tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-87137608871824670342024-03-13T07:18:58.154-05:00Rachel HigginsonThe official blog and website for author Rachel HigginsonRachelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17973308145047978707noreply@blogger.comBlogger719125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8713760887182467034.post-29383866011026750712018-07-26T09:00:00.000-05:002018-07-26T09:00:03.470-05:00How to Become an Author<div>
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Last weekend, at the close of Book Bonanza, as I sat at a table full of some of my favorite humans on the planet, one of my friends mentioned how she'd had to stand in line to see me behind one of those readers that basically asked, "How do I become an author?" </div>
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My friend groaned and laughed at the same time. "I bet you get that all the time." </div>
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I laughed too. Because I do. The real challenge for me though, isn't hearing the question on a daily basis, it's in how to answer it in less than five minutes. I want to write a book about writing a book, but all they really want is an inspirational soundbite.</div>
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And let's get real guys, I'm still trying to figure it out and I've been writing books for eleven years. </div>
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Also, I think the answer varies from one person to another. What made me an author, will not make you one. What motivates me to succeed and to keep publishing and to push harder, will not, even a little bit, motivate you. </div>
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It's one of those answers that is person/circumstance/situation specific. But it also has an overarching tone that I think every person can relate to. </div>
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The big answer is this: HARD WORK. </div>
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Ugh, which is the worst, right? Not only is it ambiguous and obnoxiously vague, it's the opposite of what we want it to be. </div>
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We want secret sauces and magic formulas. We want "X algorithm + X number of IG posts + this name-brand protein shake = $1,000.000.00"</div>
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Or is that just a snapshot of my personal Google search history? </div>
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No, for real! I don't know how many articles and posts and books I read at the beginning of my career that stemmed from something like, "How to Publish a Book." or "How to Sell Your Book on Amazon." </div>
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Or at the very beginning, "How to Write a Book." </div>
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And after all of these years, I can honestly say the only thing that has ever worked for me, I mean, really, really worked for me, is WORK. Hard work. Endless hard work. So much hard work there have been legit times I thought it would kill me. </div>
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Once upon a time, I was convinced I'd given myself A-Fib. No joke. </div>
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It turned out to be just constant panic attacks. So... is that better? </div>
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Sure. We'll go with a solid <i>sure</i>. </div>
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My point is, unless you're willing to pour all of your blood, sweat and tears into this thing, and I do mean all of them, rethink your life plans. Because nobody accidentally sells a bestselling book. Usually there is a whole lot of sleepless nights involved and an infinite amount of panic and probably a sketchy deal with someone who occasionally goes by The Devil. </div>
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Jk. Don't sell your soul for a book deal. </div>
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Mainly because it doesn't even last. </div>
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You have to start all over again with book #2 and then all over again for book #3. And then yep, you guessed it, straight back to the beginning for every single book after that. </div>
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Just ask JK Rowling who wrote, unarguably, one of the most successful series of all time. And yet how many movie deals has she been offered for Cuckoo's Calling? </div>
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Have you even heard of Cuckoo's Calling? </div>
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I'm not even going to ask if you've read it. </div>
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I already know the answer. </div>
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(It's a great book, I'm sure! She's a phenomenal writer!! Just trying to make a point here... ahem.)</div>
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Writing a book takes an immense amount of effort. And then, after that, after you've finally typed the glorious words THE END, you realize the real work is only just beginning. </div>
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Imagine that. Imagine finishing the hardest thing you've ever done and feeling so great about yourself. And then lifting your head to stare out at the rest of the world, your neck is stiff, your fingers are bloody and your entire body aches with the last six months of your life that you will never be able to reclaim, and then realizing that you now have to sell the damn thing. You have to actually convince rational, opinionated people that it's worth reading.</div>
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Ha!</div>
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Good luck to you. </div>
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But in all reality, it's tough. Like really, really hard. </div>
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Although so is everything worth pursuing. </div>
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I told my friends that Saturday night at Book Bonanza, I answer that question a lot. I'm not exaggerating when I say it happens almost daily. I got a DM tonight from someone I admire greatly. She just finished a book she's been working on for years. She needs to know the next step. Over the Fourth of July, I chatted with an old family friend about the book he had written. He doesn't think he wants to publish it. It's just for family and friends. But then again, maybe he could...? The last weekend was filled with readers thinking about becoming authors. My panel specifically dealt with how to put a book together. Plus all the other messages and emails and friendly cornerings from people in my real life. </div>
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After years of this, I've come to believe that it's not a coincidence I get asked this question so often. It's not that I'm surrounded by excessively creative people or even that I'm just one of those open, approachable kinds of people. It's this- everyone has a story to tell. Every single person on this planet has something inside them that they want to share with the world.</div>
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Being human means being born with the innate desire to share your story.</div>
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I mean that.</div>
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I believe it. </div>
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And maybe "writing a story" isn't writing a story at all. Maybe it's designing clothes. Or balancing someone's finances. Or playing guitar. But it's something that is bubbling up inside you, begging to be given to the world. </div>
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This world we live in can be so sickeningly entitled. We're used to being given things. Or at least we'd like to be given things. All the things.</div>
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But have you stopped recently and asked yourself what you have to give? What you have to give away? </div>
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I'm not talking about tangible things like money or possessions-- although those are nice if you do donate. </div>
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I mean, the thing inside of you that is so big and so blindingly beautiful and so beneficial that you can't help but share it? </div>
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There is something. I know there is. And I know you know there is too. </div>
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Mine is words. Not just in my stories and books that I publish, but in the words I share with others. Encouragement, poetry, affirmation and inspiration. I have been given words to give away, to throw up in the air like confetti and make it rain. </div>
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What is your gift? How are you going to use it to make your mark on this world? </div>
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Figure it out.</div>
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And do it soon.</div>
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Let it become the thing you do for a living. Get paid for it even! But stop hoarding it for yourself. Stop hiding it. Share it with the world. Give it to strangers and loved ones and anyone and everyone you can. </div>
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It's going to take a hell-of-a-lot-of effort to reach people. You're going to be tired. And exhausted. And probably wonder at least once or twice if that same gift is going to kill you. </div>
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But it's a worthy, valiant effort that I would love to see you chase. </div>
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Run hard after that thing you want most. That thing that is nagging your spirit and invading all of your thoughts and causing your heart to trip over all the clamoring "what ifs" and 'if onlys."</div>
