I Do Declare: *Right Now* it’s hard to tell what day it is

This I Do Declare post should have gone up Monday. Fact. I missed it because I was neck-deep in a project that took a lot of energy. Also fact.

And not only that: This is the first Right Now post I’ve done in a while, and that’s because I’ve been in high-productivity mode for a few weeks, which meant the mid-week post had to go on hiatus.

A touch of irony there. See, the Right Now posts are all about productivity, following through, keeping momentum, and making tough choices to stay focused and not get sidetracked. Things like: Do I keep going and meet the deadline on the paying gig, or do I set it aside and write a blog post? Do I push through to do everything until I’m completely exhausted, or do I get some sleep? Some choices make themselves.

So essentially, for the past few weeks, I was following my own advice.

Now, that doesn’t mean this blog is expendable or that my readers are less important than paying clients. Please hear me: I am dedicated to this blog and to all of you who take the time to visit, read, and respond. Fact.

I’ve simply come to grips with the reality that if my days are getting busier – and they are, which is a good thing (actually a fabulous thing, given the past year) – then my organizational methods need to scale with my increased activities.

When I started this blog almost a year ago, it was right after I’d been through a Covid-related RIF at my job. It was at the start of the pandemic, and lots of people were getting laid off, which meant finding another job was going to be difficult. I needed a reason to get out of bed, a task to focus on, a diversion from the scary headlines.

Hence these scribblings and screeds – not to mention the outlets for my sense of humor. Seriously, isn’t your life a little better now that you’ve met Belle, Vim & Verve, Writer Girl, Reggaetor, and Grammarcat?

I used to joke that I started a blog so I would know what day it was. It was funny because it was true. And it was true because I needed order and organization and I needed to keep track of time.

I still do.

Today is Wednesday, April 21, 2021. I have many writing projects on my plate, and I am determined to find a streamlined, effective way to be productive.

And there we have it. This blog is still a great time-telling device. I think I’ll keep it.

I Do Declare: I think about that sprinkling of water on my head all the time

Last Friday (April 9) was my baptism birthday. That day would end up affecting every other day of my life, though I didn’t know it at the time because I was 3½. Being baptized into the Christian Faith and in the Lutheran Church has done more to shape my world view — how I relate to others, how I understand myself, how deeply instilled in me is the need we all have for mercy and forgiveness — than any other event.

Here’s a photo of me that day at the church — along with my older sister and younger brother who were baptized at the same time.

I’m the one in front, holding my Bible. With us are my grandfather (standing behind me), my grandmother (holding my brother), and my mother (on the far right, with a fabulous hat). My dad was overseas at the time.

The image is blurry, but I’m glad it was taken.

The set of circumstances that led to my baptism (full insights on that will be a post for another day) are interesting, one of those things where you can see God’s thumbprint all over it. I don’t think I’m unusual in this respect — God is interested in all of our journeys — but the fact is that my coming to be baptized represents one huge cosmic connect-the-dots of God’s design. And I mull over this quite often. More so the older I get.

Last Friday is also the commemoration date for Dietrich Bonhoeffer, one of my heroes. For many years, I wasn’t aware that I was baptized on the date of his death, and I’m positive that it wasn’t planned that way. But I like that this is my baptism date. It adds a layer to my reflections.

Here’s an image of him, along with one of his quotes, which I like to meditate on.

I Do Declare: People will make a meme out of anything, and I think that’s a good thing

I was going to make a meme out of the ship that’s stuck in the Suez Canal, but I came across a news story that shows lots of people beat me to it.

And I think that’s fine. With all the bitterness and anger out there, I like that people reach for humor, even in the case of a maritime “oopsy” that’s costing tons of money in trade.

Click here to see the memes.

And lighten up.

I Do Declare: Mother Nature has no clue what season it is

You’ve probably seen those memes floating around that talk about the 12 (or 15 or some crazy number) of seasons we have in the South. And it comes with a “you are here” arrow — because most of the time it’s hard to tell.

Very funny.

Except not really, because it’s true.

