Onward

We’re a soccer house. Every time the U.S. Women’s team takes on a new opponent in the World Cup we are glued to the TV, cheering them on. Over half of us in my family have played at one time or another, so we know the sport well. {My older sister was also a superstar soccer player, earning All-American several times, meeting Pele, and playing for UConn.} We act like commentators, sharing our reviews of stand-out plays and particularly dirty fouls. You’ll often catch me talking to the TV, gesturing wildly. Years ago I had the privilege of taking my girls to watch the U.S. Women play against Colombia in Connecticut. It was a freezing, but memorable experience.

It’s edge-of-your-seat exciting whenever a game is on.

Even more, I’m proud of the team. I’m proud of what they’ve done for women’s soccer. I love what they’ve done for women in general.

Go U.S. Women! We’re rooting for you all the way!

Creative Kindness

I’ve become keenly aware of something in the past few weeks. Some people have a real gift with words and others, well, they falter and flounder. I’ve fallen into both categories when facing someone who’s recently lost a loved one. Words are delicate. And hard to shape sometimes.

I’ve felt a particular gratitude for friends who’ve shown up in creative ways recently. They’ve supported and loved through unexpected means. Their efforts have really resonated with me. Offers to hike. A glass blown ornament in the mail from one dear friend, and from another a bookstore jigsaw puzzle (I tap into my inner nerd and go nuts with jigsaw puzzles). Others threw out book recommendations at a time I was desperate to get hooked on a new novel. Another friend, and fellow author, read one of my books and encouraged me regarding the concept, peppering me with questions born of curiosity. Her investment in my work accomplished something profound. She pulled me back to what I love—a key reason I feel rooted here.

Friends and loved ones have been generously kind. Thoughtful and consistently caring. The kindness has come in all forms. In my weakness, I’ve accepted all of it. And I’ve learned something. Bestowing creative kindness to someone who’s hurting is one of the most impactful decisions we can make. They’ll remember that kind of love.

I know I will.

Six Things Writing & Grieving Have in Common

Losing someone you love has a way of stirring up a lot of reflective thinking. In this quiet season of letting go I’ve been thinking about some of the ways grieving is similar to what I do every day—crafting novels.

Here’s what I came up with . . .

Writing & grieving—

Force you to think about intention and purpose

Whether it’s mourning the loss of a loved one or hunkering down to edit, you spend a good deal of time considering why you or your character exists. Little things start to matter. Like simple acts of kindness. Thought is given to all that came before, every season of life that led to this present place. It’s a soul-rubbing process. An awakening and embracing of what’s to come.

Challenge you to take a step back and look at the world differently

One shot. You consider this as you awkwardly stumble through the reality of saying goodbye to a person or a manuscript. One shot at life. One shot with a novel. Making your words and actions count becomes exponentially more important as this reality settles in.

Require you to get honest with emotion

You ugly cry. You dive deep with the characters, rooting to the real reasons they behave the way they do. Grieving and writing draw out our weaknesses and our vulnerabilities. They push, prod, and poke until we’re raw with pain, driving us to the point we’re willing to let go. There’s a certain surrender grief and creativity share, it’s a beautiful release that feels all at once agonizing and wonderful.

Bring out the historian in you

You research a town. Expressions on people’s faces. You drag out photos of your loved one. Old letters. You take that walk down memory lane. You create a memory lane as an author and student of your characters. Things and moments gone by gain a fresh pertinence. A newfound appreciation.

Conjure thoughts about character and influence

Who do you want to be? Who do you want your characters to be? These questions take on more relevance. How will I impact others? What imprint am I leaving on the world?

Shed light on the unnecessary so easily mistaken as necessary

The picture you forgot to post. The comeback you never got to use. The unwashed dishes or dusty floors. As soon as you commit to life as a writer, if you pay close attention, you’ll identify distractions creeping up from everywhere. These life interferences dress in bold colors when you’re grieving. There’s nothing sneaky about them. Whether you’re working on a book or hurting in the aftermath of a death, the unnecessary will hover. The unnecessary is patient. A constant. There’s nothing quite like losing someone to help you filter through what’s important and what’s not.

This is why I love fellow writers. We’re not what I would call shallow people. We go deep. We dare to be vulnerable. Sure, sometimes we can be a little intense or caught up in our own imaginary worlds, but it’s so much fun leading you into those worlds with us.

My friend Kim Hooper’s book TINY releases this week. I’ve read her work before and she has a way of depicting characters in such an honest and compelling manner. I cannot wait to read this one! I hope you’ll check it out. Kim is a seriously gifted author.

Legacy

In light of the recent loss of my sister I find myself reflecting more than usual. I ask hard questions. It hits me that there’s not a moment to waste. With this in mind, the other night while at dinner, I asked my husband and my three girls what sort of legacy they want to leave. Their answers fascinated me.

One of my daughters surprised me by saying she wanted to be known for being different. It reminded me of something I’d say when I was her age. Something I can even see myself saying now.

Life has been a battering ram lately. Negativity and bitterness slam into me from all angles. I’m determined to fight against it—to tap into a strength I could never conjure on my own. I’m determined to take a different path from the one that tempts me toward anger, jealousy, despair, rage, and all things that distract from a more loving way to live.

The flowers above are growing in our yard. The other day I couldn’t stop looking at them. At first I believed the yellowish-orange roses somehow mysteriously appeared as part of the pink plant. An eye-catching enigma. But upon closer observation, I saw a plant with three stems, three sun-colored roses rising up from the center of the pink plant. It’s those golden flowers that draw the eye. They make the difference. In an instant I figured out why these particular roses captured my attention so substantially. These flowers are an excellent representation of the legacy I want to leave.