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And don't stop. No matter how many obstacles are in your way or road blocks or wrong turns. Don't stop pursuing that thing inside of you begging to be unleashed on the world. For your sake. And for ours. </div>
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It can be your dream. And it can also be your gift to give away. They're one and the same. </div>
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You have a story to tell. And it's going to be epic. And the journey to share it is going to be incredible and awful and awe-inspiring. </div>
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In all of my life experience I know this, failure and victory walk hand in hand. The one thing that tips the scales in either direction is hard work. Don't stop, you guys. Don't give up. Keep asking questions and making baby steps and pushing your body and your gift and your spirit beyond anything you thought or dreamed was possible. </div>
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How do you become an author? (Or anything for that matter?) You decided to work harder than you ever have before. You decide you're never, ever, ever going to give up. You decide your gift is worth sharing.</div>
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Rachelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17973308145047978707noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8713760887182467034.post-85418015352254399012018-01-05T15:07:00.000-06:002018-01-05T15:10:46.913-06:00Consequence! It's been an entire year since I wrote a blog... I've been chalking 2017 up to the Year of Survival for a while and I guess this is just one more thing that got thrown under the bus as I tried to survive life and little ones and chaos. But I MISS it. I miss blogging my non-fiction thoughts and the freedom of this outlet. So one of my biggest 2018 resolutions is to blog more! Starting today. Albeit this is kind of a cheater, since it's cover reveal day and the majority of this blog is going to consist of Consequence, Chapter One...<br />
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Baby steps, right??? Sure. Let's go with that.<br />
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Anyway, today is the big cover reveal for Consequence, the sequel and finale to the Confidence Game series. If I could make you read just one of my series, it would seriously be THIS ONE. I lovvvvedddd writing Constant. Sure, it nearly killed me. And sure, nothing went as I planned it to go... But it's just one of those stories that got way under my skin and made me fall in love with writing and publishing and all of life all over again. Yes, it's different than anything I've written before. But I literally say that about every new book I write. And yes, it ends on a MAJOR cliffhanger. BUT, the follow-up book is coming soon!!!! February, 27th to be exact!! So basically you have nothing to lose! ;)<br />
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And just in case you're not quite convinced, here is the first chapter of Consequence to whet your appetite. Let me know what you think!!!!<br />
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Yay for blogging again!<3 nbsp="" p=""><br />
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Grab Constant, the first book in the series here --->>> <a href="http://amzn.to/2CLVqBL">Constant</a><br />
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Pre-order Consequence, the second and final installment here --->>> <a href="http://amzn.to/2F28UXv">Consequence</a><br />
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Chapter One <o:p></o:p></div>
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Sayer<o:p></o:p></div>
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Fifteen Years Ago<o:p></o:p></div>
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Doubt niggled in my gut, forcing me to question my
choices. I hated it. I hated the greasy feeling sloshing around in the pit of
my stomach. Halting hesitation stilted my limbs and slowed my footsteps.<o:p></o:p></div>
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The door in front of me seemed to stretch to the dark
sky overhead. The damp, ivy covered walls seemed to close in on me, trapping me
in a prison I wasn’t ready to face yet. <o:p></o:p></div>
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Letting out a slow, measured breath I balled my hands
into fists and reminded myself that this was my only option for survival. I’d
made my bed and now I had to live in it.<o:p></o:p></div>
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For however long my life lasted. <o:p></o:p></div>
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Wrapping my knuckles against the back entrance to a
Russian-run bar in the middle of downtown DC, I swallowed the lump of fear and my
uncertainty. The gritty taste in my mouth remained. <o:p></o:p></div>
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“What?” a gigantic tank of a man asked when the metal
door creaked open. <o:p></o:p></div>
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The opened door let out a gust of warm air that smelled
like booze and sweat. It reminded me of my old man and I had to plant my feet
to restrain myself from involuntarily bolting. <o:p></o:p></div>
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“I want to see the bosses,” I declared boldly.<o:p></o:p></div>
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The ogre’s mouth split into a scary smile, revealing
rows of gold teeth and a fat, gray tongue. My request was amusing enough that
he didn’t bother playing games with me. I obviously wasn’t an FBI informant or
slimy CI. I wasn’t wearing a wire. He knew exactly where I came from—the
gutter. <o:p></o:p></div>
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He clicked his tongue between his teeth and lips. “And
what does a street rat like you want with the <i>pakhan</i>?”<o:p></o:p></div>
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His thick accent made it hard for me to understand
him, but I got the gist of what he asked. “I have information,” I told him and
then quickly added. “Important information.” <o:p></o:p></div>
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His smile disappeared. “Yeah? How about you tell it to
me and I’ll relay the message.” <o:p></o:p></div>
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I shook my head. No fucking way. I give this guy the
goods, I’ll never get another chance to get inside. This had to come from me.
And it had to go straight to the top. “I tell the bosses. Nobody else.” <o:p></o:p></div>
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He spat a string of curses in a foreign language I
assumed was Russian. “I’m not playing games, shithead. And you’re not getting
inside. Give me the fucking information or get lost.” When I hesitated, he
added, “You have three seconds.” <o:p></o:p></div>
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“It’s about the Irish,” I blurted, desperate to have
him hear me out. “And a huge fucking shipment of guns.” I rubbed my tongue on
the roof of the mouth. The curse word felt funny on my tongue. Up until six
months ago, I wouldn’t have used it out of respect for my mom. But since I’d
been living on the streets, I’d learned there were certain kinds of people in
the world who only responded to a specific way of talking. If I wanted to be
taken seriously I needed to get comfortable with their language. <o:p></o:p></div>
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Besides it wasn’t like I was sheltered or some shit.
Thirteen years of living with my dad had taught me how to survive on the
streets—I could survive the Russian mob or the fucking epicenter of hell.<o:p></o:p></div>
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The meathead’s curiosity had been piqued. “And what
does a piece of scum like you know about the fucking Irish?” <o:p></o:p></div>
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I craned my neck to rub my cheek against my bony
shoulder. “I know that I’ve been working with them for two months. I know that
they’re expecting a container next month. I know that the guns that were
supposed to be on it were delayed because their customs officer was arrested
and so they were put on a separate, smaller ship, making them arrive two weeks
ahead of time. I know that if you know the right place they’re coming in at you
could beat the Irish and grab them for yourselves.” <o:p></o:p></div>
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His jaw ticked, revealing confusion and anger. “And
how the fuck do you know that?” <o:p></o:p></div>
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“Because I know it. Now are you going to let me in to
talk to the bosses? Or am I going to have to take this information to the
Italians?” <o:p></o:p></div>
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“Fucking Italians.” He pursed his lips and spit. I
flexed my entire body and held perfectly still. I couldn’t let this guy see me
flinch. He was just the gatekeeper, but if I cringed in front of him he
wouldn’t take me seriously and I’d lose my one shot at getting inside. <o:p></o:p></div>
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I was tough and I’d prove it here and now. <o:p></o:p></div>
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Caroline’s voice drifted through my head, bolstering
my courage, boosting my adrenaline. <i>“Make
them realize you’re valuable.”</i> She’d
offered the advice like a last-minute question. She’d wanted to save me from
the streets. She’d wanted to rescue me from the assholes that had hired me. But
she’d done something better instead. <o:p></o:p></div>
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She’d given me something to live for—seeing her again.<o:p></o:p></div>
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“How do you know any of that?” the bouncer demanded.