I think Mother Nature has no idea what season we’re in for the most part, so she just randomly picks one and drops it on us. At least that’s the best idea I’ve come up with so far. If I ever hear a better one, I’ll adopt that as gospel.

Inspired by all those other memes, I’ve come up with my own, specifically for Charleston. I don’t dare put an arrow in, because that could change by noon.

I Do Declare: Lent is kinder than it used to be

I was going to start this post by saying, “We’re XX days into Lent, and I …” – but the fact that I didn’t have that number at the forefront of my brain meant I wasn’t counting the days until Easter.

And that, my friends, is what we call progress – in a spiritual-albeit-askew kind of way. By which, of course, I mean my relationship with Lent.

I often say, right around Shrove Tuesday, that Lent is hard on me, and then I explain it’s because I take it so seriously.

Which we’re supposed to do. Lent isn’t a fun exercise, like contemplating the start of the next season a la Groundhog Day or wearing spirituality colors like it’s St. Patrick’s Day.

I know all that. I know it’s serious, thoughtful, introspective. And yet, I used to do my “giving-up-for-Lent” exercise like I was in an endurance race. Some of the things I gave up over the years – chocolate, TV, eating out – were means of taking away things I enjoyed, but without any purpose or spiritual benefit.

Two years in a row I gave up chocolate, and you’d have thought I lost an eye or a leg. Both times the incessant whining almost did me in (not to mention everyone around me). The first year I made it all the way to Easter morning, at which point I gobbled down all the chocolate bunnies and eggs I could get my hands on. Despite that, I felt empty.

The next year, when I – at a Shrove Tuesday pancake dinner, of course – related the story from the previous year, someone told me that Sundays aren’t included in the Lenten fast. Whoa … fabulous news! Chocolate reprieve on Sundays – I’m in! Yet when I reached that Easter morning, I had the same empty feeling.

I realized I had been trying to ace an endurance test with God – one that I initiated – and the empty feeling was due to the futility of the exercise. God really isn’t interested in how well I can stay away from chocolate. Lesson learned.

After that, I began doing two-part Lenten disciplines: give up something physical and add something spiritual. So I talked the family into giving up our Friday night pizza take-out and instead make our own pizzas at home while watching a wholesome movie. Plus, whatever we would have spent on the pizza we donated to a food kitchen on Easter morning.

Those were nice things – family time, clean entertainment, giving to the food kitchen – but something still felt a bit off for me. I continued to approach Lent with a vague dread and had to muscle my way through it, determined to grin and bear until the bitter end.

I went on this way for years: Deep breath on Ash Wednesday, hold until I could exhale on Easter morning.

And then, a few years ago, I was inspired to write a guided journal for Lent. Initially I wrote it for myself, but after mentioning it to a few friends, I decided to put it up on Kindle and share it (I give it away free for the five days leading up to Ash Wednesday, and then it stays at .99). This year for the first time I offered it in paperback form (which unfortunately I cannot give away because there’s a cost with print production, and Amazon will not let me go in the hole even for a good cause).

The prompts deal with a variety of issues – physical, financial, vocational, social, spiritual – and the ways in which we can get lost in the distractions. The way I did for years when I got distracted by what I thought were the “must-do” disciplines during Lent. (I talked about the structure of it in more detail here.)

What this did for me – and I hope for the readers who use it – was to refocus what Lent means. Instead of running an endurance test, I no longer give anything up for Lent. I just write my way through the season using the writing prompts I created. This is the third year of this guided journal, and even though the prompts are the same, the journaling is different every year.

In this way, Lent has become more of a spiritual retreat where I spend time with God every day instead of staying rigid until the end. It’s the difference between pushing your way through a thick forest and walking a path that was already cut and paved for you. Same destination, a much easier journey.

The title of the journal – “Where is God in all this?” – is a kickstart to each day’s writing. Sometimes I even say it out loud. And God answers: “Here I am. Let’s talk.”

I Do Declare: Most days I aim for humble and modest, but today is not one of those days

There are moments in one’s life when it is entirely acceptable to set aside efforts toward humility and restraint and to take up ownership of bragging rights with a flourish. Placing high in a prestigious screenwriting competition is one of those moments.

