Category: Uncategorized

So I’ve been thinking through an idea and am ready to share the beginnings of it with you guys.

I want to have a writer’s conference this fall in Gap, PA.

So far I’ve lined up some great speakers:

Andi Cumbo (professor, tutor, writer extraordinaire) to talk about the beauty and pain of honesty on the page;

Bryan Allain (successful blogger and talented writer and the funniest man IN THE WORLD…or at least in Pennsylvania…c’mon, at least give him Lancaster County?  the east side of Intercourse? – for all you dirty-minded folk out there, that’s the name of a town) ANYWAY, Bryan’s working on an e-book about getting your blog from 50 followers to 500 followers, and he’ll be sharing all/most of his secrets with us;

Ken Mueller from Inkling Media (he’s a social media ninja) will be talking about how to use social media to explore your identity and increase your platform.

I’m also working on lining up some more published authors to create a panel for you to grill (with questions, not over hot coals).  And an agent.  There might be a real, live literary agent in the flesh for us all to question, urgently, about why our unpublished book is not yet on the bestseller lists.

I’m really excited about this event and hope to make it an annual thing. Check out some more details HERE, and let me know if you have any thoughts or suggestions for activities, speakers, or topics you’d like to hear about.  Eventually I hope to have a website up that’s dedicated to the event, but for now we’ll work off the page I just linked.

This is the continuing story of my life last year and into the early part of 2010.

*****

So anyway, it turns out my determination to not get a regular job lasted about four weeks.  By early January I seriously doubted my ability to make a living as a full-time writer.  I’d stare at the screen for hours at a time wondering what it would be like when my kids starting having grandkids and they brought them home…to the basement which we would surely still live in.  I kept looking around that subterranean dwelling (a lovely basement, but a basement nonetheless), and I wondered what I had done to deserve it (you know, all those self-pitying types of thoughts).

“I’m 33 God.  If I would have seen this future when I left college 11 years ago I probably would have jumped head first off the campus bridge and into the Yellow Breeches.”

(The Yellow Breeches is about 32 inches, at its deepest.  Jumping off the covered bridge was a metaphorical threat).

As I continued to dwell on how hopeless my situation seemed, I received an interesting bit of information: there was an employment position open at a local company, and I knew the person doing the hiring very well.

The new part of me, the part that wanted to follow my dream of being a writer, take a radical leap of trust in God and make an attempt at living a simpler life, fought this plan.  I still had a few writing jobs that would carry us for about three months.  But that side of me didn’t fight hard.  The part of me that wanted a nice salary and a 401k and dental benefits fought harder, was kind of ruthless.

So I sent a text to the person who was hiring.

“When can you start?” they texted me back, only half joking.  We arranged for an interview on Monday morning, first thing.

Sunday night I tossed and turned.  Was this the right thing?  Did I want to jump back into the dog-eat-dog world of business so quickly, just for a sense of stability?  What if I focused on writing for the next few months – would more projects come along?  Or was the whole writing thing just a big mirage?

And the biggest question: how would we ever be able to afford our own place if I didn’t have a steady income stream?  I began to wonder if there were any basement walls we could dig out, you know, add some tunnels, turn the whole thing into Bag End.

I remember praying hard that Sunday night, and then, just before I drifted off to sleep, I told God that if there was a writing life for me out there, help me not to get this job.  Really, I mean it (as soon as I said it, I wanted to take it back).

Monday morning I got up and shaved (not something I do on a regular basis) and put on a suit (not something I do more than once a year, if I can help it).  “Good luck,” everyone said to me as I walked out the door.

But I never felt more like a fake.  Seriously, was I doing this?  It just didn’t feel right.  But the paycheck, the security, it all looked too good to pass up.

The interview went great.  We both felt confident I could do the job well.  My resume included all kinds of similar experience.

“Looks pretty good,” he said.  “I’ll call you tonight and we’ll line up a second interview.”

He called me later in the afternoon.  “Can you come back in on Wednesday?”

Sure, I said.  It was starting to sink in.  I really thought I was going to get the job.  I was starting to feel a little nervous – what would happen to my dream of writing full time?  Would I ever be in this place again, or would I start using the money I made to live a life that could only be supported by a continually increasing income?

I found myself talking to God again: “If you happened to catch the tail end of that prayer the other night, you know, where I said that if there was a writing life out there for me that I’d like you to keep me from getting the job?  I was really tired when I prayed that.  You can probably just disregard it.  I may have even been talking in my sleep.”

*****

If you’d like to read the very first post which tells the beginning of the story of my wife and I deciding to move our family of 6 into my parent’s basement because we were in debt up to our eyeballs and needed to get back to basic living, click HERE. Check in HERE for the result of this particular job hunt.