“How do I know you’re not a little spy sent by someone else? The Irish could
have sent you. The Italians could have sent you. The goddamn cops could be
messing with us.” <o:p></o:p></div>
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“How about you let the bosses decide that? Pretty sure
those questions are above your pay grade.” <o:p></o:p></div>
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I expected him to punch me in the face, but he threw
his head back and laughed instead. “How old are you, kid?” <o:p></o:p></div>
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I had no reason to lie. Although I probably should
have anyway. “Thirteen.”<o:p></o:p></div>
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“Fucking balls for a kid of thirteen.” <o:p></o:p></div>
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I shrugged. “Are you going to let me in or what?” <o:p></o:p></div>
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“Fuck it,” he grumbled, but pushed the door open so I
could walk inside. <o:p></o:p></div>
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Repressing the relieved smile playing at the corners
of my mouth, I inhaled the sticky sweet stench of the bar and tried not to gag.
God, I had hated places like this. I hated the loud mouth men yelling at each
other from across the room. I hated the pounding music that never ended. I
hated the women that worked here, that dressed in as little as possible and let
the drunk ass men put their hands all over them. <o:p></o:p></div>
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This bar was too close to home. And it took everything
in me not to bolt. I wanted to run away from this place like I wanted to run
from my past. I wanted to head back to the mission house that had given me a
hot chocolate and offered a warm bed to sleep in. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .2in;">
Bile rose up in my throat and I banished the manipulative
thoughts before they could take root. That idyllic dream would lead one place—to
child services. And they would just send me back to foster care. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .2in;">
There was only one thing on this godforsaken planet
worse than my old man and that was foster care. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .2in;">
Fuck that.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .2in;">
I’d take the Russians before I’d ever let them send me
back.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .2in;">
Hell, I’d even stay with the Irish before I let that
happen. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .2in;">
I followed the goon through the bar and toward a
darkened staircase. Everyone we passed sent curious looks my way, but my new
friend didn’t offer any explanations. I appreciated his discretion, even if he
was trying to keep the number of witnesses to a minimum. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .2in;">
At the top of the stairs, we took the single hallway
to the farthest closed door. I ignored the sounds coming from the other rooms
as we walked by and the occasional screams of both pleasure and pain. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .2in;">
<i>Eyes wide open</i>,
I reminded myself. I was stepping into this world fully aware of what I was
getting into. I was choosing a life of crime, of immorality… of sin. This was
my life, and for the first time ever, I was deciding how I wanted to live it.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .2in;">
My guide pounded his meaty fist against the door until
someone on the other side called out a terse, “Come in.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .2in;">
The door opened and the goon shoved me through it.
“This kid says he can get us the next shipment of Irish guns. Says he wants to
trade something for it.” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .2in;">
I hadn’t said that. A wave of gratitude washed through
me for this nameless stranger. I knew enough about the world that I could
recognize this for what it was—a future favor I would be expected to make
right. I was grateful enough to be okay with owing this guy one. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .2in;">
The cool, calculated gazes of three well-dressed men
turned to me. The bosses. I had never seen them in person before, but it was
obvious who they were. The entire room was practically bowed in their presence.
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .2in;">
I’d overheard the Irish talk about them enough to know
there were three of them and they were brothers. Dymetrus was the muscle in the
family. He controlled the enforcers and handled the punishments. Aleksander—the
brains. He made the money decisions and ran the businesses. And Roman—the boss
of bosses. He was the face of the family, the oldest brother and the end all be
all of the Russian mafia in this city. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .2in;">
It was Roman I would have to convince. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .2in;">
It was Roman I would have to survive. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .2in;">
And there he sat, directly across the room from me, at
the head of the table, his brothers to both sides of him, his closest men in
chairs bordering the large room. He was dark-haired and slick-looking, like oil
personified. He was groomed to perfection and his tailored suit was worth more
than my life. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .2in;">
I hated him immediately. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .2in;">
He had everything I wanted and didn’t have. Money,
power, security, a place to sleep. Something settled inside me, dropping to my
gut like the first stone of a new building, the one the rest of the foundation
would be built on. Or the seed of a mighty oak that took root and began the
arduous task of growing, developing, of becoming something bigger, better and
more permanent than what it was. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .2in;">
I decided right then and there that I wanted everything
Roman had. Not just the money and the clothes and the material possessions—I
wanted the job too. I wanted the power. I wanted his empire. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .2in;">
And today was the first step to getting it. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .2in;">
“Speak, child,” he ordered, his voice heavy with
Russian influence. “Tell us your tale.” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .2in;">
His black eyes glinted in the low light, sparking with
curiosity and mystery. I held his gaze and ignored the buzzing of nerves
threatening to make me puke. “I did a job for you two months ago. It was an
electronics store. I climbed up a wall and turned off security cameras, then
hid in a space between two walls and jumped the driver of a delivery truck when
he stepped out of the cab.” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .2in;">
Roman’s head tilted to the side. “I thought you were
going to tell me about where I can find Irish guns.” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .2in;">
“I want a job,” I told him evenly. “If I tell you
about the guns, I want to work for you.” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .2in;">
“It sounds as though you’re already working for me,”
Roman countered. “And the Irish. And who knows who else.” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .2in;">
I shook my head, realizing I needed to slow down. “I
don’t want to be a six. I want to be one of you.” I jerked my chin toward the
bouncer. “I want to be <i>bratva</i>.” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .2in;">
Roman’s eyes narrowed. “You’re a child.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .2in;">
“I’m about to help you take out the Irish,” I reminded
him. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .2in;">
“What did the Irish do to make you hate them so much?”
his brother asked. By his trimmed beard and glasses, I pegged him as Aleksander,
but I couldn’t be sure. “Why are you here tattling on them as though we are
your mother and they have picked on you at school?” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .2in;">
I shook my head again. They weren’t getting it. “I
never wanted to be Irish,” I explained. “Since the job two months ago, I’ve
only wanted to be Russian.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .2in;">
“Then you should have stayed working for us,” Roman
sighed. “Now we can’t trust you. Now we assume you are an Irish spy and we
should send you back to them with your tail between your legs.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .2in;">
“Or in a body bag,” Dymetrus murmured. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .2in;">
Heat rushed to my brain and I felt my face turn red.
