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My Last Blog Post

(The photo is of me breaking the sound barrier on a tricycle during our annual trek to the mountains. I chose this photo because most times this is how my life feels: exhilarating, slightly painful, and more than slightly out-of-control.)

So I’ve decided to stop blogging.

It’s been a much more difficult decision than you would think. I guess because after two and a half years, I’ve come to depend very much on this space as one where I can work out my many and jumbled thoughts. I wish I could somehow express to you how much your readership and comments and kindness have impacted me.

I’ve felt overwhelmed recently by this pressure to build a platform. I am not one who is known for moderation, so it’s no surprise that this blog and the related elements involved in promoting it (ie Facebook and Twitter) have become all-consuming. I need a break from being a platform-builder so that I can be a writer again.

I also need some time to think about what direction my writing life is going to take. I feel a little lost right now as to what I want the next year to look like, and I’m worried that if I just keep doing what I’m currently doing another year will pass in the rather aimless fashion typical of default modes and pre-programmed playlists. I’ve already finished one novel (not sure what to do with that), and I’ve got a second mulling in my brain that I will write this year. I want to focus more on writing short stories and honing my craft. I want to have more time to write for my clients.

Stepping away from the blog does give me a bit of a panic-attack. After all, if you’re a writer these days, it’s all about your platform. Or so they say. But I’ve chosen to see this stepping away from my blog as an act of faith, a deliberate clearing of space in a world where sometimes it’s difficult to find enough space to turn around. Besides, Maile and I have never really followed normal operating procedure, and we continue to be pretty happy with how that’s worked out for us.

Finally to all of you wonderful bloggers out there – you guys and girls have been a huge inspiration to me. Your kindness and support have been incredible. Your willingness to be so transparent and to keep writing the hard stuff is exhilarating. Meeting many of you during our cross-country journey was the highlight of our trip.

So farewell, for now. I’d be willing to bet that I will resume blogging at some point in the future, but I’m committing to at least a year off (or until I land a book deal) (or something else crazy like that).

If you’d like to stay up-to-date regarding what I’m up to, sign up for my email newsletter in the left-hand column – I’ll try to send something out every once in a while. You can also still buy our book, How to Use a Runaway Truck Ramp, HERE. It’s also now available on Kindle HERE.

Send me an email when you think of me! (shawnsmucker@yahoo.com)

Farewell! Adieu! Adios!

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Crisco: Superman’s Weakness

Today I’m posting over at Deeper Church. The post is called “When Crisco is Kryptonite and Candles are Stars.” Here’s a taste:

The kitchen is an explosion of flour and sugar. Cade, Lucy, Abra and Sam sound like chattering monkeys. It is cookie-making day.

Mouths are streaked with chocolate from smuggled chocolate chips. Sam hides behind the sofa, eating cookie dough. Abra inexplicably has flour on the back of her head.

“Okay, Cade,” Maile says. “Pass me the Crisco.”

“Crisco,” Cade says, then adds authoritatively. “That was superman’s weakness.”

Click HERE to go read the rest.

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The Whiny Voices of Anti-Adventure

Today I’m guest posting over at Ed Cyzewski’s blog about “Five Things That 10,000 Miles Taught Me About Being a Father”:

I’ve been trying and failing and trying again at this “Dad” thing for the last ten years, through four children, two continents, seven houses, and a big blue bus. I’ve changed thousands of diapers, denied or fulfilled thousands of late-night water requests, and fell asleep countless times while reading bedtime stories.

Yet none of those things properly prepared me for being a parent during our recent 10,000-mile trip. Here are five things I learned about parenting while we were on the road:

1. Be willing to stop. At more than a few points on our trip, we changed the entire itinerary just so that we could push pause and add some margin to what occasionally became a rather hectic schedule. Many times this was because we could tell our kids needed some quality time with us. Is your life overheating? Pull over and set up camp some place peaceful.

You can read the rest of the story HERE.

