Lessons Learned From My Father’s Illness (Part 2)

Change is the one thing about life that’s certain.  You can either resist change, or you can learn and grow through it.  My parents have modeled the latter.  Here are a few more things I’ve learned from them in 2009:

Lesson #6:  “In sickness and in health.”
My parents are a team.  When they said “I do” over 50 years ago, they meant it.   Sure, like all marriages they’ve had their ups and downs.  But they won’t part until death, and they take that commitment very seriously.  The result?  They’re closer than ever.  Right now, my mother is my father’s nurse as well as his hands and feet.  She doesn’t complain, and she knows that if the tables were turned he would do the same for her.  She’s just thankful that God gave her the strength and stamina to do it.  (And she can run circles around just about anyone, including her grandchildren.)

Lesson #7:  Memories rock.
Our family memories are sacred.  Holidays.  Births.  Weddings.  Family gatherings.  Cookouts.  Family vacations.  More family vacations.  You guessed it, our most memorable times together are probably on family vacations.  So we love to talk about the trips together, tell stories, and pull out the old pictures and video tapes.  No one can take away the memories, and we wouldn’t trade them for anything. 

Lesson #8:  People are more important than things.
My parents are talking about selling the house they love – the house where they’ve raised 5 daughters, welcomed 14 grandchildren (and one great-grandchild) into the world, planted over 40 gardens, added porches, remodeled the kitchen, and hosted 4 generations of family.  It’s going to be hard, but at the end of the day, the four walls of a house mean nothing.  Stuff is overrated.   But for the people, the stuff is meaningless.

Lesson #9:  It’s ok to cry.
My dad is from a generation of men that don’t cry.  So he keeps apologizing for getting all emotional and mushy this past year.  I just want to tell him, “it’s ok to cry, Dad.”  His tears help comfort me.  They help me connect with him.  And they help teach me that no matter how tough you are, it’s ok to be human.  “Weeping may endure for a night but joy comes in the morning.”  (Psalm 30:5.)

Lesson #10:  Faith is the cornerstone.
No matter what the circumstances, our faith is constant.  My mother has modeled the kind of faith I can only hope to one day emulate (and yes, she’s even begun to rub off on my father).  So while we wait for more answers, pray for a breakthrough, and hope for the best, we know that our eternal destiny – the only thing that lasts forever– is secure in Christ.  (We know there are lots of golf courses in heaven, but don’t be surprised when you see my dad hit the links this summer.  God isn’t finished with him yet!)

Thanks Mom and Dad for teaching me some valuable lessons in 2009!  

Who do you need to thank for teaching you a few things in 2009?  You might want to let them know before the year ends!

Lessons Learned From My Father’s Illness (Part 1)

I’ve learned a few lessons this year from my father’s illness.  Unfortunately, I can’t fit them all into one blog, so I’ll have to finish up tomorrow.

Lesson #1:  Always get a second opinion.
My parents are from a generation that doesn’t question doctors.  But when you’re life is on the line, you really need to get a second opinion.  As they say, the squeaky wheel gets the grease, and when it comes to your health, it pays to be the squeaky wheel.  (It also doesn’t hurt to educate yourself.  Sure, you can’t believe everything you read online, but Web MD is pretty handy to have around.)

Lesson #2:  Trust your own body, as well as your instincts.
Yes, doctors and medical professionals provide vital expertise.  But there are times when you just need to listen to your own body.  Is the medicine you are taking making you sick?  Are your instincts telling you that you need to try a different treatment?  Then listen, and act on your instincts.

Lesson #3:  Never give up.
When I visited my father over Christmas, he told me point blank, “I just want you to know that I’m not giving up.”  He continues to ride an old stationary bike, even when it hurts.  He’s started playing the piano again.  And he dreams of golfing this summer.  He’s always told me that it’s mind over matter.  Now he gets to live out his own words.  

Lesson #4:  Keep your sense of humor.
Illness can make everyone cranky.  And if you know my father, he can give Grumpy Old Men a new meaning.  But he continues to laugh.  He teases the grandkids and calls them by his pet nicknames.  We laugh about his newfound admiration for my mother’s driving (she’s the only wheels he has)!  And we laugh through our tears about how he needs her help in the bathroom – like when I was a little girl and yelled for her when I was finished going “potty.”  I’m just thankful he keeps laughing. 