“I’m not a spy. I went to the Irish in order to find you something to take them
out. That’s all. I never wanted to work for them.” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .2in;">
The three brothers stared at me. “Did someone tell you
to do that?” Roman asked. He turned to his other brother. “Who was in charge of
that job? Who would give advice of that nature to this… child?” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .2in;">
Dymetrus snorted. “Leon Valero ran point as I
remember. We needed his daughter on the inside. He didn’t do a half bad job of
it, but Leon’s not kind enough to recruit a kid.” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .2in;">
Daughter. I wondered if they meant Caroline. I filed
that information away. “It wasn’t Leon,” I interrupted and tensed for their
response. “It’s not important who told me what to do. Besides they didn’t say
specifically to get work from the Irish, just that I needed to do something to
prove my worth in order to stay. I want to stay, so I did something to prove my
worth. That’s all. I’m <i>not</i> an Irish
spy. They probably won’t even notice I’m gone. I was just a six for them. A six
that happened to be in the right place at the right time.” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .2in;">
“What is your name?” Roman asked when I expected him
to demand more information. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .2in;">
Nerves pinged through me again, my stomach tightening
into a twisted ball. “Sayer.” I cleared my throat. “Sayer Wesley.” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .2in;">
Roman sat back in his chair. “How do I know that
name?” He turned to his brother again. “Why is that name familiar.” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .2in;">
“His father was a cop,” Aleksander offered. “He’s dead
now.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .2in;">
Recognition flashed in Roman’s eyes. “Suicide.” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .2in;">
I scanned the room for the closest trash can,
convinced I was going to puke. Thankfully, I hadn’t eaten anything today so
there was nothing in my stomach. I managed to nod. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .2in;">
Roman shared a look with his brothers before turning
his black eyes back to me. “It’s time you told us everything, Sayer Wesley.
Starting with how a dead cop’s kid ends up trying to defect from the family his
own dear dad used to work for.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .2in;">
“My dad might’ve been Irish, but I hated him. I want
nothing to do with his family. I want nothing to do with the Irish.” I spit the
words out as promises. Anger bubbled beneath my skin, fury ready to be
unleashed in my fisted hands.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .2in;">
“You say that here,” Roman countered calmly. “But what
about to them? Maybe you say the same things about the Russians to them. Surely
they expect you to carry on his legacy. Surely they expect another dirty cop?
Or at the very least a loyal soldier.” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .2in;">
I ground my teeth together. “Then this will set them
right.” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .2in;">
Something in my tone or in my eyes must have finally
convinced them I was telling the truth. Roman sat back in his chair and folded
his arms over his chest. “And how can we trust someone one that hates his
father so much? Family means something to us.” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .2in;">
“Family means something to me too. I just want to be
able to choose who my family is. I want to decide who I call brother and who I
swear my life to. The Irish don’t get that honor. My fucking dad didn’t get
that honor.” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .2in;">
“And you think the guns are enough?” Roman asked still
calm and unruffled. “You think one ship full of guns is enough to turn your
Irish blood Russian?” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .2in;">
I struggled to swallow past the baseball-sized lump in
my throat. “Yes.” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .2in;">
“You’re wrong,” Roman said with a small, amused smile.
“But it’s a start.” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .2in;">
His words were a fatal blow, a crushing disappointment
that felt like total destruction. I hadn’t realized how much I had hoped that
this would be easy or how desperately I needed them to give me what I wanted. I
had nowhere else to go. I had no backup plan. I had no other options. “A-a
start?” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .2in;">
“Who told you that you needed to prove yourself to
become <i>bratva</i>?” Roman demanded in a
tone I knew better than to argue with. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .2in;">
“A girl,” I confessed quickly.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .2in;">
The brothers shared another look. “Did this girl have
a name?” Aleksander asked. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .2in;">
I licked dry lips and contemplated how to answer.
“There were two girls there. It was the one with short hair.” I felt proud of
myself for not giving away her name. If the Russians were like the Irish, they
had a dozen or so nameless street kids working for them. The bosses wouldn’t
know who they were. And I wouldn’t be expected to remember one of them after
meeting them only once. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .2in;">
Only I did remember her. I remembered everything about
her.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .2in;">
The brothers lapsed into Russian, their expressions
growing stern and serious. They seemed to be arguing about something, gesturing
toward me and the window behind them. And then they said her name. Caroline
Valero. And I knew I’d turned her in. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .2in;">
<i>Shit. <o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .2in;">
I swallowed and tried to pick up the repeated phrases
or words so I could go to the library tomorrow and look them up, but it was
impossible to understand them. I didn’t know any Russian and they were speaking
way too fast for me to memorize anything substantial. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .2in;">
Roman had the last say and the other brothers closed
their mouths, even though they didn’t look happy about it. He turned his gaze
back to me once more and looked more sinister than ever. I couldn’t pinpoint it
for a second, but I realized he reminded me of a cartoon cat with a mouse
dangling from his fingertips. He had something he wanted. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .2in;">
And I was just now realizing that something was me. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .2in;">
“I want you to tell me about the guns, Sayer Wesley.
If your information proves to be accurate and if my men are able to procure the
weapons, I will in fact allow you to become <i>bratva</i>.
Not a six, like you’ve suggested, but a brother. We will blood you so that you
will no longer be Irish, but Russian. We will tattoo you so that everyone in
this city knows who you belong to, so your ties with the Irish mob will forever
be severed. And we will treat you as one of us. We will give you a place to
live and you will work for us for the rest of your life. Is that what you
want?” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .2in;">
The promise was too much to resist. My voice shook
with dangerous hope as I answered, “That is what I want.” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .2in;">
“Then there will be one more task for you to complete.
