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Finding My Courage

The hotel room is dark. Maile is asleep in the bed beside me. A short line of white light shines under the door on the other side of the room. The yellow street lights glow between the blinds. The air conditioner hums, and the room smells the way hotel rooms normally do: muffled, reused, artificially clean.

Maile and I spent the evening of Father’s Day at a restaurant, catching up on the things we rarely find time to talk about when our six children are around. We laughed. We gave each other parenting pep talks. We visited a bookstore and meandered through the aisles, picking up books, considering them, putting them down. Look at this one, we said. Read the back of this. Books have always been our love language. I bought two because buying books is my loveliest addiction.

We came back to the hotel, watched a movie, watched another. We held hands. She fell asleep. Now it’s just me awake, the day nearly done.

* * * * *

It’s been almost a month since I’ve been around these blogging parts. I’ve had to put the blog on the back burner, now that I’m finishing a manuscript, promoting The Edge of Over There, getting ready to spread the word about Once We Were Strangers. (You can preorder both of those by the way, and if you do I’ll love you forever.) But I miss blogging. I miss the casual nature of this place, the day-to-day sharing. I miss hearing from you.

Writing novels is what I have always wanted to do, and now I’m doing it, and it’s nothing like what I thought it would be. Maybe I’ll talk about that sometime, but not tonight. I’m too tired. Tonight, I want to tell you about a phone call we got while we were coming back to the hotel.

Maile talked to her mom and she told us Leo was learning to swim. Our brown-eyed, curly-haired boy had taken off his floaties and learned to stay above water on his own. It wasn’t that long ago he was scared of it all, sitting at the edge of the pool and kicking his feet. But now he’s jumping in, doggy-paddling his little heart out, lifting his chin and grinning and spitting out water. Clinging to the side, yes, but ready and willing to head back out.

A few weeks ago, we were at the Gulf of Mexico, and for the first few hours, he ran from the waves. He scampered along the shore, running in long arcs as the waves stretched up towards dry sand. He’d follow them back down, then turn and dart for safety when the next wave came.

But over the next few days, he found his courage, standing in the water as the undertow pulled the sand over his feet. He started wading in a little further, jumping up over the foam. By the end, he was sitting in the gulf, letting the waves crash into him.

Leo the lion had found his way, and the thing that once terrified him became the source of his enjoyment.

* * * * *

I confess: I am sometimes terrified of the vulnerability of publishing books. I am afraid the waves of writing will wash me away, carry me under. I am scared of what people will think, what I might think years from now when I read back on my first, early efforts. I wonder if I can keep doing this for years and years, even if I never have a bestseller, even if I go on being me and only me. As if being me-and-only-me is something to avoid, or overcome.

But I watch Leo, and he helps me find my courage. If a 3-year-old boy can face down the entire Gulf of Mexico and smile as the waves crash over him, I can write my best book and laugh at the waves that come, whatever they might bring.

So can you.

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Watching My Daughter and Her Grandfather and the 70 Years Between Them

She walks ahead of him. Now that he has agreed to follow her outside, she seems to have forgotten he is even there. She is only two, after all, and her sights moved rather quickly from getting someone to open the back door for her, to getting someone to go out with her, to getting someone to walk into the neighbor’s yard with her, and now she’s eyeing up the slide, the grass scratchy on her feet, the May sun hot, the May air humid.

Her grandfather walks quietly behind, hands at his side, staring at the grass and then at the fruit trees he planted and then at his granddaughter climbing the slide.

“You can do it, Poppy,” he says in a sing-song voice.

“Yep,” she says, because that is her answer to almost everything these days. Yep. She doesn’t have time for much else. She’s always on her way to the next thing.

So he stands there and watches her climb, this grandfather of hers. He is 70 years older than her. Think about that for a moment. 70 years. Seven decades. Seven long and large chunks of ten years each. He lived his own childhood, his own growing up years, lived with and left his own siblings, his own house. He came of age, got a job, married, had kids. Had a career. Lived through the death of friends and family members. Had his own tragedies, personal and public. Lost his own grandfather, his own father and mother. And now there he is, 72 years old, standing in the back yard of his North Carolina house, watching his granddaughter climb a slide. She loses her grip and slides down part of the way. Climbs back up.