Lesson # 5:  The glass is always half full.
My father’s feisty spirit has become more enduring than ever, and my parents have gained my admiration as I’ve watched them enter a new stage of life with grace and dignity. Tomorrow will be better.  There is always hope.  God is in control of our ultimate destiny.   Hope is a beautiful thing.

Difficult Lessons Learned During 2009?

At the end of every new year, I make a list.  Prayers answered, memorable moments, and last but not least, lessons learned.

I learned more lessons in 2009 than I care to write about.  Yes, it was one of those “character building” years. 

At the top of my list?  Watching my father battle a debilitating illness.

Many of us are raising young children while we’re doing our best to help care for our aging parents.  We’re making lots of long-distance calls, waiting for second opinions, and fighting insurance companies.  And we’re also praying more than usual.

My friend Shelly likes to refer to us the “Sandwich Generation.”  She should know.  She’s working full time, raising four kids, and battling again with her mother’s rare cancer that just reared its ugly head again in 2009.  Like me, she’s trying to do her best, but she always feels like someone is getting the short end of the stick.

This past year, my father’s illness has robbed him of a lifestyle he once knew – a lifestyle of golf, travel, and independence.  Yet in the midst of the loss, he and my mother have taught me a few lessons I’d like to share in the coming days. 

What lessons have you learned from illness and pain?  God often uses those difficult circumstances as a teacher, and while we wouldn’t wish them on anyone, we wouldn’t trade the experience for anything.

The Morning After

I always get a little depressed when Christmas is over.  Now what, I ask myself? 

The gifts are open.  The money is spent.  The tree is smashed.  The cookies are stale.  The food is in my stomach.  The pounds are on. And the work is piling up on my desk.

Why did I get all wrapped up into this Christmas thing anyway?

Then, as I sulk in my post-mortem, I remember that Christmas isn’t the ending, it’s the beginning.   It’s the beginning of a story of redemption.  And thank God that story didn’t stop in a stable in Bethlehem.

Nick and I were recently debating over which is the greatest Christian holiday.  Nick was torn, but he settled on Christmas.  The reason?  In his words, “without Christmas, there would be no Easter.”

He makes a good point.  And if Christmas is the beginning, that also means it’s time to move on.  When I put things in context, I’m really glad it’s the morning after.  Now that Christmas is over, we can learn from the past, but we also get to see the rest of the story unfold.

As I look toward 2010, I’m reminded of yet another beginning – a new year that lies ahead with new stories to unfold, and new mercies every morning.  So as I prepare for the new year, I plan to reflect on 2009 – the highs, the lows, the lessons learned, and even the moments of redemption.
 
What will 2010 bring for you, and what moments of 2009 deserve some reflection?

What’s So Special About A Shepherd?

I often wonder why the birth of Christ was first announced to shepherds.  Shepherds are low society.  They don’t have important jobs or drive fancy cars.  They probably don’t shower every day, and I don’t think they’re very religious.  Couldn’t Jesus have made a bigger splash if the angels would have appeared at the temple court in Jerusalem to announce that God incarnate had arrived on the scene?

If I were God’s PR Director, I would have chosen a more important venue.  A quiet hillside just doesn’t seem to do justice for the birth of a King.

Of course, I’m not God’s PR Director.  Like usual, God was a few steps ahead of me in unfolding an amazing plan.  A plan that started with a virgin woman who was probably 14 years old.  A plan that didn’t start with the educated or the political or religious leaders.   A plan that is about grace, not entitlement.

Come to think of it, I think that’s probably why God chose to first break the news to humble shepherds.  They didn’t expect it.

It’s just like God to pull off the unexpected.

As you know, I like surprises.  So this Christmas, I’m praying that God would show up and reveal his grace to those among us who least expect it.

Favorite Holiday Traditions

One thing I love about the holidays is family traditions.  Every Christmas Eve, we make homemade ravioli and have a special dinner after a candlelight service at church.  We let the kids exchange sibling gifts and this year we’re adding the tradition of reading The Night Before Christmas under the Christmas tree.  Of course, we have to get to bed early to give Santa plenty of time to arrive.

