Looking forward to 2018

I'm not gonna lie.  I was done with 2017 by about January 27th. And March 12th. And I'm pretty sure I begged for 2018 about 37 1/2 times throughout the year. Somehow I survived with all my fingers and toes still attached, though some family members didn't kept all their body parts. 

I've spent years telling myself, "As soon as I get through this, I'll (insert goal here)."  My great epiphany of 2017 was that life is not going to settle down for me. This is my normal and I'd better figure out some way to cope and move forward.  If things haven't settled down after seven years, they're not going to settle down. 

So I pulled up my big girl panties until I had a wedgie, pulled back my shoulders, and decided to push onward.

This year, I refuse to look back. Only forward.  Goals are set and excitement is building.  Instead of enduring the torrential downpour, I choose to dance in the rain, puddle-jump to my heart's content, marvel at the lightening shooting across the sky, and howl with the thunder as it vibrates through my bones.

No matter what life throws at you, I hope I find you dancing in the rain with me - it's always more fun when you have someone to splash with. May your new year be amazing and filled with wonder.

Happy New Year!

So Much Pain Going Around

by Marsha Ward @MarshaWard

I woke up to the news that a writer acquaintance's missing hunter husband had taken a fall in desolate country and died.

We in the United States are going through the most bitterly contentious and divisive presidential election since 1860.

The daughter of "The Piano Guys'" Jon Schmidt is missing near the Columbia River Gorge in northern Oregon, and official search efforts have been called off, while family and friends soldier on.

So much sadness and despair. So many prayers being offered. What can we do?

I recently posted a meme with an image of Dr. Ben Carson, that tells us what we can do. In his words:

"When we have done our best, we also have to learn that we must rely on God. Our best - no matter how good - is incomplete if we leave God out of the picture."

Vice Presidential candidate Mike Pence has asked us to pray to God to heal America.

That's profound, and echoed by many other wise men and women of our day. Many people will be participating in a "fast" on November 6, with accompanying prayers and with repentant hearts to ask God to do just that.

I agree. It's time for the people of the United States to fall on their knees daily, not just on one special day, to give our hearts to God in supplication, not only for optimal results in a pivotal election, but to ask for comfort and healing for those who mourn.

I know God works in our lives. He has a plan for each of us.

We sing a little song in my church's children's program, in which I am privileged to play the piano. It's called, "I Will Follow God's Plan," written by Vanja Y. Watkins.

My life is a gift; my life has a plan.
My life has a purpose; in heaven it began.
My choice was to come to this lovely home on earth
And seek for God's light to direct me from birth.
I will follow God's plan for me,
Holding fast to his word and his love.
I will work, and I will pray;
I will always walk in his way.
Then I will be happy on earth
And in my home above.

Here's a version from the Mormon Tabernacle Choir:



What are your thoughts?

Writing as Therapy

NOTE:  Well darn it!  I had my post all written and ready to publish on my designated day Thursday.  I thought I had scheduled it to publish, but it did NOT publish on Thursday.  Please forgive me for my post's lateness!


It's been an exciting, yet difficult, couple of months over here.  I started my job as an addictions counselor, and was thrust head-first into the world of addicts.

Being LDS, I've spent most of my life trying to live in the world, but not of the world (John 15: 19). I've gone to great lengths to insulate myself and my family from the influence of Satan, and to keep my mind free from the darkness that sometimes permeates much of the world.

As I came home from a particularly hard day from work this week, I pondered my recent experiences in my new job.  I've, in essence, jumped into that world I've tried so hard to avoid. Now, I'm experiencing the darkest, most vile parts of this world through my patients as they recount the horrors of their lives, and all  the events that led up to their substance use.  The cost is high for someone like myself who has been vigilant about trying to live a Christlike life.  At times, it's as if my spirit is cowering in the recesses of my mind, shrieking in pain as if being poked by a hot iron. Other times, I feel as if I've fallen into a vat of tar. It takes every ounce of my energy to keep moving forward, helping those clients to process their experiences.

I know much of my struggle will eventually calm.  The cuts will scab over, and be replaced by a thicker, more resilient skin. The shrieks will subside into whimpers, and eventually, somewhere down the road, to calm acceptance.

But in the mean time, I've been working desperately to find a way to cope. A way to come home and be present in the lives of my family.  I don't like walking through the front door with my face still moist from tears. I abhor having to run directly up into my room when I haven't seen my children for twelve hours and asking for just fifteen more minutes before I can say hello to them.

So what do I do?  How do I cope?

I write.

I write about those who stand up to the evil around them.  I write comedies.  I reflect upon the good things that have happened in my life, and the efforts my parents put into giving our family a good upbringing.  I pour out my heart and soul onto page after digital page.  Stories that will never be published, or even read by another living soul.  I write to be reminded of all the good that is in the world. To be reminded that what I see as an addictions counselor is but a sliver of humanity.

Writing is this therapist's therapy.  What was once a hobby, has now become my lifeline.  And though my example is a bit extreme, I don't think I'm the only person who uses writing as therapy.  I hear about it all the time among other writers.  I find it fascinating to hear the stories of how writing has helped the lives of so many.

So what is story? Why do you write? I'm sitting here with my hands bridged under my chin, waiting for your answer.  Please share!