She has all of those things ahead of her, the growing up and the leaving and the figuring things out, the birth and death of friends and family, the triumphs, the times that will make her weep with joy or sadness. But right now she is thinking only of the slide she is trying to climb, and the sky above her, and the heat that holds her. She is the center of the universe.

I watch them through the glass door, thinking of my own grandfathers, both of whom died before I was of the age when I could appreciate them fully. Both of them had lived lifetimes, and our paths crossed for such a short time, and I stare out the glass thinking of how our paths are always crossing, lifetimes between us. The old getting older, the young never catching up but old before they know it, looking down at brand new babies and wondering where all the time has gone.

I wonder that now myself. Often. Where has all the time gone?

“You can do it, Poppy,” he says again, and she turns at the top, and she smiles, and she lets go.

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It Took Almost Four Years to Get Here, But Here We Are!

Four years ago, after months of rejections and waffling back and forth, I made the decision to self-publish The Day the Angels Fell. I would lose two high school classmates within a year, something that brought to the forefront of my mind the central question of the book, “Could it be possible that death is a gift?” I knew I had to publish it, even if I had to do it on my own.

But I didn’t have to do it on my own, because you helped me. At the end of 2014, many of you supported my Kickstarter campaign, helping me cover the costs, and I mailed out hundreds of copies. I began writing the sequel the following year. And then life presented me with a different course, something entirely unexpected.

The Day the Angels Fell was picked up by a publisher, along with the sequel, a book in its infancy that I had already titled The Edge of Over There.

More time passed.

What can we do with all of these days, these seasons, these years? How can we measure their passing? A day is like a thousand years, and a thousand years is like a day. In those early days of 2016, July of 2018 felt impossibly far off.

Yet, here we are. The Edge of Over There is available, officially releasing on July 3rd, less than two months away.

And I need your help again!

When The Day the Angels Fell came out, I was a new author with no sales history, and online booksellers placed their initial order based on a very small number of preorders. When the book released, Amazon sold out within hours, as did other online retailers.

I’d like it to go a little differently this time around. This is where you come in.

I’d love if you would take the time today to preorder The Edge of Over There. I’ve listed various places you can do that at the bottom of this message. Preordering a book is one of the best ways you can support the writers you love because it helps that book gain valuable, early momentum and serves to highlight a book to retailers inundated with thousands of possible titles a month.

But I know it can be a stretch, ordering a book that you won’t be able to read right away. So, if you preorder The Edge of Over There, I’m offering you this:

My undying gratitude.

AND

I’ll include you in an invitation to a book release party that will take place in Lancaster, PA, sometime in August, 2018 (once the exact date and location have been determined, I’ll let you know)

AND

I’ll send you a chapter from The Edge of Over There!

AND

On release day, July 3rd, I’ll email you a link to a video I’m making that describes the elements of writing and how to begin your own novel. Maybe this is something you would enjoy. Maybe this is something you want to have for your kids to watch and try out for themselves in the middle of the summer when everyone is losing their sanity and searching for something fun to do. Whoever it’s for, if you want this video, preorder The Edge of Over There today!

Once you’ve placed your order, head HERE to input your information and make sure you receive the invitation and the chapter and the video and oh yes the undying gratitude as well.

And if you haven’t read The Day the Angels Fell yet, you still have time before the sequel releases! What are you waiting for?

Here’s where you can preorder The Edge of Over There (along with the list-price as of 5/7):

Aaron’s Books in Lititz, PA – call 717-627-1990
Amazon (currently $17.99)
Baker Bookhouse (currently $12.59)
Barnes and Noble (currently $17.99)
Books-a-Million (currently $17.99)
Christianbook.com (currently $11.99)
Hearts and Minds Bookstore (currently %20 off)

Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!

P.S. If you would like to join our FB book launch group, you can do that here. You’ll get a free digital version of the book prior to release in exchange for an online review and your help in spreading the word about the book!