I’m always looking for new family traditions.  One of my friends spends Christmas Eve at a homeless shelter with her kids.  Another friend bakes a birthday cake for Jesus.  Others have stopped exchanging gifts altogether and instead take a special family trip together.

Family traditions tend to be as different as the families represented by them.  The important part is not how we celebrate.  The important part is what who we celebrate.  I don’t even think our celebration needs to be all that “religious.”

What’s your favorite holiday tradition, and how do you create the memories of celebrating Jesus, the greatest gift of all?

Last Minute Gift Ideas

I was running with my friend Emily last week (we meet early in the mornings for sanity breaks and a little exercise) and she told me about a Christmas gift she decided to buy herself.  Like Doug, Emily has resorted to buying her own gifts.
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The gift?  It’s a brownie pan.  Apparently it’s the rage this year for busy moms.

What’s so special about this brownie pan anyway? 

In short, you don’t have to cut the brownies.  The magic pan does it for you.

I was more than intrigued.  After all, I am a chocolate addict, I love brownies, but I hate the work and the mess.  Maybe this pan is the answer to my brownie issues.

Anyway, I thought I’d share the tip.  Some of us are still looking for that special gift, and this one sounds like a winner.  (And for anyone that buys it for me, I’ll make you a pan of brownies.) 

Any other last-minute gift ideas to share?

Christmas Surprise?

I like surprises.  Which is why I never understand it when Doug buys his own Christmas gifts.  After all, I’ve known him for over 20 years.  Doesn’t he trust me to get him a present that is well suited to meet his wants, likes, and needs?  Doesn’t he want me to surprise him?

Apparently not.

I got home from work last week and he informed me that I didn’t have to buy him a Christmas gift this year.  He had already taken care of it.   After all, he was just trying to save me the aggravation of going to the golf store and finding the putter he really wanted.  (Even though he had written down the exact type and model number, he was still concerned I would screw it up.)

So, he bought the club for himself and hid it in the basement.  On Christmas, I am supposed to pull it out as a “gift” from me and the kids, and he’s going to act like he is actually surprised. 

I can hardly wait.  Unfortunately, I've never been good at faking it or going through the motions.  I like real life drama.  Sure, surprises are known to backfire on me, but it's all about the anticipation and suspense.

Should I be glad he saved me the trip?  Would you rather have the real life drama of a surprise, or is it better to play it predictable and safe?

Fat Chance, by Julie Hadden

I’ve never struggled with being overweight.  Which is why I wasn’t sure what I would learn when I recently read Fat Chance by Julie Hadden.

Julie’s story is truly amazing.  She was selected from among 250,000 contestants to appear on the Biggest Loser, and from then on determined to put her faith in action and not give up.  Sure, she had a few bumps in the road (given that she trained with no-mercy Jullian Michaels it certainly wasn’t easy) but she went on to lose almost half of her body weight and finished season four as runner-up.

Since then, she’s appeared on Oprah, written a book and numerous articles, and she travels around the country inspiring men and women to take control of their health choices.  I love a happy ending, especially when it’s a Cinderella story.

But the ending is not what I took away from Fat Chance.  You see, for Julie, this is just the beginning.  Like so many things in life, her weight loss was not a destination.  It’s a faith journey.

Julie explains in her book that she never wanted to be the poster child for weight loss:   “Speaking still scares me to death, but I know that God has given me this opportunity for such a time as this.  And not seizing it scares me far more than seizing it ever will.” 

The part about not seizing the opportunity really got my attention.  To Julie’s credit, she was blessed with an open window – but she still had to jump through it! 

For many of us, not seizing the moment can prove much more fearful than seizing it.   The last thing I want to do is get to heaven and hear God say, “hey, your life could have been really cool if you just would have had some guts to step out of your comfort zone.” 

Is a window cracked open in your life?  And when it finally does open, will you be ready for the journey?

Working For The Weekend

It’s been one of those weeks.  I thought Friday would never get here.

Last Sunday night, I sat the kids down and explained to them, “Mom is going to have to work a lot this week.  When I’m not home some nights, it doesn’t mean I don’t love you.  I’ll be thinking about you every minute, and of course I always come back.”