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What Kind of a God

An excerpt from How to Use a Runaway Truck Ramp (this section was written by Maile):

So tonight, we begin the final leg of our journey.  Two nights ago, Shawn and I sat across from each other (he on the couch, me in the booth) and decided that his grandma’s failing health was the call beckoning us back a week earlier than we had intended. 

It seems like such a small alteration to the plans: one week. But as I took a walk at our campground in rural Indiana after our decision, I felt so strange.  By the end of the existing week, our trip would be over.  My heart was fragmented with feeling:

Excitement (anticipating the tight hugs and grinning faces of so many folks that we love and miss.)

Regret (were there things left undone on this trip, moments I missed or didn’t hold quite long enough?)

Sadness (when anything great ends, sadness is always an appropriate response.)

Celebration (when anything great ends, celebration is always an appropriate response.)

Fear (that our great adventure has come to an end; that a humdrum existence is all we can expect from here on out.)

I shared that last feeling with a friend over email yesterday.  But as I wrote it, my fear dissipated; fear has gotten more feeble on this journey. So I wrote this to my friend: “But I also know that God is far more wild than that.”

In the past 4 months, I’ve seen more beauty than in my entire life up to this point. It was holy yet tangled, majestic yet terrifying, serene yet treacherous. And I found myself often asking this question: “What kind of a God makes a creation like this?” 

A wild one.

* * * * *

Thanks to the following bloggers for reviewing or announcing our book (check these folks out if you get a chance):

Scott Bennett
Pilar Arsenec
Kelly Chripczuk
The Messy Middle

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The Isolation that Comes With So-Short Days

In the summer, when everything is cloaked in heat waves that squirm up off the pavement, I feel very much part of the physical world around me. Somehow the warm temperatures glue all the molecules together. I am not only me, but I am also the ground I walk on, the sky above me, and the air that I take in. Even sounds and smells feel like an extension of my skin.

But in the winter I feel separated. I am only me, and I am aware of the cold sidewalk and the streets I cannot cross and the smells that come from somewhere else.

There is an isolation that comes with the cold and these so-short days.

Yet there is also space and distance. These smallest of margins leave room for retrospection. There is time to stop on this long walk along the old stone wall and put the stones back in place, to lift them from the hard ground and build something beautiful.

Today I am embracing the space.

Something there is that doesn’t love a wall,
That wants it down.      – Robert Frost, “Mending Wall”

* * * * *

Here are some posts by a few more folks extolling the virtues of How to Use a Runaway Truck Ramp. Check them out if you get a chance:

Clay Morgan
Michelle Woodman
Alise Wright
Team Aidan

Or buy your own copy HERE.

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A Christmas Decree

Some excerpts from posts in the world wide web that got my attention in the last week:

Does this way we celebrate Jesus’ birth shout love, grace and peace or does it leave the have-nots feeling more empty, more alone and more broken than ever?

* * * * *

The days truly are evil and the steady march of time has a numbing effect. We have work to go to, bills to pay, parties to plan, housework to attend to, TV shows to watch. Being vigilant doesn’t mean not doing those things—but it does mean being intentional about which of those things to do and when. To make a choice with each minute and hour, knowing that time is precious and once past, is past forever.

* * * * *

Finally, we sent a decree into the land: All children of ours shall be home for dinner Monday evening, to enjoy one another’s company, to light the Advent candles, and to decorate the tree, while festively drinking hot cocoa and eggnog (dammit!).

* * * * *

I look at the mysteries in my own life and while there are days they make me want to weep, right now I look at them with awe. Such possibility awaits. Anything could happen today, next week, next year.

* * * * *

“Maybe you’ll be artist.” I said, hoping to encourage him. “Maybe you already are.”

His answer was as quick as a his shifting third grade body. “Nah.”

I cocked my head.

“My parents want me to be an engineer.” And he walked away.

* * * * *

It should be noted that Level One Christmas decorating has not been achieved since I let my prescription for Adderall lapse over four years ago.

* * * * *

We are your people, walking in darkness, yet seeking the light.