The funny thing about summer is that I feel like it's the only season that really has finality to it. The others seem to transition so well into each other (except for spring, which kind of takes it's sweet time around here). But summer has a definite ending. I assume that everyone who has ever gone to school feels the same way. It's our pseudo New Year. More people will ask you what you are "doing" in the fall than in the new year. You'll be approached in grocery store aisles, at the clinic, in line at the bank, wherever, about what your "plans for the fall" are. Listen, I'll tell you right now I have no idea. I have whimsical dreams and hair brained notions about what I might like to do, but honestly I don't know what will come of it all.
Basically I want to talk about the book I wrote. I want to speak to girls in churches and public schools and small groups and ask them what they think they're worth and who they think determines that.
My latest idea was (as of yesterday) to create cookie recipes that corelate with some themes in my book and package them in little brown paper... cookie bags? and have an excerpt from the book on the bag. It combines some crafting with baking with marketing witiness with the actual book which is-zing!-kind of amazing. I want to feed bellies and I want to feed souls.
So I'm going to have to run this idea by my father. And he might scoff at the idea, but I mean.. you've gotta start somewhere right? I don't want to sell my book at local book stores, I mean, maybe I would, but that's not the core focus. I want it to be personal. I don't just want people to order the book online without knowing my story first. I want to talk with people, share stories, and encourage each other. That's the dream.
And I've been meaning to ask my brother to help me organize some kind of I-hate-to-use-the-word-'tour'-but-oops-there-it-is, however my pride is getting in the way a little bit. I don't like to ask for help, even though surely he could do the job better than I. But he could also decline, which would put me in an awkward spot.
And what does all of this mean for my "plans for the fall"?!? That's a good question.
Thursday, 28 July 2011
Monday, 18 July 2011
Pretty optimistic for a Monday.
Happy moon dances, the birthday was a success.
I hope you weren't worried.
And now that it's over, it kind of feels like summer is drawing to a close. I realize that it's still July but I feel as though the climactic action of this summer story has already transpired. Now we're just dealing with the aftermath. And what does a 21 year old do?
I've really felt lately (the last four days) that I should sell my stuff, fill my car with my books, and drive around North America and talk to anyone who will listen to me. Fingers crossed for that deli guy on the East coast. That's the dream. Just boppin' around like a chick-a-dee-dee-dee. I just read yesterday about Jesus telling the people around him that if they wanted to be his disciples they should sell everything they have and follow him. And in that moment he meant it literally. And maybe still does.
I'm just so young, plenty of time to collect for my nest. And ripe enough that I could navigate through an adventure, I think. But I can't even keep my room clean. And I'm not sure what I'll actually end up doing but it probably won't involve getting a post-secondary education. It might even involve staying at home, paying rent, and working at Boston Pizza. These things I don't know. But exploring the options is almost half the fun I would say. Just me and my journal. And my camera. And uhh, gas money. That sounds about as delightful as homemade strawberry rhubarb pie (which I already made a dough for and will bake the rest today!).
And I hope that you, whoever you might be, are getting to that place of discipleship, whatever that looks like in your life. That might be on the 17th storey downtown. That might be on the carpet with your newborn. It could be anywhere. But I hope that everywhere you go, your mission is the same. And that we might be so fortunate to have our msision and our passion fuse together to create our unique and individual purpose.
I hope you weren't worried.
And now that it's over, it kind of feels like summer is drawing to a close. I realize that it's still July but I feel as though the climactic action of this summer story has already transpired. Now we're just dealing with the aftermath. And what does a 21 year old do?
I've really felt lately (the last four days) that I should sell my stuff, fill my car with my books, and drive around North America and talk to anyone who will listen to me. Fingers crossed for that deli guy on the East coast. That's the dream. Just boppin' around like a chick-a-dee-dee-dee. I just read yesterday about Jesus telling the people around him that if they wanted to be his disciples they should sell everything they have and follow him. And in that moment he meant it literally. And maybe still does.