I went on to explain that I had to go to five different cities in five days.  When I told them one of the cities was in Kentucky, Nick said he wanted to come to see the caves -- he’s read that some of the most impressive caves around are in Kentucky.  Anna and Abby started jumping up and down.  They wanted to come too.

I calmed everyone down and tried to explain that I wasn’t going to be near any caves, and that Kentucky really isn’t that much fun.   (No disrespect to my Kentucky friends -- if we were camping in Kentucky, that would be another story.)

Now that the week is almost over, I’ll have to say that it went incredibly fast.  It really wasn’t that bad (even the Kentucky part), but I still have to say THANK GOD IT’S FRIDAY!

December Camping Blues?

Now that Old Man Winter has arrived in Ohio, we’ve finally put the camping gear away for the season. And I’m a little grouchy about it. I really miss camping.

If you would have told me 10 years ago I’d be spending my free weekends at State Parks and family campgrounds, I would have told you to get your head examined. Even I was surprised when we started camping last summer. I prefer a suite at the Ritz, the best food, and the latest spa treatments. There’s no spa at the campground.

I never planned to be a camper. It just sort of happened. Last summer, Doug got this wild idea to have more “family time” on the weekends, and the next thing I knew we were buying a travel trailer off of Craig’s list and we never looked back.

Five camping trips later, I’m addicted. There’s nothing like waking up to the sound of birds chirping or sitting by a campfire late at night. Instead of sitting in front of the TV, the kids are chopping wood, catching bugs, and gathering sticks for our next fire. (Yeah, I know, Abby is a little young to chop wood, but that doesn’t stop her from trying.) Life has become way too complicated, and camping brings us all to a better, simpler place.

Maybe this is a fad. A year from now, maybe I’ll be complaining about the bathrooms at the campground and nasty mosquitoes that invade our camper. Maybe I’ll miss unlimited hot water and clean clothes. Maybe I’ll be begging Doug to take me back to the Ritz. For now, there are lots of reasons I intend to keep camping, as soon as the weather breaks again. (You guessed it, I even have camping gear on my Christmas list.)

Any campers out there (or even closet campers)?

The Shopping Mall Or the Desert?

Those of you who already have your Christmas shopping done really annoy me.  I just can’t seem to get my act together this year, and I’m running out of time. 

And when I do go out, I always seem to forget something or have terrible luck.  Like when I was in Justice, I forgot my 40% off coupon so I had to send Doug back to return and repurchase the goods.  Then, I got overcharged for my shoes at Macy’s and I had to stand in line a second time (and an extra 20 minutes) just to get my credit back. 

I’ve resorted to finishing my shopping on the Internet.  The only problem?  I’m terrified everything won’t arrive by Christmas Eve, even if I pay the extra shipping.  How am I ever going to be ready for Christmas?

Maybe I’m going about this all wrong.  What should I really be doing to prepare for the coming of my Lord?

I could take a few lessons from John the Baptist.  He didn’t seem to spend much time cutting holiday coupons or fighting the holiday traffic.  From the reports about his wardrobe, I don’t think he frequented the shopping malls.  Instead, he prepared for the coming of the Lord in the most unusual place – the desert. 

After 460 years of silence, John the Baptist spoke the first prophetic words since Malachi.  The Word of the Lord didn’t come in the cities, the marketplace, or even the temples.  All those places are much too noisy.  I for one do much better listening when it’s quiet – and the desert is much quieter than the shopping malls. 

In the hustle and bustle of the holiday season, some of us need the silence of the desert.   Silence clears our heads and calms our spirits.   It’s in silence that we can think are best thoughts and, yes, sometimes we can even hear the Word of the Lord.

Are you ready for Christmas this year?

How I Got Published – Part 2 (Overcoming Platform)

Once I signed on with an agent, I could hardly wait to get my vision for Chasing Superwoman to the publishers. 

But wait is exactly what I did. 

My agent, Rachelle, explained to me that I didn’t have a platform.  And because I didn’t have a platform, we’d have to be strategic.  The proposal would have to be perfect.  She wanted me to refine (and rework) my sample chapters, and she also wanted to float my idea to publishers to generate interest before sending the proposal. 

Timing is everything.

It sounded like she knew what she was talking about, but deep down I wondered if she thought my writing wasn’t going to make the cut.  Why the heck did I need a platform anyway?

I would quickly learn. 