As I mentioned in my breaking news on Friday, I am 2nd runner up in the Kairos competition for my screenplay, The Bridge.

The logline (as I entered it in the competition) is:

A church shooting reopens old wounds for a family – and it takes the community coming together to heal them.

It takes place in the days after the Charleston Nine shooting. The main characters are fictional, though the setting and backdrop are real.

The Bridge is a faith-based story, which is not an easy thing to market in today’s entertainment landscape. I’m not whining; I’m highlighting a fact of life. And I said: “not easy,” not “impossible.” It takes a little more work to find the right avenue to get my screenplay noticed and hopefully made into a movie. Because there are film and production companies looking for such material, and there are audiences (more and more every day) that want to watch it.

The Kairos competition is one of those avenues for faith-based works. In fact, the full name of the competition is: The Kairos Prize for Spiritually Uplifting Screenplays. And if that doesn’t clearly outline their mission, the description (from the website) reads: “Established by Movieguide in 2005, the primary purpose of the Kairos Prize is to further the influence of moral and spiritual values within the film and television industries. Seeking to promote a spiritually uplifting, redemptive worldview, the prize was founded to inspire first-time and beginning screenwriters to produce compelling, entertaining, spiritually uplifting scripts that result in a greater increase in either man’s love or understanding of God.”

I am grateful that Movieguide had the vision to create this competition, and I am grateful that my script was judged in the top three. And while a high placement in a prestigious competition like Kairos doesn’t guarantee a contract, a bit of recognition certainly doesn’t hurt.

At very least, it’s a huge boost to my creativity.

A comment from one of the contest organizers was most kind and quite flattering: “I want to congratulate you on an exceptional script. … This year’s contest was exceptionally tight, and your submission was highly rated. … It is an incredibly moving story, and the judges agree that is has great potential.”

I can go a whole year on a compliment like that. It certainly propels me back into my seat and gets my fingers on the keyboard, ready to generate more “compelling, entertaining, spiritually uplifting” works.

And as I do, I return to my “natural” state – humble, modest, and fully aware that I am on a mission and that only through God am I able to accomplish anything of worth.

I Do Declare: Rabbit holes are cozy little places and I want to live there

Back in November, I got a book contract – Yes, you may applaud! I’m excited about it too! – and ever since I signed, I’ve been digging deeper and deeper into the subject matter.

Without going into too much detail (not yet … not while I’m in the research/writing phase), it has to do with historical events, and I am not exaggerating when I say this is the happiest place on Earth for me.

Some of the digging is online, at least for initial information, and everyone knows what a rabbit hole the online search can be. You start in one place and before you know it you’ve hyperlinked over to the other side of the world and a century or two back in time. I love every minute of it.

But an even better rabbit hole to fall down is digging into original sources at places like the historical society and the special sections in the libraries. It’s such a thrill to discover tidbits about a person or a place. Like a sentence in someone’s diary that sheds new light on a famous incident. Or finding a guest list that uncovers connections that weren’t known before.

They’re cozy places, these historical research rabbit holes. And they’re magical. I snuggle down into them, transported to another time, where I can, for a moment, bring people to life again and relive it with them.

Though that’s only half the magic. The other half is coming up out of the hole and seeing present-day with new eyes.

Spend enough time in yesterday, and today will have a sense of timelessness about it. Tomorrow too. As if everything has already happened before, and the contemporary is just a repeat, as the future will be.

Percy Bysshe Shelley, one of the major English Romantic poets, said it far better than I: “History is a cyclic poem written by time upon the memories of man.”

It may sound strange, but that’s actually an encouraging thought. No need to worry about the current state of affairs in the world. Similar – and worse – things happened years ago, and we lived through them. Well, maybe not “we,” but someone did. (Unless you’re doing the research, and then you get to live through it too.)

When I started this project, I thought it was a fabulous writing opportunity. I had no idea the research phase would bring with it such a sense of peace and comfort. What a fabulous discovery. Something I can use to decorate my rabbit hole. I might stay a while.