If you can give us the Irish and we make you <i>bratva</i>, then you must do one more thing.” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .2in;">
Reality sliced through me and I realized I had walked
into the spider’s web. Willingly. It was one thing to become Russian. It was
another thing entirely to owe them a favor. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .2in;">
“What thing?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .2in;">
Roman hesitated long enough that I thought he might
not tell me, that he might make me wait until after I was <i>bratva</i> to demand his pound of flesh. At last he said, “You must
give us Caroline Valero.” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .2in;">
My heart kicked at my chest and I pushed up onto the
balls of my feet, readying to run. “What do you mean?” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .2in;">
“I want her,” Roman explained. Before I could fly
across the table and murder him, he added. “In the brotherhood. She has a…
special set of skills I only see improving. I want to own her talent. I want her
to be<i> bratva</i>.” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-outline-level: 1; text-indent: .2in;">
“She’s already a six—”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .2in;">
“She works begrudgingly to help her father,” Roman
explained. “She has no intentions of getting marked. My niece tells me she has
plans to go to college and leave the life completely.” His nose wrinkled in
distaste. “Not only do I refuse to lose her talent, she has a certain influence
over my niece that I will not abide. She must be <i>bratva</i>. Do you understand?” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .2in;">
From the second I saw Caroline, I knew she was
different. This information didn’t surprise me at all. She didn’t look Russian.
And she didn’t look like she belonged in that back alley. She was the most
beautiful thing I had ever seen and if she hadn’t talked to me, I wouldn’t have
believed she was real. Of course she wanted to go to college. She didn’t belong
with these lowlifes. She didn’t belong to this world. “You want me to convince
her to not go to college?” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .2in;">
Roman stretched his neck impatiently. “I want you to
give her a reason to stay. A reason she cannot leave.” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .2in;">
I shook my head. “I don’t follow.” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .2in;">
Roman said what sounded like a curse word in Russian
and leaned forward, stretching his folded hands in front of him on the sleek
table. “I want you to give me a reason to make her <i>bratva</i>. I want you to prove you belong here by securing her future
with me.” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .2in;">
My heart pounded and adrenaline rushed through me as I
realized what I was being asked. There were two ways to enter a life like this
one. The first was to walk willingly into it. Like I was trying to do. The
second was to do something that trapped you inside—usually a sin of some kind,
a bargain with the devil that could not be broken. They were asking me to give
them an opportunity to trap Caroline in the <i>bratva</i>.
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .2in;">
“How much time do I have?” I asked, my tongue heavy
and stiff in my mouth. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .2in;">
“You have until she tries to leave,” Roman answered,
his lips twisting with a small smile. “She will work for us as long as she
lives here and her father is working for our organization. I need her choice to
be taken away from her. I need her loyalty. You have until she graduates high
school. But sooner would be preferable.” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .2in;">
The tumultuous feelings inside of me started to become
clearer. I realized I wasn’t afraid nor was I upset on her behalf. I was
excited. Thrilled. Happy. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .2in;">
It turned out that Roman and I wanted the same thing—Caroline
Valero. His task was in complete alignment with what I had set out to do. <o:p></o:p></div>
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“Your price is Caroline Valero?” I asked when I
started to doubt what I’d heard. Could I want this so badly I had just imagined
it? <o:p></o:p></div>
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“Make her mine,” Roman ordered. “And you will always
belong to this brotherhood.” <o:p></o:p></div>
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“Okay,” I told him knowing that it was a lie. Knowing
that Caroline would never be his. But I would do what he asked to make her
mine. I would figure out how to make her <i>bratva</i>
not so she wouldn’t leave the Russians, but so she wouldn’t leave me. <o:p></o:p></div>
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I spent the rest of the night explaining the shipment
of guns I knew was on the way. I gave all the details of how many men would be
there to pick it up and exactly where the guns would go. I showed them the fax
for the port details and what time they could expect the ship to dock. After
they had everything they needed, they called the bookkeeper over and arranged a
place for me to stay. And then sent me home with him. <o:p></o:p></div>
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He gave me a place to stay, a shower, a hot meal and a
bed to sleep in. I fell asleep knowing my future was secure, knowing my place
in the brotherhood was as good as finalized, knowing I would get Roman
everything he asked, because it was everything I wanted. <o:p></o:p></div>
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I would do anything to make Caroline Valero mine. Even
if that meant making her <i>bratva</i> with
me.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Rachelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17973308145047978707noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8713760887182467034.post-35536057215624741972017-01-19T09:00:00.000-06:002017-01-19T12:56:55.921-06:00Life in 2017Hello new normal!<br />
<br />
I teach a Bible study on Thursday mornings. I love the group of women I'm blessed to spend time with around a table where we stretch to make room so all of us can sit together. We're blissfully child-free for two full hours so we can chat about life and God and all the things in between. Sometimes we rush to class late, straight from a morning of chaos. Sometimes we stroll through the door prepared for class and just happy to be with authentic, beautiful women that care about us.<br />
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Regardless of how we show up, we always have a great time. We always dive deep into each others' lives and spend the short amount of time we get each week in real, honest conversation.<br />
<br />
This semester we're doing a study called None Like Him by Jen Wilken. The subject of the book is God. And His attributes. Jen spends each chapter on a specific trait of God's, helping us dive deeper in knowledge of who He is and in turn, knowledge of who we are as humans.<br />
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Spoiler Alert- God is so much greater than us. His ways are not our ways. His thoughts are not our thoughts.<br />
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Every chapter I'm reminded of how finite I am. How limited. How quickly my life is over. And how unlike God I am even while I'm made in His image.<br />
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In one of my favorite chapters of the books, Jen tackles God's self-sufficiency. It's a beautiful chapter filled with all kinds of profound nuggets. But the point that hit me the hardest is that God is completely needless in His self-sufficiency. He does not need humanity. Not our obedience or worship or even existence. He created us out of love and continues to love us because He <i>is</i> love. There is no other motive or reason.<br />
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In contrast, we as humans are nothing but needful. He created us this way. From the very beginning, Adam and Eve were created to need. Even before there was sin, before the Fall, they needed food and water. They needed to work and have purpose. They needed communion with God. And they needed each other.<br />
<br />
They had needs. Vital ones. And likewise, as humans, we will also always have needs.<br />
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This was mind-blowing to me. I had never thought of "needing" as a basic human quality. In fact, being the control freak that I am, I've always considered my capacity to need as a flaw- a problem that I could fix if only I was organized enough or together enough or prolific enough. <br />
<br />
Sure, I could never deny basic physical needs. I will always need food and water and sleep. But the other stuff, the need to work and make money and have companionship could be circumvented if I could just be enough or do enough or <i>X</i> enough.<br />
<br />
Reading that chapter was like taking a full breath of clean air for the very first time. Not only will I never not need. But I'm not the only one. We're all like this. And yet we're embarrassed of our needs. We hide them. We cover them up with false bravado and practiced phrases like, "I'm fine. We're fine. Everything's <i><b>fine</b></i>."<br />