If you are a non-fiction writer and you’re going to tell other people about your view of the world (and expect them to buy your book), you need a platform to speak from.  People should already be listening to you.  You should be well known as an expert (even an authority) in your field.  Celebrities and politicians have platforms.  In Christian circles, pastors and leaders of large churches and ministries have platforms. 

I wasn’t a celebrity, politician, or church leader.  I had a voice, not a platform.

It didn’t quite seem fair.  I’m not a celebrity.  I’m also not the Church Lady or a pastor’s wife.  Where are the career women out there who are writing about faith and the spiritual struggles of the working mother?  Over 75% of women with school-aged children are working outside the home.  Does the church even hear our voice?  Or is it going to take a celebrity to wake up the Christian publishing houses?

Rachelle didn’t argue with my logic.  She just brought me down to reality.  In reality, I was a lawyer.  Sure, I had given dozens of speeches, edited books, and written articles on legal issues, but that didn’t mean anyone would buy my book about faith and motherhood.  After all, everyone knows that lawyers are the least spiritual group of people on the planet.  Heck, maybe being a lawyer was even a strike against me in the Christian publishing world. 

But it’s who I am.

Through the whole platform discussion, I learned (again) to have patience and adjust my expectations.  But I also determined I would not give up. 
Yes, this whole platform discussion is incredibly frustrating for a first-time author.   Many first-time authors never get past it, and I consider myself lucky (and blessed!) to have gotten on to publishing.

Does platform (or lack thereof) frustrate you?  You're in good company.   

Top Ten Reasons I Hate Packing Lunches

I really try not to complain on Monday mornings, but there are certain aspects of my morning routine I completely dread.  At the top of my list?  Packing lunches.

Here’s why (and it was hard to limit the list to 10):

1. I am reminded of all the junk food in my cupboard.
2. I have to get out of bed 15 minutes early.
3. The lunch boxes stink from last week's lunch.
4. I remember what I forgot to buy at the store.
5. The kids always try to “help.”
6. Doug and I argue about the Ho Ho’s he tries to sneak in their bags.
7. I’m concerned the school thinks I’m a “bad nutrition parent.”
8. The kids don’t eat my healthy food, even when I take the extra time.
9. Somebody always leaves their lunch box at school.
10. THE LAST THING I NEED IS ANOTHER THING TO DO IN THE MORNING!

So, what part of your morning routine could you do without?

Oh Christmas Tree

I prefer a real tree, but this year we decided we’d conserve resources and put up an old fake tree we haven’t used in about 5 years (Nick is on the “Go Green” committee at school, and he’s already all over my case for not using recycled wrapping paper).

The kids had been begging to put the tree up.  Even though it had been a long day at the office (and the last thing I felt like doing was decorating a tree), I decided to give in.  Doug had to run a few errands when I got home from work, and I decided to forge ahead without him.  I put on some Christmas music and poured a glass of red wine.  After all, how hard could it be?

As we pulled the fake tree out of the box, I realized the branches were completely smashed.  Not only did we have to put them together one by one, we had to untangle the needles from twisted branches with our bare hands, and I thought my fingers were going to bleed.  I decided to put on gloves.

Finally, it was time to put the lights on.  I told the kids to make sure each string was working before connecting the lights to what was quickly becoming a tangled mess.  I soon realized we had started with the wrong end, so the kids untangled the lights, and we started all over. 

After what seemed like an eternity, we finally strung the lights around the tree a second time (this time with the plug at the right end) and plugged in.  But only half the tree lit up. 

Nick declared that this was the worst Christmas tree ever.  At this point, my blood started to boil.  Where was Doug when I needed him?  I told the kids, “no one touch the tree.”  But no one listened, and everyone was arguing over who failed to detect the broken light string.  So I screamed, “everyone, out of here!”

Now alone, I pulled the lights off the tree and sat in the middle of the living room trying to untangle the lights a third time.  Once I had a string ready, I called for the kids.   “Your job is to each take one string into the other room and test it.” 

As they were testing the lights, I heard Anna scream, “NO!”  Then Abby started crying.  I ran in the other room and asked, “What happened?” 

Nick yelled, “Abby just ate one of the lights!”  I looked over at Abby, and she was chewing. 