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A Follow Up to that One Blog Post I Wrote About Sam Thinking Maile Went to College to be a Mom

The older four kids were in the kitchen, slicing, dicing, and making dinner. At one point they kicked Sammy out (he was rather pleased at that result), but I insisted they take him back. It was a team effort. Everyone needed to have a job. I chased Poppy and Leo around the house, wrangling them into their pajamas, reading stories, turning out lights.

Where was Maile? Locked in the bedroom, writing for two hours.

Two weeks after I wrote one of my most-read blog posts of all time, we are figuring it out. Maile is getting regular writing time, and the house isn’t falling apart. Well, sometimes it does, but that’s okay, because we’re all doing what we can, and sometimes when you make meaningful changes in life, inconsequential things fall to the side.

The key for Maile and I has been sitting down every week on Sunday night or Monday morning and scheduling her writing time. We’re learning that if it’s in the schedule, we make it happen. And her story is progressing. She’s a wonderful writer. I can’t wait for you to read it.

* * * * *

After that blog post, Maile got inundated with texts and emails and FB messages from friends and strangers wanting to encourage her and voice their commiseration. Don’t be offended if she didn’t write you back – she’s an introvert with very little interest in the Interwebs. Apparently, this problem we went thorugh is a thing. Apparently, there are people (primarily women) who are reaching a certain point in life, looking around, and wondering, what the hell? Where did *I* go? Where did the person go who had goals and dreams and hopes? How did my diploma get buried under diapers?

If this is you, have the hard conversations. Bring it up with your spouse, your partner, your parents, your kids. Because, here’s the thing: you will be a better parent/spouse/child/partner when you have time to do the thing that makes you come alive.

* * * * *

Today, my friend Jen Fulwiler’s book comes out: One Beautiful Dream.

Work and family, individuality and motherhood, the creative life and family life—women are told constantly that they can’t have it all. One Beautiful Dream is the deeply personal, often humorous tale of what happened when one woman dared to believe that you can have it all—if you’re willing to reimagine what having it all looks like. 

Jennifer Fulwiler is the last person you might expect to be the mother of six young children. First of all, she’s an introvert only child, self-described workaholic, and former atheist who never intended to have a family. Oh, and Jennifer has a blood-clotting disorder exacerbated by pregnancy that has threatened her life on more than one occasion.

One Beautiful Dream is the story of what happens when one woman embarks on the wild experiment of chasing her dreams with multiple kids in diapers. It’s the tale of learning that opening your life to others means that everything will get noisy and chaotic, but that it is in this mess that you’ll find real joy.

I can’t wait to read this book. It fits so perfectly with the conversations we’ve been having around our house. Maybe you should read it, too.

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Five Books You Should Check Out

Based on a true story! Mia has a quarter to toss in the fountain for a wish. She doesn’t want ice cream or a puppy, but something more. What is Mia’s one wish? A story about an adopted little girl discovering the love and security that all children (and grown-ups!) crave.

 

Three months into her pregnancy with her first child, Hilary Yancey received a phone call that changed everything. As she learned the diagnosis-cleft lip and palate, a missing right eye, possible breathing complications-Hilary began to pray in earnest. Even in the midst of these findings, she prayed that God would heal her son. God could do a miracle unlike anything she had seen. Only when Hilary held her baby, Jack, in her arms for the first time did she realize God had given her something drastically different than what she had demanded.

 

In her friendly, relatable style, Bogel shares engaging personal stories that show firsthand how understanding personality can revolutionize the way we live, love, work, and pray.

 

 

 

 

The search for glory will bring freedom and a fresh perspective to whatever season you happen to find yourself in. Glory Happening is a book of stories and prayers that remind you to take a closer look at your everyday circumstances, to find the magical beauty in everyday experiences.

 

 

 

 

At Home in the World follows the Oxenreiders journey from China to New Zealand, Ethiopia to England, and more. They traverse bumpy roads, stand in awe before a waterfall that feels like the edge of the earth, and chase each other through three-foot-wide passageways in Venice. And all the while Tsh grapples with the concept of home, as she learns what it means to be lost—yet at home—in the world.