The Goodbye Makes the Journey Harder Still

My sister Holly passed away last week. I’ve been grieving hard since I heard the news. Words elude me, hiding in a thick fog.

When I was around ten or eleven she told me she always thought of me whenever she heard this song. . .

Songs are especially poignant for me in this time of grief. Much of the soundtrack of my youth revolved around music Holly admired. I miss her. I miss who she was and who she could have been. I miss all of it.

Still, I cling to hope as I simultaneously learn how to let go.

*I hope you have a peaceful Memorial Day. Make memories and be kind to loved ones. Life is fragile.

How to Become an Anything Girl 101

A few weeks ago I told you about Cadence, a little girl of maybe three or four who confidently introduced herself outside of a mall bathroom, “Hi, I’m Cadence, and I can do anything.” In ways she could never imagine, this child and her gotcha-world stance stuck in my head.

I aspire to adopt Cadence’s attitude toward life every day.

Then there are days I end up sending my daughter texts suggesting the life of a prairie dog could suit me just fine. Whenever the world starts to royally freak me out (I get flipped off by a road ragey driver, or I make the mistake of watching the news for too long) I begin to fall seriously in love with the idea of never stepping foot outside my home again. Prairie dog living sounds ideal. Hide out, then pop up from time to time just so everyone knows I still exist. That pretty much defines how I’ve handled social media lately. After my confessional text to my kid about wanting to be a prairie dog, within seconds we both shot each other an identical GIFs. #wildfun

Here’s the truth: I’m not merely an Anything Girl wannabe. She’s inside me, and like the prairie dog analogy, how I remind the world I haven’t petered out in some hole somewhere, the Anything Girl pops her head up from time to time. It’s a welcome surprise. I like her. She’s ballsy, uninhibited, and

her voice matters. (I’m enjoying addressing myself in 3^rd person a little too much. Stopping now.) In time I’ve learned how to coax the Anything Girl out of me on a whim. If you’re intrigued and tempted to show the world the Anything Girl in you—pay attention.

The following are all things I’ve learned to create the best environment for the Anything Girl in me to thrive—

• The sooner you embrace life is a tangled knot of pain and joy, the better off you’ll be.
• Learn how to not take rejection too personally.
• Establish a circle of trust (nod to Robert De Niro in Meet the Parents). Stick close with the people who encourage you through hard times, celebrate your accomplishments, and those who’ll remain loyal to you through all things. At all times.
• Laugh at yourself as frequently as possible.
• Don’t stuff your emotions.
• Don’t embarrass easily.
• Be willing to try new things and adventures even when they (not if because they will) scare you or you’re afraid.
• Do not—by any means—ever—compare your life and losses and insecurities and dreams and wants and hurts and chin hair or knobby knees or cellulite to anyone else. We are all supposed to be different. And only you can do you (feel free to make a T-shirt with that on it…giving you full permission here).
• Try hard not to control or judge others. Reflect upon and seek to improve your own sloppy ass life first before you rattle on about someone else’s mess. Even better, don’t entertain yourself with rumors or gossip at all.
• Swear occasionally. (See don’t stuff emotions above.)
• Get with your spouse often (you’re welcome, SGM).
• Don’t let the past or your idea of what the future is supposed to look like have more power than your present.
• Find something to be grateful for every day, even if it’s just that you didn’t have to clean toothpaste art off the granite countertop in the kids’ bathroom for once.
• Practice kindness with strangers. And loved ones.
• Seek to understand. All people. All things. And consider staying quiet until you reach a point of deeper understanding.
• Do not consider anyone of a higher or lower worth. Treat everyone with an equal measure of compassion and love.
• Admit faults readily, but use discretion online. Trolls will slay you. Even people who are otherwise reasonably cordial have a tendency to grow claws when their fingers reach the keyboard. Guard your heart. And your head space.
• When your thought life gets exceptionally ugly remind yourself of the limited time you have on earth. I often hear Tim Robbins and Morgan Freeman in my head telling me it comes down to a simple choice. Get busy living or get busy dying.
• Don’t be content with who you were yesterday. Every day strive to improve.
• Understand—I mean really understand that your worth does not come from others’ impressions of you or how tidy or messy your life is.
• Know you will be tempted more times than you could possibly conceive to give up on a dream—that thing inside you sense you’re on earth for. Don’t give up. 

I’m sure I’ll be writing more posts like this one. I hope the list above inspires you to be an Anything Girl (or Guy). The world needs more thoughtful and purpose-focused people leading others toward effective and healing change.

You ready?

*My prairie dog kid ready to hit the dance floor at prom this past weekend—an Anything Girl in training. And if you look closely, you might spot the shadow of a rare enormous prairie dog on the left.

Kermit Is No Joke

I’m not an artist. However, I love to paint. My mom knows this and she surprised me this Mother’s Day by sending me six canvases to try my hand on. (Isn’t that cool my mom sends me gifts for Mother’s Day?) Immediately one of my daughters came up with something she wanted me to paint.

Kermit the Frog. With a cowboy hat. Wearing a Supreme shirt.

Always up for a challenge, I got to work. I sketched, erased, and sketched some more. I dabbed my brush in greens of this shade and that. I even figured out how to tackle the hat (this is turning into a Dr. Seuss post).

The final product –

 Looks exactly like Kermit, huh? ;-)

The point is that I had a fun creating this. I didn’t hold back out of fear. I simply went for it. And I learned that cartoonists have real talent.

Have you tried something out of your comfort zone lately?