First of all, you should know: we’re making progress. The tension and conflict has finally become too great for just one blog to handle.  Check out last Friday’s post by Bruce Nuffer over at The House Studio, and see how our Top 10 Candy debate is continuing…ad infinitum…ad nauseum…ad every-latin-word-you-can-think-of-um.

But it’s time to move forward to a new topic, so today I reflect on the good old 1980s (again) and the top 10 movies from my childhood.  They are as follows (in no particular order):

Can’t Buy Me Love – since this list doubles as a virtual “Top 10: Where the Stars Got Their Start”, this is the perfect place to begin.  Do you recognize the now-famous doctor in the glasses?

Annie – one of the first movies I ever saw in a real, live theatre.  The scene at the end, with Anne climbing that train bridge thing, while being chased by Rooster, scared me for weeks.  Okay, I’ll admit it – there are ongoing bed-wetting issues.

The Goonies – quite possibly my favorite childhood movie of all time.  Remember the scene where they are shouting for help up through the well?  For a long time I believed every single well was a portal into a world of adventure, and I never saw a well I didn’t want to climb down into (until I saw The Ring, that is, and now I never see a well without running in the opposite direction as fast as possible).

The Karate Kid – was I the only kid who wanted to sand something, anything, just to practice sand-the-floor? was I the only kid injuring himself while performing crane kicks off the front porch?

Rocky IV – “if I can change, and you can change” . . . go on Stallone, give that tear-jerking “then we all can change” speech one last time.

Space Camp – this 1986 movie launched my Kelly Preston crush.  And I totally forgot the little kid was Joaquin Phoenix

Flight of the Navigator – what if you returned to your house today only to discover that 8 years had passed and you didn’t realize it?  What if I watched this movie again and realized Sarah Jessica Parker was in it?  Both concepts still totally blow my brain.

Back to the Future -Michael J, you’ve never regained your glory from this movie.  But who expected you to?

Top Gun -I definitely watched this on the down low.  There was no way that I would have been allowed to watch Top Gun when it first came out (I was 10), or at any point in the subsequent 6 – 8 years (but I know that at some point I did).

Airplane – surely you’ve seen this one? Surely?

So what did I miss?  And before you say ET…I’ve never seen it.

Last week in the comments section someone mentioned that they were following this blog from Poland.  Poland! That seems really far away.

And it also got me wondering…where are all you folks checking in from?  So if you don’t mind, go down to the comments section of the blog and answer three questions:

1) your name and where you live

2) the view out your window (pick any window in your life right now)

3) your blog and what it’s about (or what you’d write a blog about if you did such a silly thing)

I’ll get things started by answering those questions myself.  And don’t leave me hanging, or I’ll start to feel very lonely and misunderstood.  And all you Google Reader folks get off your lazy readers, come to the site, and comment for once.

When I arrived as a freshman at Messiah College and endured my first preseason for the soccer team, I couldn’t help but notice this guy Peter Greer.  First of all, he was one of the nicest people I had ever met, even to me, an underclassman. Second of all, and I know this goes against what I just said, I wanted to punch him in the face – no matter how many hills or sprints or conditioning drills our coach threw at us, Peter was one of those in the background yelling, “C’mon coach!  Is this all you’ve got for us?  You can do better than this!  We can run all day!”

While I haven’t seen Peter for many years, I just finished reading his book “The Poor Will Be Glad” , and I can tell that little has changed.  Peter is still one of the kindest people on the planet, and he is still working hard to motivate those around him to get better, stronger and more effective.  I think I must have matured at least a little since then, though, because I don’t want to hit him anymore.

The following is a guest post, written by my friend Peter Greer:

In 2002, my wife and I were sent to help Congolese refugees displaced by the eruption of Mt. Nyiragongo. There I witnessed catastrophic devastation: over 400,000 people were fleeing from homes that had collapsed.   Amid the destruction, I thought I would find camaraderie and a spirit of service among the many NGOs that had come to serve in the Democratic Republic of Congo.  Surprisingly, I was wrong.

In the refugee camp, it had been rumored that a camera crew was going to highlight a story of generosity: individuals in the U.S. had donated blankets to the refugees, and the network would feature the NGOs distributing them.  Everyone wanted the news to feature them, handing out blankets.

My wife and I had blankets to give but were not allowed to give them out.  Larger NGOs wouldn’t allow our smaller operation to hand out blankets if their shipments had not yet arrived.  There I was, among the very people and organizations supposed to help those in need, and they were more concerned about showcasing their organizations than helping the poor.  The camera crew never came, and I will never forget how disgusted I felt by the hypocrisy of the ordeal – I also will never forget how I eventually recognized the same hypocrisy in my own heart.

