinking I deserve better than what I'm getting. I trust God and I trust God's timing... but why is this situation taking so long to "fix"? Why must I suffer so? Aren't I destined for greatness?

Where is my faith as I survive the mundane? I've fallen into a trap of believing that my faith will enable me to do great things. Instead, I realize now that I should focus on revealing God's glory in the valley, where the real work happens. That's faith. Real faith. Trusting God not because I'm living in a moment of heightened awareness, overwhelmed by the sheer joy of knowing Him but because in the absence of any clear indication of His presence I still know He is here with me.

God doesn't have to prove anything to me and God doesn't owe me anything. Life in the valley of humiliation is what it is: life. We can't serve God's greater purpose without spending time humbly trudging along in the valley. That, my friends, is God's kingdom here on earth. Welcome.

Teens: You gotta love 'em!

It was inevitable. He's 16. He can't help himself. He must transition from child to adult. Unlike a caterpillar whose transition allows them the comfort of a cocoon to effectively insulate them from the world, teens must go out into the world and face the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune. And worse, other teens. And teachers. And police officers who pull them over and issue citations (but that I'll save for another post).

What's a mother to do?

Love, love, love! And when that's not enough, love them some more.

I've had to remind myself of this lately. When my teen comes home tired and cranky, I need to offer love. When he tries to reject my love, I need to offer more love.

How?

I write him notes that tell him I love him. I communicate with him (about my day, about his day, about his dreams and plans). I do things for him ("Are you hungry? Can I fix you a sandwich?"). I encourage him ("Wow! That's great! You're really doing a good job.). I pat him on the back (literally).

This post is as much for me as for you. The rewards of this sacrifice are not immediately evident. My love can easily be rebuffed or rejected. But I am determined to respond with MORE not less. I've learned this lesson the hard way.

Baptism - Josalynn Marie Hicks

Although my oldest two daughters hated each other during their teen years, my forecast of their eventual reunion has finally hit a major milestone of "see-I-told-you-so" maternal truth. They are turning the corner in their relationship and hopefully they will someday enjoy the closeness that I experience with my sisters. I detested my sisters when I lived at home but as an adult, they are my dearest friends.

Last weekend (7/4/10), my granddaughter (Child #2 of my Child #2) was baptized. In these photos, she is held by her aunt, my eldest.

The lovely cake (from HEB):
The beautiful child, Josalynn Marie Hicks:

We welcome her into the family of Christ. She is a beloved member of our family.

Celebrating Life

This past year was awesome. There were many highs and many lows, but the highs were all higher than the lows. I've been through the dark valley before so I know how important it is to appreciate time spent on the mountaintop.

Today has been a day that marks a few personal accomplishments:

I'm celebrating life - I turn 45 today.

I'm celebrating my career - from stenographer to engineer to development manager to line director and now author. Today I crossed the 50,000 word target for #NaNoWriMo and I'm still going. Finishing my first novel is a major milestone. Additionally, Guidepost magazine is publishing my 2nd story (March issue). Today the editor called to clarify a few items. I'll soon be receiving the final draft for my approval. Today I lift a glass to the good Lord who guides me, my loving shepherd.

I'm celebrating family - Thanksgiving is less than a week away. I'm praying that the entire clan will be together for Thanksgiving...for the first time since (I'd have marked the calendar if I'd realized it was going to be the last time) maybe 2003.

But I'm also humbled and reminded to be grateful for all that I have and to take none of it for granted. Twitter and the World of Blogcraft have been alive with prayers for a woman I've never met, Anissa Mayhew. There are a lot of people that I respect who have written posts or Tweets that have pulled at my heart and called me into the powerful circle of prayer in the on-line community. Anissa's life has been filled with valleys and mountains. She's proven to be strong and faithful (based on all that I've read I firmly believe this to be true). She and her family need our prayers. I gladly lift up my prayers and ask that you join in.

God, Please show Your strength, Your mercy and Your grace. Bless this woman again, as You've so richly blessed her during previous trials. Be with her. Be with her family. Infuse her with Your Spirit. Only You can help her recover from the strokes that threaten her. Through Your steadfast faithfulness I trust You to show us Your power & might. All glory is Yours. Amen.

Monday Madness - perspective

Sometimes life is all about perspective. Glasses that are half full are also half empty. Joy is a choice we make. A gift of grace available to each of us, but a gift that must be accepted. Because joy is a matter of perspective.

A few weeks ago I signed up for the National Novel Writer's Month (NaNoWriMo) experience. I can tell you a million reasons why I don't have time for this. I can fill my heart with fear and self-recriminations. Or I can choose joy and hope, faithful that if it's God's will, then it will happen and confident that if it's not - it doesn't matter.

I will remind myself daily to "be joyful in hope, patient in affliction, faithful in prayer." (Romans 12:12)

By stepping out in faith and free-falling into the unknown I have to trust Him. I will embrace Paul's prayer to the Romans "May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace as you trust in him, so that you may overflow with hope by the power of the Holy Spirit."(Romans 15:13)

Meanwhile, this week feels like my last week of freedom.

A Mother's Angst

All it is is my perspective.

Mother n - something or someone that gives rise to or exercises protecting care over something else; origin or source.

Angst n - a feeling of dread, anxiety, or anguish.

Vent v - to relieve by giving expression to something.

Usually I save my venting for my prayers. God hears me and I trust Him. My children and my grandchildren are His. Yesterday I was called to share some thoughts that someone, somewhere needed to hear. Maybe it was you. Maybe it was me.

We are blessed and adopted children of God. Sometimes our trust is tested - how else can we demonstrate obedience? In faith, we must do what we are called to do.

Peace,