<br />
I spent some time meditating on this thought. The idea of exposing all of my needs is terrifying. I flushed with embarrassment from the safety of my own couch in the privacy of my own head just thinking about it. We might all be in this boat together, but I'm not ready or even close to being ready to list out every way that I need for the world to see.<br />
<br />
Doesn't it make you itchy just thinking about it?<br />
<br />
But I can admit that I don't think I've ever been more needy than I am in this season of my life. With all of these kids and responsibilities and hopes and dreams. With a full-time career and a full-time family and a full-time number of interruptions, I have never, in my entire life, been quite this overwhelmed.<br />
<br />
It's exhausting and scary and wonderful all at once.<br />
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Please don't misunderstand me, I am not complaining. I love having this little baby. I love having all of these wild kids. I love my job and my life and all of the responsibilities in my life. But the days pass too quickly and I'm left scrambling, wondering where the time went and how my To Do list got away from me. Again.<br />
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I'll figure it out. This is a season. One that I'm embracing and loving and figuring out. But I will get through it. And I will be a better person, we will be a better family, my work will be better because of it.<br />
<br />
The good news is that my brain is back!!!! And I mean that. I've been reflecting on how it happens for me. I tell people I can't write while I'm pregnant. I can barely function. And yet there is always this constant niggling doubt that whispers I'm just being lazy. If I would only try harder. If I could only get silence and enough coffee and a magic focusing pill I could write just like always.<br />
<br />
I can't help it. I am honestly, and without meaning to brag, a very productive person. I might always be late with projects, but that's usually because I take on too much at once, not because I don't want to work. I have an inability to see time accurately.<br />
<br />
Something that drives my husband crazy.<br />
<br />
He asks how long my errands will take. I honestly predict an easy hour.<br />
<br />
I stumble back to the house six hours later, amazed that nothing went as I planned and realizing I didn't consider drive time or customer lines or reality.<br />
<br />
My husband is not surprised. He usually says, "Don't worry about it. I know how things go with you."<br />
<br />
Unfortunately, I can't expect the rest of the world to be so forgiving. (Although many of you are and I love you for it.)<br />
<br />
Anyway, back to my point. So the whole time I was pregnant I just worried that I wasn't doing enough. Or that maybe I was broken somehow. That maybe this was my new normal and I would never be able to write again. <i>What ifs</i> bombarded my head like rubber bullets(painful but not fatal) and fear built up inside me like a tidal wave(complete in its sweeping destruction).<br />
<br />
And then I had the baby and something happened. Slowly at first, but gaining speed the further from delivery I survived. I could think again. Remember again. My personality started to come back and I started sleeping- really sleeping. Even if it was for only a few hours at a time- again.<br />
<br />
Then one day the switch was flipped. I went from brainless to creative all at once. I went from confused and addled to sharp and driven. I went from whiny, depressed and scared to a girl with a plan and the motivation to execute it.<br />
<br />
It happened last week. I'm not kidding. I struggled to write two sentences in a row for almost the entirety of 2016 and then in the span of three days I furiously wrote 18,000 words.<br />
<br />
The doubt faded. The frustration quelled. And in their absence I found myself again and smiled.<br />
<br />
My writer's block wasn't permanent, it was only pregnancy. <b><i><u>Whew!</u></i></b><br />
<b><i><u><br /></u></i></b>
I can't even accurately explain the relief I felt. Up until that point I had been wondering if I was going to have to retire from writing just to keep up with laundry. But now my fingers can fly over the keyboard and my thoughts make sense.Actual sense!<br />
<br />
I've found my first love again. (At least in the professional realm.) And I can't wait to begin again. But more importantly <b>finish</b> again. I can't wait to complete this season of Love and Decay and tie up the loose ends on a secret project I've been working on. I can't wait to get to the Happily Ever After of my latest contemporary romance. And actually finish a blog I start.<br />
<br />
I can't wait to write <b>The End</b> on so many projects and it finally, <i><u>finally</u></i> feels possible.<br />
<br />
So many of you are waiting for Love and Decay: Revolution and I know you're tired of hearing how it's coming soon. Especially now that soon means nothing to you and you pretty much want to throat punch me.<br />
<br />
First and foremost, <b>Thank You</b> for waiting this long. Thank you for understanding my struggles. Thank you for forgiving me for being only human. And thank you for supporting me despite your frustration. <br />
<br />
My gratitude for your graciousness is real and soul deep.<br />
<br />
I will be finishing the series soon. I promise you. I'm working on it now. Even though it's hard to hear or say, I was right not to publish it while I was pregnant. Looking back at what I had written, I'm breathing a big sigh of relief I held back.<br />
<br />
It needs work.<br />
<br />
And help.<br />
<br />
And possibly a divine intervention.<br />
<br />
But the bones are there and I'm hopeful that it won't take long to edit and then work through with a professional editor and then publish.<br />
<br />
The last four episodes will be released this winter/early spring and finally Revolution, Season One will wrap up.<br />
<br />
In the meantime, I'm going to be marketing my next adult contemporary romance. And since I haven't published a book in this genre since September 2015, I'm going to be pushing it a lot. That doesn't mean I won't be working on Love and Decay. It just means both releases in both genres are extremely important to me.<br />
<br />
I just want you to rest assured that even if you see a lot of The Opposite of You, it doesn't mean I'm neglecting Love and Decay. I can't stress enough that both releases are super important to me. And I am working as hard as I can to give you both books.<br />
<br />
That's exciting right? So many goodies to look forward to in the next couple months!!!!<br />
<br />
And just in case you missed it, here is the cover, blurb and pre-order for The Opposite of You!!!!<br />
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I’ve sworn off men. <o:p></o:p></div>
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All men. <o:p></o:p></div>
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Famous last words, right? You’re expecting some epic tale of reluctant
love and my dramatic change of heart? Well, you’re not going to get it. <o:p></o:p></div>
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I’m stubborn. And headstrong. And I’ve just survived the worst three
years of my life. After escaping an abusive fiancé to live in hostels and cheap
hotels while I worked my way across Europe, I’ve come to two conclusions. <o:p></o:p></div>
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The first? Now that I’m back home, I’m going to squander my expensive culinary
degree on a food truck that caters to the late night drunk crowd. <o:p></o:p></div>
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The second? I’m going to prove to the bastard across the plaza that my
street food is better than his fussy five course monstrosities.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Killian Quinn might be <i>Food and Wine’s</i>
Chef to Watch Out For. He might have a Michelin Star. He might have every food
critic in the city wrapped around his too-large fingers. But he’s also
pretentious and unbearably arrogant and the very opposite of me. <o:p></o:p></div>
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So he can keep his unsolicited advice and his late night visits and his
cocky smiles. I want none of it. Or him. <o:p></o:p></div>
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I want the opposite.</div>
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Pick up your pre-order <a href="http://amzn.to/2joiUjv">HERE!!!!</a> <o:p></o:p></div>
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<br />Rachelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17973308145047978707noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8713760887182467034.post-60536548857651367492016-12-22T08:00:00.000-06:002016-12-22T08:00:24.101-06:00Baby + Work + Everything Else UpdateSo you've probably heard or seen- since I've posted a thousand pictures of him- that Saxon Zachary is finally here!!!<br />
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
If you get my newsletter, I sent out an official baby announcement with the story of his birth and plenty of pictures and all the details probably only I care about! Lol. (If you haven't signed up for the newsletter yet, sign up <a href="http://eepurl.com/3Ly5n">here</a>!!! I think you'll love it!)</div>
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<div>