I'm just so young, plenty of time to collect for my nest. And ripe enough that I could navigate through an adventure, I think. But I can't even keep my room clean. And I'm not sure what I'll actually end up doing but it probably won't involve getting a post-secondary education. It might even involve staying at home, paying rent, and working at Boston Pizza. These things I don't know. But exploring the options is almost half the fun I would say. Just me and my journal. And my camera. And uhh, gas money. That sounds about as delightful as homemade strawberry rhubarb pie (which I already made a dough for and will bake the rest today!).
And I hope that you, whoever you might be, are getting to that place of discipleship, whatever that looks like in your life. That might be on the 17th storey downtown. That might be on the carpet with your newborn. It could be anywhere. But I hope that everywhere you go, your mission is the same. And that we might be so fortunate to have our msision and our passion fuse together to create our unique and individual purpose.
Thursday, 14 July 2011
Birthday wishes.
Today is my birthday and instead of being far too busy celebrating to even think about writing on this thing, I'm sitting here and there are tears running down my face and I can't imagine talking to anyone except whoever you are.
And if you ask me why I'm crying I'll give you a dumb reason like:
When I returned from work last night after midnight and was locked out of the house, my dad didn't even wish me a happy birthday but managed to explain to me that if I left the key in the ignition of the car which was sitting in the garage all evening, the battery would die by morning.
When I walked up the stairs this morning I was greeted with a candle on top of a pile of icing covering the crumbs of a piece of cake that someone (probably me) didn't finish.
We had leftovers for lunch.
We bowed our heads to pray and no one piped up so finally my mom lead us in "Come Lord Jesus be our guest, May this food to us be blessed. Amen." I felt like no one wanted to pray for me.
The lunch conversation consisted of farm talk and rental properties. I sat in silence.
My dad directed his attention to me to tell me that he asked my cousin to do a fish fry for dinner. And that would be great except for the fact that I hate fish. I mean, I don't hate it but I certainly never ask for it and rarely eat it when it happens to be around. My mom loves it. And the worst part is that it seemed like he thought he was doing something really thoughtful for me. And my mom kept asking in front of everyone, "Isn't that nice of your dad?" And what was I supposed to say.
And so aftter excusing myself from the lunch table I came down to my room and started bawling my face off because there is no one on the planet that I feel like I can call to say "I'm having a fishfry for my birthday" and have them know exactly what I mean.
I can't help but realize how ungrateful I sound. But these emotions have a lot to do with the fact that I just released my book into the world wide web early this morning. And that's unbelievably scary.
And if you ask me why I'm crying I'll give you a dumb reason like:
When I returned from work last night after midnight and was locked out of the house, my dad didn't even wish me a happy birthday but managed to explain to me that if I left the key in the ignition of the car which was sitting in the garage all evening, the battery would die by morning.
When I walked up the stairs this morning I was greeted with a candle on top of a pile of icing covering the crumbs of a piece of cake that someone (probably me) didn't finish.
We had leftovers for lunch.
We bowed our heads to pray and no one piped up so finally my mom lead us in "Come Lord Jesus be our guest, May this food to us be blessed. Amen." I felt like no one wanted to pray for me.
The lunch conversation consisted of farm talk and rental properties. I sat in silence.
My dad directed his attention to me to tell me that he asked my cousin to do a fish fry for dinner. And that would be great except for the fact that I hate fish. I mean, I don't hate it but I certainly never ask for it and rarely eat it when it happens to be around. My mom loves it. And the worst part is that it seemed like he thought he was doing something really thoughtful for me. And my mom kept asking in front of everyone, "Isn't that nice of your dad?" And what was I supposed to say.
And so aftter excusing myself from the lunch table I came down to my room and started bawling my face off because there is no one on the planet that I feel like I can call to say "I'm having a fishfry for my birthday" and have them know exactly what I mean.
I can't help but realize how ungrateful I sound. But these emotions have a lot to do with the fact that I just released my book into the world wide web early this morning. And that's unbelievably scary.
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