“Honey, Mommy told you to test it, not eat it!”

Anna kept screaming, “we’re going to have to take her to the hospital.”   Nick couldn’t watch.
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I yelled again, “shut your mouths and please just pray.” I pulled a couple of chunks of glass out of Abby’s mouth and gave her a big glass of water to wash the rest down.   Nick and Anna’s prayers must have worked, because after that last gulp of water, she quickly settled. 

Nick suggested, “Would it make you happy if we went downstairs and played princesses on the Wii?”  Abby flashed a big smile, and the three of them went to play Wii while I finished decorating the tree.

At least I could put the Christmas music back on and work in peace.  But isn’t decorating a tree supposed to be a magical moment with the family?  By the time Doug got home, I finally had things under control, but I was still bitter.  Why do I forget what Christmas is really about and let the little things get the best of me? 

What about this holiday season is getting the best of you?

Saint Nicolas In Action

Now that Nick knows the truth about Santa, he’s having fun with his younger sisters.  He even told me that he’ll help me “play Santa” this year.  After all, knowledge is power.

To get the ball rolling, Nick went out of his way to make Christmas lists for Anna and Abby.  When he ran out of room on Abby’s list he said, “Abby, you can only put one more thing on your list.”

Abby frowned, and Anna replied, “She can ask for more.  After all, Santa can afford it.”

Nick’s eyes locked mine as he said sternly, “Santa has to make it fair for everyone.”  Anna then started to explain that most of the gifts she wants are from Justice, and she’s really concerned about how Santa’s elves are going to get the goods – after all, everyone knows the elves don’t care about fashion.

Before I could respond, Nick started to explain how the elves get the Justice merchandize to the North Pole via an express train (kinda like the Polar Express), and they’ll be sure to get everything in time for Christmas Eve.  Anna looked relieved.  I looked at Nick and thought, “I’ve created a monster.”

Abby then blurted out, “Santa can do anything.”  Anna wasn’t so sure, so she asked,

“Is that really true, can Santa do anything?” 

Before Nick went on another power trip, I jumped in and responded, “Of course not, only God can do everything.”  (Moms are a distant second, with Santa much further down the list.)

Lucky for me, I have my own St. Nicolas in my living room.

Mary or Martha?

The story of Mary and Martha (two of Jesus’ best friends) always gets my attention. Martha is the constant worrier and worker bee who is rushing around to get everything done and ordering everyone around. She’s outraged that everyone around her is plain lazy (or incompetent) and she’s always saying, “do I have to do everything myself?” She brings home the bacon and fries it up in a pan, she’s keeping score of who’s doing what (and who’s not doing what), and she’s always nagging at someone. I get stressed out just watching her.

Martha really annoys me.

I relate more to Mary, who is calm and laid back, sitting at Jesus’ feet. How does Mary get anything done? I don’t think she’s lazy, and I think she probably does more than sit at Jesus’ feet. I think she works -- maybe she even works hard. She just has her priorities ordered, and when the guest of honor arrives in her home she knows better than to run around and try to impress him. Instead, she just sits and listens. Plus, she’s figured out how to delegate. She gives credit where credit is due, and she isn’t a control freak. She orders the schedule. The schedule doesn’t order her. When her meeting cancels unexpectedly, she stops and gets a pedicure. And when her kids don’t have school in the morning, she lets them stay up late and eat popcorn.
She’s known to change plans.

Like Mary, I want to sit at the feet of Jesus and listen.

The problem? Sometimes I feel like I am Mary trapped in Martha’s body. I am a type B person trapped in a type A life. I have a type A job, wear type A clothes, and live in a type A neighborhood. My family’s daily routine has just about no spontaneity let alone flexibility. Everything we do revolves around the “schedule” -- homework, play dates, after school activities, and scheduled appointments. If it’s not on the schedule, you might as well forget it. Sometimes I ask myself, is it possible to live life day by day and just worry about the moment?

Every once in awhile, I live like Mary. But most days, if I’m honest, I look more like Martha.  So, if I was looking at your life from the outside in, would you resemble Mary or Martha? (By the way, I also think that Martha gets stuck doing all the Christmas shopping.)

How I Got Published – Part 1 (Getting An Agent)

Many of you have asked me how I went about getting my book published.  After all, I’m not a full time author, I’m a lawyer. 

