Hummingbirds, Snails, and a Heron

Oh my. The fires should be enough to tell me I’m in a different land, but there are so many other signs. Forget the obvious ones, like cactuses and palm trees. I can honestly say I’ve never seen as many hummingbirds as I have in the past few months. I’m sure they exist in the northeast and southeast, but I don’t remember seeing them. I admire their blurry-winged flights daily here. While walking up to a neighbor’s door the other evening, I gasped because I almost stepped on a snail. I can count on one hand the number of times I’ve come across one of those. And then one of my favorite encounters . . . I was banging away at my keyboard, working out the final pages of my WIP, when a fascinating heron lands on our deck and decides to perform an elaborate act. Highly entertaining. Five stars. Needless to say, it was a lovely distraction.

I’m enjoying being awake to my surroundings here.

I’ve forgotten what rain sounds like. I almost ran downstairs last week because I thought it might be raining and I wanted to see it, but the gushing sound was only the lawn sprinklers. Certain trees rain here though. Not really, but they drizzle on your head. I haven’t figured out the name of these raining trees, but I have identified that they have flower blossoms in them. It’s pretty wild, and if I close my eyes when I’m under one of these trees I like to pretend I’m being rained on.

I share these things for two reasons. One, paying attention to everything around me helps me to feel more engaged with life. Two, moving like this has done a real number on selecting settings for my novels. Connecticut or New England has been home to most of my characters. I lived there for almost half of my life. It’s the place where my roots had the best chance to grow. During the short stopover in Georgia, I tried to envision characters there. Georgia never cemented as a fresh setting. California, however, is vining around me like a gorgeous Clematis. My eyes are opening to its thriving habitat, the land, and the people. I’m taking it all in. And maybe one day it’ll show up as the backdrop to a whole new cast of characters. Wonder if a heron will show up in that book?

Fighting Dispiritedness

We’ve begun the initial stages of settling in to our new home. Painting. Arranging furniture. Recycling boxes. While I feel incredibly peaceful in this house, the weight of the world feels heavy lately. I’m disgusted and dispirited by irresponsible and heartbreaking politics, callous impulsivity, and a real lack of empathy and understanding in our culture. Often when I encounter this type of reaction I retreat. I shrink inside myself, tempting to block out the world—to insulate as a form of protection.

However, in time I’ve learned there are better ways for me to rise above moments of deep disappointment with the world we live in.

Eight Ways I Fight Dispiritedness

Initiate Meaningful Conversation

Not everyone agrees with me. Some may think the world is just fine as it is, some may even say it’s improving. Those are the folks I try to initiate conversations with. I don’t go in with a Debbie Downer approach, but I do believe the most successful road toward change is establishing a broad understanding of the path we’re on, this includes the people we’re walking beside. I have learned to have healthy, robust exchanges. We can disagree, that’s fine. But I crave for people to think. What gets me down more than anything is when people blindly back someone or a decision without garnering understanding first.

Get Outside

I know my triggers and when the world presses in with great intensity and I find myself unshakably sad, the outdoors calls. It’s restorative for me. I’m exceedingly grateful we moved to a place with a calming view and nearby outdoor playgrounds for me—the mountains, the beach, etc.

Seek to Understand

My husband often says, “But the world has always been a mess.” True. But as someone living here and now, I’m driven to understand what it is about our culture that’s pervasively destructive. What’s destroying us? I step back and take time to figure out specifically what it is that’s angering me so much, then I try really hard to dissect the situation, viewing it from unique perspectives.

Speak Up

As I feel led, I’ll reach out to those in a position of power, those who could incite change. I’ll become more vocal. I’ll root around for my voice, then use it.

Write

It’s what I do. For over twenty years the best way for me to sort through anything has been to get it down on paper. It’s freeing somehow.

Check in with My Kids

I have a major responsibility and I don’t take it lightly. I’m raising a new generation of thinkers. Of voters. Of doers. Of changers. I dialogue with my kids and share with them, as appropriate, the things that rattle me about this current climate. I’m curious, does it rattle them? Will she be the one to put an end to this or to create radical change?

I Laugh

It’s so basic, but it’s medicinal for me. Truly. It changes how my brain works. My youngest showed me this video not long ago of a little girl who’s renamed ice cream. I crack up every time I watch. I think it’s healing me somehow—laughter and this video. Maybe it’s the innocence of it all.

Hold Strong to Hope

I don’t always feel my faith. I wrestle more than I care to admit. But neither of those confessed truths alter the reality of hope. It exists. It’s steadfast. And trustworthy whether I cling to it or not. We have a God so billowing with love he won’t ever quit on us even as we destroy all he’s given us.

It can get rough out there, people. I strongly encourage you to figure out what will help you combat the dispiritedness. Because you’re necessary here. We need you. Change awaits.

The Case of the Come Around Fox

I was having a day when I really felt like the mom of teenagers yesterday. Which led me to wake up with a strong desire for some inspiration—a refreshed start.

After getting my two older daughters off to school, and in the process of preparing my youngest for the bus, I thought to myself—well, actually it was more like I prayer…I prayed that today I’d spy the fox. You see, there’s this mystical, playful red fox that likes to visit our backyard about three or four times a year. And whenever I see it I’m awed. I’d call that fox my muse, but I almost feel it goes beyond writing. Whenever that fox comes around, my entire creative being is put at peace while simultaneously lit with a rejuvenated fire. I’d seen the fox recently so I sort of laughed off my request, feeling silly. And needy. For something that wouldn’t make a whole lot of sense to anyone else. But that’s just it. That fox conjures some sort of mysterious wonder in me.