But Zach and I are just thrilled that he is here with us and healthy and happy. Well, as happy as a hungry, sleepy newborn can be. He's just so precious. It's hard to do anything but hold him. </div>
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Plus, it's great to not be pregnant anymore! The volcanic heartburn is gone. Woo hoo! My sciatic nerve works again! It had completely quit over the last few months. Abandoned me. Mutinied if you will. I spent days dragging my dead legs around and wondering if I'd ever be able to not waddle again. But the best part? I can bend over without getting irrationally angry at anyone or anything in the vicinity. I had no idea bending over could be so enraging... Clearly those last few months of pregnancy turned me into some kind of psychotic, hormonal, uncomfortable banshee.<br />
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But it's over now. Whew. </div>
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I love having newborns. It's probably what has gotten us into this whole mess of a life with all these children. But I am not a good pregnant person. </div>
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I can admit that. </div>
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After five of these, I've come to terms with it. </div>
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So all of us, the kids, Zach(probably especially Zach) and me are happy that it's over! </div>
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Life is pretty much returning to our new normal. Which means a lot of chaos. And a lot of kids. And a lot of noise. But it's the kind of mayhem we love and cherish around here. </div>
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My brain even feels not so... empty. </div>
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Which is a major improvement. Trust me. </div>
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So where does that leave me with work? I've had so many messages and questions about book releases and Love and Decay and Starbright and on and on. </div>
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<br /></div>
<div>
First, let me say, again(Sorry if you're tired of hearing this), that 2016 <strike>completely imploded for me</strike> did<i> not </i>go anything like I expected it to. </div>
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I had big dreams, you guys! Books to write. Aspirations to aspire to. Plans to implement. Goals to reach. Worlds to take over. (just kidding.) </div>
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And instead I spent what feels like the entire year pregnant and useless. As harsh as that sounds, I'm at peace with the year now. It wasn't at all what we expected or planned for, but we have Saxon now. So whatever the consequences- however far my career disintegrated- it was worth it. </div>
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But now it's time to get back to work. </div>
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Big time.<br />
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So hopefully that means 2017 will once again be a year for publishing. Publishing all the books. And all the things you've been waiting on.</div>
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And at the same time remember how to do this whole newborn thing. You guys, it's been so long! Not just with newborns but with babies. </div>
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Solo, our former-youngest, is four now. He's potty trained. He sleeps through the night. He dresses himself and feeds himself and can even zip up his own coat and put his shoes on. </div>
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There have been these epiphany-like moments for me during motherhood that I've been able to mark real change. </div>
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For instance, when I didn't have to cut up pizza anymore. That was huge! Dinner could suddenly be easy because the baby could pick up his own pizza and eat it without help.</div>
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Or when they all started taking showers instead of baths. Suddenly bath night wasn't quite so daunting. Suddenly it didn't take an entire evening to bathe four kiddos! They could do it (mostly) on their own! </div>
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And yet, now we're back at the beginning. Diaper changes. Constant feedings. Sleepless nights. </div>
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My husband was trying to soothe Saxon yesterday while I cleaned up the kitchen and he couldn't get the baby quiet. I walked over and said, have you tried changing his diaper? Zach laughed and admitted, I honestly didn't even think of that! </div>
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That's where we're at. We're trying to remember how to ride this old, rusty, well-worn bike. We're kind of getting the hang of it again... slowly... but we're not quite there yet. </div>
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And yet, we're loving every single second of having a baby again. He's so squishy! And cuddly. And sweet. </div>
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My favorite part is watching my older kids fall in love with him. They are so sweet and so helpful. They've made me promise to bring him to their Christmas parties so they can show him off to their classes no less than 204840 times. And everyone is always fighting over whose turn it is to hold him. Including Zach. </div>
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Saxon is going to be the most spoiled, adored, cherished baby ever. </div>
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And that makes my heart so full. </div>
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Do you know what else makes my heart full??? Actually getting back to real work! I'm going to give you a more detailed update on everything I'm working on next week. It's part of my goals and resolutions blog for 2017. But for now, just know that I'm strongly creating once again.<br />
<br />
Life has changed for us in big ways and I know it won't be the same as it was before. I know I'll be slower to finish things. I know my work will be highly interruptable. I know how and when I work will have to change. But it's time to<strike> get shit done</strike> publish something!</div>
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And I cannot wait to do just that!<br />
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Until then... Here is Saxon Zachary! </div>
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Rachelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17973308145047978707noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8713760887182467034.post-23438637471043397742016-11-08T08:00:00.000-06:002016-11-08T08:00:12.082-06:00All My Political ThoughtsI'm quiet about politics on social media. I don't share my opinion often. Or ever.<br />
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I have an issue with blurting out the headlines of my thoughts in a simple status update when the audience receiving it doesn't know the background behind it, or the thousand other thoughts that accompany it, or the foundation of my convictions, belief system and constitutional loyalty.<br />
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The truth is, in real life, I'm obsessed.<br />
<br />
I can't even say I'm mildly obsessed.<br />
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I'm legitimately, whole heartedly, completely obsessed.<br />
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The only shows I have DVRed are my favorite news shows. My kids groan when the TV turns on because they already know the stations I frequent. When Zach and I take road trips, we don't listen to music or books on tape, we turn on Talk Radio and leave it there for the entirety of our journey.<br />
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When we went to North Carolina we got in a good 40 hours of political talk.<br />
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And we weren't even bored!<br />
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We love it.<br />
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Just kidding. Zach is interested in it and needs to listen so he has a good idea of what is going on in the world.<br />
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I actually love it.<br />
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I might be the only person in America that is disappointed today is election day for the simple fact that by the end of the day, it's going to be over. A president will be picked and I'll have to accept America's fate one way or the other without the enjoyment and anticipation of the race.<br />
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Crazy, right?<br />
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I'm okay with it.<br />
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To be honest though, I'm also dreading the outcome of election day because that means we will have a winner. One of these people, Clinton or Trump, will be president.<br />
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I'm not excited about either.<br />
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In my head, I've dubbed this election The Criminal vs. The Clown.<br />