It all started with an idea.   I was sitting in an airport.  I had just left my three children ( then ages 5, 3, and 1) for a 3-day overnight trip and found myself praying that Doug wouldn’t feed them too much junk while I was gone or let them watch too much TV, and that we would all be safely united in several days.  I had thought about it before, but I finally decided, “I really need to write a book about this crazy yet fulfilling life of mine as a working mother.”

Of course, it takes time for an idea to really form.  But once it does, I’m one of those people who just can’t let go.  So I started to write.

But I didn’t know anything about publishing.  So what did I do next?  I went out and bought The Complete Idiot’s Guide To Getting Published. (I highly recommend it, by the way.)

It basically said that if you have the time and resources, you can try to sell your book idea directly to a publisher.  But, if you’re new to the writing business, don’t have connections, and don’t have the extra time to invest (or money to self publish), you probably need an agent.

I figured out I needed an agent.

Now, finding an agent is no easy task.  You have to have thick skin, and you have to be patient.  I went to a site called E-Query, and I also started to Google agents who represent clients in women’s issues, spirituality, and Christian living.  I targeted about 30 agents and started to randomly send my query, via email.  (A query is a short introduction to your book idea, including why you think people will want to buy it.  There is a formula to writing a query – something I learned in the Idiot’s Guide.)

I was thrilled when about 10 potential agents responded promptly and asked for more information.  “I’m in business,”  I thought.   So I sent along sample chapters and a more thorough proposal.

Then, I waited.  And waited.

Some of the rejections came early.  I saved some of those emails because they remind me just how far I’ve come (and also how far I have to go).  I can still remember my favorite rejection email from a male agent in New York who told me I was completed self-absorbed and needed to get over myself.   (At that point, I realized that a female agent would probably be a better fit for a book about a working mother.)

And that’s just what happened.  One of the first agents to respond to my query was Rachelle Gardner, a new agent on the scene who already had an incredible presence in publishing and a blog that drew me in.  From one working mother to another, Rachelle quickly understood my vision for the book and related to my writing style (she didn’t even tell me I was self-absorbed or over-the-top).  So when she offered to represent me, I checked her references, prayed about it, and quickly said yes!  (Besides, if I had waited for some of those other agents to respond, I’d die of impatience.)

For me, getting an agent was the first and probably most important step in getting published (it took me about 4 months to secure an agent, which I understand is fast for most first-time authors).  Now that Rachelle’s been an agent for several years, she’s representing all kinds of famous people, and I consider myself quite blessed to have met her when she was young and hungry.

But getting an agent was just the first step in this journey.  Who said anything about a platform?.

Happy Monday

Mondays are always my least favorite day of the week.  After a weekend of hanging out with the kids, Christmas shopping, Sunday School, and baking cookies it’s back to packing lunches, juggling schedules, and fighting holiday traffic. 

Can’t we just fast forward to Wednesday?

On this particular Monday, I was planning to post the top ten reasons I hate packing lunches.  (For the record, packing lunches is my least favorite part of our morning routine – most mornings I’d rather wrestle with Abby over her favorite outfit or listen to Anna complain about her hair.)

So I started to write The Top Ten Reasons I Hate Packing Lunches on this blog, but something about it didn’t feel quite right.  (I’ll save it for another Monday.)  Instead, as I get ready to begin the work week, I find myself being extremely thankful.  Thankful that in this economy I have a job I truly enjoy.  Thankful that I’m paid well to do interesting and challenging work.  And thankful that I have three beautiful children and a loyal husband to come home to every evening.

Mondays aren’t really that bad.  What are you thankful for this Monday?

Santa Baby

Nick and I went out late the other night (after his younger sisters were asleep) to get a jump start on our Christmas shopping. It was the first time we’d been alone in awhile, and I figured it was the time to break the news about Santa.

After all, Nick’s in the third grade now, and I really want him to hear the truth from me, not from the other kids in his class who will probably make fun of him if he still believes in Santa. Besides, I was ready for Nick to really get past all the presents, elves, and reindeer and focus on the real meaning of Christmas. Let’s face it, Santa is known to steal the show from the baby Jesus. One of my favorite episodes of Saturday Night Live is where the Church Lady demonizes Santa and even points out that Santa and Satan have the exact same letters. Could it be more than coincidence?