When we were finally allowed to hand out our blankets, a photographer did arrive. Up on a platform, I bestowed my blankets as people walked orderly through a line. The orchestration was almost perfect – we had roped off lines like at an amusement park – and I was the main attraction. We had lists of the families and a system to ensure that each family received their allotted amount. I was on the front lines of personally handing out blankets and helping families that had lost almost everything. Noble cause. Noble mission. Noble actions of a 25-year-old relief worker. A friend was snapping pictures, and I smiled wide for the camera as I did God’s work.

A few weeks later I saw the pictures.  I trashed them.  I wanted to vomit.  It was apparent from that smile that I cared more about my smile for the camera—than serving the poor.   I was no better than the NGOs I despised.

All my life I had thought I had been on the “right road”; I had maintained a clean record, a sparkling image – but it wasn’t enough.  Even if I was a relief worker in Africa, it meant nothing.  If my willingness to serve did not come from the love of God, than it really was empty:

“If I give all I possess to the poor and surrender my body to the flames, but have not love, I gain nothing” (1 Corinthians 13:3)

As I saw those pictures, I began to grasp the truth of the scripture, without the love of God motivating me, my work was in vain, and it became another means to glorify myself.

I have recently been encouraged by the evangelical Christian community’s new focus on justice, poverty alleviation and the growing awareness of the needs around the world, but I do worry that if we make our primary focus service instead of Christ, we will find our service is empty.  I know I found it true in my own life.  It is only out of a deep-rooted understanding of our Father’s love, realizing that “we love because he first loved us,” that we can truly roll up our sleeves and serve (1 John 4:19).

Have a look at Peter’s book, “The Poor Will Be Glad,” HERE and check out his organization, Hope International.

If you have any interest whatsoever in serving the poor of the world, you need to read The Poor Will Be Glad: Joining the Revolution to Lift the World Out of Poverty, by Peter Greer and Phil Smith.

If you are like me, you’ve often thought that if we could just pool enough resources, enough cash, enough food, and ship it to developing nations, the problem of poverty would be solved (actually, when I write that it sounds pretty naive so maybe you’ve never thought that).  Peter Greer addresses this mindset with a story about a Rwandan named Jean.

Jean seized  an opportunity to begin a small poultry business to provide his neighborhood with eggs.  He managed to scrape together funds to purchase several fowl, and his business grew.  Later, a church in America “adopted” the village where Jean lived and worked.  The church decided to donate clothes and supplies.  They also imported eggs from a neighboring community and gave them away.  Suddenly, this one village was flooded with surplus eggs.  It is not difficult to imagine what happened to Jean’s business: people went first to collect the free eggs and bought Jean’s eggs only when the supply of free eggs was depleted.  The market price for eggs plummeted in Jean’s village and, as a result, Jean was forced to sell his productive assets, his chickens.

The next year, after Jean had left the poultry business, the church that had supplied the free eggs turned its attention to another disaster in another part of the world.  Jean’s community had no capacity to produce eggs locally and was forced to import eggs from a  neighboring town.  The cost of these eggs was higher than the eggs Jean had sold, so both Jean and his village were hurt economically by the good intentions of one American church.

You know those container loads of t-shirts that we give to thrift stores, the ones that eventually get shipped to Africa? These “gifts” almost single-handedly decimated the textile trades in some African nations.  We as the church MUST remember that there are larger implications to our giving than we may understand at first glance.  While natural disasters and other crisis may require emergency aid and huge amounts of charitable giving, these strategies are not adequate long-term solutions for helping the poor.

Microfinance, Peter and Phil insist, is the answer to lifting the world out of poverty.

They’ve created a beautiful book, both in content and in appearance. The book is full of stories about how microfinance is changing the landscape of developing nations, and the photographs of these entrepreneurs whose lives have been changed by $40 micro-loans are stunning.

Skeptical?  So was Rob Bell, but he addresses his own skepticism in the foreward of this book:

Because if it is true and legit and if microfinance really does have that kind of effect on the lives of those in poverty, well, that would change everything.

Which is what it’s doing.  It’s changing things on a massive scale.  And every one of us can be a part of it.  For a small amount of money, entire families can be empowered to create entirely new tomorrows.

I hope this raises all sorts of questions for you, beginning with: How?

And to answer that question, you’ll have to turn the page and start reading this inspiring, informative, moving, world changing, extraordinary book.

So once again I say: if you have any interest in serving the poor in this world, you must read this book.  You can take a look at the book HERE

Peter Greer holds a Master of Public Policy from Harvard’s Kennedy School and a BS from Messiah College.  He is the president of Hope International, a global faith-based microfinance organization serving hundreds of thousands of entrepreneurs in 14 countries.  You can follow Peter on Twitter: @peterkgreer , and you can follow Hope International on Twitter: @HOPEtweets

Phil Smith is a philanthropist and private investor who sits on the boards of several companies.  He is the coauthor of A Billion Bootstraps and holds an MBA from the University of Tulsa and a BS in mechanical engineering from Oklahoma State University.