Oddly enough, I found a cell phone while walking through the woods near my son's art class. I planned to charge the phone, look for a home number and call the owner of the phone. Of course, being me, I immediately thought, "I wonder if this beat up phone belongs to a drug dealer." Then dismissed the thought as pure imagination.
My son, being much more technically savvy than I am, managed to figure out that the phone was still charged. He turned it on, and I scrolled through the contact list, hoping to find a home number. Guess what I found? An entry titled "Probation" and one titled "Weed".
As I was contemplating my next move, the phone rang and some loud music spewed from it. Immediately, I had visions of tracking devices and gang members, drug feuds and me and my kids caught in the middle.
I decided then and there that the owner of the phone could do without a call from me. I thought about mailing the phone to the police, but decided I'd feel too much like an idiot. I mean, maybe "weed" was someones last name. And maybe probation was....well, something other than what I thought.
Regardless, the phone was turned off and deposited in a lost and found.
Somehow I doubt it will ever be retrieved.
Monday, October 27, 2008
So said my seven-year-old daughter to a new girl in her jazz class. Knowing my daughter and her love of words, music and dance, this didn't surprise me. However, the mother of the girl E was talking to was struck by it enough that she told her sister-in-law who came to me and asked if I'd heard my daughter's words.
I relayed the conversation and E's words to my youngest sister who said, "Wow. That's passion."
And that got me thinking.
What is it that makes a dancer work so hard for so long for so little encouragement? What drives an artist or musician to face criticism and critique, rejection and failure? How does a gymnast or a football player face physical pain, fear and heartache over and over again without quitting? What is it that compells a writer to write when her words may never be read, her story never told?
Is it only passion? To me passion is something that waxes and wanes. It may be there one day and not the next. What lives inside the person who is successful despite astounding odds is something different. Drive, determination and, most importantly, resiliancy. The person who continues to pursue his or her passion is the one who can take a punch, shrug it off and keep going. She is the person who works not just for the accolades and trophies, but for the sheer joy of self expression. She is the person who listens and learns, who is not afraid to fail because she understands that only in failing can she succeed.
That is passion. That is heart. That is courage. That is success.
Saturday, October 25, 2008
I just wanted to get that out. After suffering through one for the past twelve hours, I'm completely disgusted by the fact that my head refuses to listen to my mind which is telling it to stop hurting!
To make myself happier, I've been contemplating things I love. I'm posting one of those things here.
Usually, I don't post photos of kids, but I figure they're all in a group, I've posted no names and no one knows where any of them live....so....here's to my nieces and nephews (of which I have many). These are the nephews and nieces from my side of the family. Two are missing. My sister's kids (the ones playing games after hurricane Ike). My husband's side of the family is smaller, and I won't post pictures of them.
Wednesday, October 22, 2008
This is the question that has been foremost in my mind for the past few weeks. I decided that when I moved to Spokane I would connect to people by finding writing groups. I've found the local chapter of the RWA (yay!), but still haven't found a Christian fiction writers group.
What's that about?
Surely I'm not the only Christian fiction writer in Spokane.
The one group I did find meets during the day. Not a good time for a homeschool mom.
On-line groups are great, but there's something much more intimate and fun about meeting people face to face. The exchange of ideas, of creative energy helps me renew as a writer.
On a completely different note...my dog is in love with the cow next door. Or maybe the cow is in love with my dog. Today, I was out walking in the yard and the cow was watching intently as Rushmore raced after me. Seconds later, the cow let out a very deep bellow. To me, it sounded like unrequited love. Then again, I'm not so great at cow-speak. If I wrote LI, I'd think that would be a perfect way for heroine and hero to meet - over a lovesick cow and puppy.
What does the picture of a heart-shaped rock have to do with any of this? My son found the rock in our field. Without showing it to me, he went inside and wrote "I love you" on it. Then he brought it out and handed it to me. Which has nothing to do with anything except how very sweet my ten-year-old is!