One of my friends told me about her recollection of sitting on Santa’s lap in the shopping mall, smelling alcohol on his breath, and remembering that he got a little too close when he asked her if she had been a good girl last year. She was completely terrified, and the last thing she wanted was for him to come visit her house when her parents were sleeping. Fortunately, I don’t have any Santa trauma in my past. I really don’t have anything against the guy, but it was just time for Nick to know the truth.

So I started the conversation by asking Nick, “Do the kids in your class believe in Santa?”

It was a short conversation. Nick told me that no one in the third grade believes in Santa anymore and that he really doesn’t either. I asked him when he stopped believing in Santa, and he told me that last year when Doug and I had screwed up the wrapping paper and Abby received two pairs of the same shoes, he figured out that Santa would have never made such mistakes. After all, Santa is supposed to be perfect. Parents are human.

Nick agreed that this year he’ll just focus on celebrating the birth of Christ and let his younger sisters continue to believe in Santa until they’re old enough to understand. For now, Santa Baby is our secret.

Getting Started

A year ago, I didn’t even know what a blog was. But when you’re about to publish a book and you decide it’s time to get serious about writing, you quickly learn.

For those of you who are new to this, this is what you call a blog.  For those of you who aren’t new to this, I’m asking you (yes, even begging you) to help me learn the ropes.

Please comment and contribute. Don’t get angry with me when I don’t respond promptly (remember, I also have a day job), tell me when my posts are redundant and uninspiring, and please forgive me if my blog has typos or looks frumpy or unprofessional. I’m a writer not a techno geek. It’s going to take some time (and help from friends more talented than I) to make the blog look cool.  Bear with me. And please tell me if and when other people post trashy stuff on my blog because I’m a mother of young impressionable children and I really would die if my children thought their mother had a trashy blog. (I’ll learn how to use the content control settings soon enough.) Let’s keep it PG.

So, how did I get into this blogging stuff anyway? The answer is easy. I wrote a book. Then, my wise and trusty agent, Rachelle Gardner, told me to start a blog. So here I am. Writing. Blogging. Waiting for my book to be published. (In the days to come I’ll tell you about how I went about getting published.)

What is my blog about?  It’s about the same thing my book, Chasing Superwoman, is about. It’s about trying to do it all -- work, home, kids, marriage, friends -- and trying to do it all well. Too many of us are just surviving, and I for one want to do more than survive. I want to live out my God-given calling and make a difference in this world. I want to be a woman of faith, a role model to my children, and an inspiration and blessing to those around me.

Yes, some days I even want to be Superwoman. But you’ll have to read more about that later.

Why Write?

Why do I write? It’s not like I need something else to do in my spare (or not so spare) time. I’m already too busy -- most days I can barely keep up with the demands of work and home -- yet somehow I squeeze writing into my life like an extra pound of flesh that really has no business fitting into a skinny pair of jeans.


So why do I do it? For one thing, writing is therapeutic. I like to hear myself talk in my head. I don’t need an audience. It’s fun. It’s natural. It’s cheap entertainment. I can write anytime and anywhere. I can write when my kids are sitting next to me hanging over my laptop or when they are fast asleep in bed. When it’s time for bed and 3-year-old Abby is scared of monsters and I promise her I will sit in the hallway until she falls asleep, I can take my laptop with me. The time flies, and before I know it an hour or two has passed. I don’t know where the time goes when I’m writing.

Sometimes I write on airplanes or in hotel rooms. It helps me feel connected to the people I love most when I’m away from home. In fact, some of my best writing about my family is when I’m away from them. My head becomes clear with a little distance, and I remember not to take the little things I love about my family for granted. And when I write on airplanes, it helps me not to think about the plane crashing or the fact that I feel airsick even though I took my regular dose of Dramamine. Writing keeps me calm.

I can’t remember a time I didn’t write. I started to keep a diary as a young girl, wrote my first “book” in the third grade, and continued to journal throughout my adult life, knowing I would write a book when the window opened and I had the courage and stamina to jump through it. Writing is addictive. And when the spirit to write is in my soul, sometimes I just can’t stop.

So as long as I can breathe and think, I plan to write.