People ask me sometimes why I believe in God. I’ve experienced countless instances in my life when God has revealed his authenticity to me. Add this morning to that list. I ask, in a tired whisper, for one fox.

And I get two.

I joyfully watched these two frolic and scout the yard with my youngest for fifteen minutes. And like that, my day was infused with a brightened hope.

Until the Writer in Me Was Born + A Mother's Day Giveaway

If I were to show you a picture that would offer the slightest hint of how I feel sometimes as a writer it would look like this… 

 

I came across this tree not far from my house while out walking yesterday. Immediately I was struck by the wonder of a tree growing inside a tree. At the same time, it made perfect sense.

The following quote from Sharon Draper’s Out of My Mind does a nice job capturing the sentiment this tree conjures in me.

From the time I was really little—maybe just a few months old—words were like sweet, liquid gifts, and I drank them like lemonade. I could almost taste them. They made my jumbled thoughts and feelings have substance. My parents have always blanketed me with conversation. They chattered and babbled. They verbalized and vocalized. My father sang to me. My mother whispered her strength into my ear.

Every word my parents spoke to me or about me I absorbed and kept and remembered. All of them.

I have no idea how I untangled the complicated process of words and thought, but it happened quickly and naturally. By the time I was two, all my memories had words, and all my words had meanings.

But only in my head.

~~~

That is until the writer in me was born. That’s how I’d finish the quote.

What does this photo make you think of?

 

Also, for a chance to enter this fantastic Mother's Day Giveaway click here!

Choosing to Take Care of Myself

 

This time of year blending in with my blankets until spring really appeals to me. My bones are cold and I get all slumpy. So I have to be intentional about getting out of bed and maintaining a healthy perspective. It’s also birthday month. Everyone in my family was born this month but me. Which means I switch into a turbo caretaker role. And for some reason, I thought it would be a wise idea to launch a new novel next month on top of all that.  

All of this means I must become more cognizant about how I’m choosing to take care of myself during the winter. I know my head is susceptible of slipping into hibernation mode at any given moment. 

Today I wanted to share a few things that I pay attention to more to help me skate through the winter months relatively unscathed. 

*Exercise (treadmill, yoga, dancing with my girls…anything just to keep the body moving)

*Time outside (nature has always been a salve to my soul)

*Staying connected (making time for friends and loved ones ensures I won’t turn all agoraphobic when the icicles start growing)

*Vitamin D (my sister reminded me of this one the other day and I forgot how much it helps when I’m lacking sun and my sleep is wonky)

*Water (I’m a major slack with this but I feel so much better when I’m downing H20)

*Time immersed in quiet (for prayer, reflection, planning, brainstorming…or pure quiet—it’s absolutely essential for all around health)

 

Do you find you have to get more intentional about taking care of yourself during the cold bone months?

 

Changing How We React to Obstacles

I want to cultivate the tenacity of a well-known delicate-winged creature. I’m talking butterflies and I’m talking migration.

This isn’t some post about wanderlust or an insatiable desire to pack my things and hightail it to the Florida Keys because my nose runs every time I step outside. No, I’m referring to what it takes to push through when the winds kick up and food becomes sparse. Gusty gales and times of hunger come for all of us, though they’re disguised differently. A rush of wind knocks us flat on our faces when we lose a job or a loved one. Hunger pangs are triggered in times of loneliness or whenever our vision grows cloudy. 

This is why I admire the Monarch’s innate ability to survive—their propensity to endure.

Monarchs are known for powering through a myriad of obstacles, including seasonal snow cover, adverse weather conditions like strong winds and extreme heat, sandstorms, unsuitable habitat, hostile landscapes, and lack of food sources to name just a few.

In case you’re nodding and saying to yourself, “Sure, Wendy, we all want to grow stronger in this area,” let me give you a few more things to think about.

Migrating butterflies adjust. They adjust to their circumstances—to their surroundings.

And yet remarkably, they stay on course. They refuse to allow obstacles to become deterrents. Despite the fact that no single individual makes the round trip, (meaning each flight is entirely new for them) Monarchs handle change with incredible finesse. It’s as though they anticipate complications, quickly acknowledging them, then regardless of what tries to alter their flight, Monarchs fly on.

As I did a little research I read that the Monarch’s flight pattern is not affected by the wind.

Which brings me to these two verses…

“Then we will no longer be infants, tossed back and forth by the waves, and blown here and there by every wind of teaching…” Ephesians 4:14

“But when he asks, he must believe and not doubt, because he who doubts is like a wave of the sea, blown and tossed by the wind.” James 1:6

I’d love for my faith and my commitment to trust to mimic these resilient, beautiful creatures. Certain. Not dismissive of or ignorant to obstacles on my path, but sure and steady despite them.

Has something in nature ever reminded you of who you want to be?

*I also read Monarchs have milkweed in their bodies which is poisonous to most predators looking for a lovely-winged meal. But their wings say back off. Predators spot their wings and receive a ‘don’t mess with me attitude’ in any altitude. Wonder if having the Word in us and “flying” in its strength is like being swollen full of milkweed in the eyes of our enemy? May our wings show it.

**received butterfly info. here & photo by stock.XCHNG