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I can't get on board with either candidate. My spirit cries out in protest when I imagine myself in the voting booth, trying to decide between the definition of political corruption and the definition of hatred, bigotry, sexism and racism.<br />
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How did we get to this place America?<br />
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Why are we choosing the most influential leader in the free world from the lesser of two evils?<br />
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Where have all the good politicians gone? (Sung to the tune of Paula Cole's <i>Where Have All the Cowboys Gone?)</i><br />
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Yippie I, Yippie Yay.<br />
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I'm equally entertained with these candidates as I am embarrassed. Not just because of the scandals painting their very sordid pasts, but because of how they've conducted themselves. Because of the underhanded tactics they've both used to get ahead.<br />
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Because of the people they are and the lack of morals, integrity and decency they both display.<br />
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But this is where we're at. This is what we've come to.<br />
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Basically, we've made this bed, America. Now we have to lie in it.<br />
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There was a long period of time over the last year where I had decided I wouldn't, <i><b>couldn't</b></i> vote if these were my only two options. I prayed for other options. Fervently.<br />
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Daily.<br />
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I imagined this election, such an important one, to be a battle between party giants with their souls still in tact and their bodies bleeding either Democrat Blue or Republican Red.<br />
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And while the two of them do represent two sides of the aisle and their opinions and policies drastically differ, they don't represent any side of this constitutional democracy that I can recognize.<br />
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I used to consider myself a conservative republican. But now I feel politically displaced.<br />
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Donald Trump is not a man that represents what I believe. He does not stand for what I stand for. Or speak in any way I could be proud of.<br />
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He has taken my party and twisted it into something ugly. Something filled with hate and prejudice. Something I want no part of.<br />
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And after watching this election so closely and with such a wide open mind(since I need <i>some</i> candidate to vote for.) I would feel the same way as a Democrat.<br />
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This is not who we are, America.<br />
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This is not what we stand for.<br />
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America is built on this beautiful premise that you can be anything you want to be through hard work. The American Dream.<br />
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I've traveled the world some and I know that this belief in a better life is unique among the world. It is laughed at by people who don't understand it. It is whispered about with reverence by people who wish it could be true for them. It is honored by the people in this nation, held tightly against our breast and protected as one of our strongest attributes.<br />
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And yet, our two options for president don't even understand this basic concept.<br />
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They sit above the law, corruption and greed dictating their entire lives. They use the working class of this nation to further their agendas. And, I really believe, have no desire to help America. Only themselves.<br />
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I'm saddened by our choices.<br />
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I'm sickened by the thought of choosing either. I feel as if I'm betraying myself. I'm going against my convictions, the very foundation of myself, in choosing one of them for president.<br />
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But that said... I will still vote.<br />
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I will still exercise my right as an American and step into the ballot box and make a decision.<br />
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Even if I still can't tell you who it will be. (Because I don't know yet.)<br />
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The presidency is only one of three judicial branches in America. Which means the rest of my ballot is even more important than my presidential pick. I have all kinds of decisions to make with all kinds of politicians that haven't yet disappointed me at this level.<br />
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And even while I'm disappointed in my options, I refuse to believe that they truly represent America. That this is truly the spirit of America. We are better than this.<br />
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We will be better than whomever is picked.<br />
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This great nation will continue to be a great nation long after the ballots are cast tomorrow. Long after the next four years are over.<br />
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America isn't a presidential seat. It's a country filled with hard working people that care about their neighbor, that fight for what they believe in. That band together in times of crisis, in times of peace, in times like these.<br />
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We are more than who we vote for. We are more than the next four or eight years. We are more than this decision.<br />
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I know a lot of people are struggling the same way I am. (And if you're not struggling... if you can confidently stand behind your presidential pick, then I'm truly happy for you. I'm proud of you. This is your right as an American and you have my full support.)<br />
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But if you are struggling... if you are having trouble deciding who will get your vote once you step behind the curtain, then I want to encourage you.<br />
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It <strike>sucks ass</strike> physically hurts to finally make this decision and vote against my integrity, but I refuse to be embarrassed about it.<br />
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I refuse to feel bad or apologize or not do it.<br />
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This is my right as an American.<br />
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This is my privilege.<br />
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When the majority of the world doesn't get a say in their next president. At least not an honest and fair say. When a large percentage of women today still live in oppression and abuse, unable to cast a vote of their own. When I have all of these thoughts and frustrated feelings and predictions about the next four/eight years, I can't help but stay loyal to this inalienable right.<br />
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Don't let our options stop you from going to the voting booth, America. Don't let the ominous forecast looming over either candidate stop you from using your voice, your power, your American spirit to make a choice.<br />
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There are other candidates and parties to vote for besides the two biggest. Their are other positions to fill and seats to occupy.<br />
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Voting matters.<br />
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How you vote matters.<br />
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Don't sit on the sidelines feeling defeated. Empower yourself by grabbing hold of this constitutional opportunity and making a hard, very thought out decision.<br />
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Empower this nation by making a choice. By fighting for what you believe in. By shaping this country into the legacy we can be proud of.<br />
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We are America.<br />
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And no matter who wins at the end of the day, we will continue to be America.Rachelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17973308145047978707noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8713760887182467034.post-28464717389503729772016-09-28T08:30:00.000-05:002016-09-28T08:30:15.488-05:00Inspiration and Other Filthy LiarsI realize as I prepare to write this blog that I might come off as a little hypocritical. So I just want to assure you that this post is as much for me as it is for you.<br />
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Because I need to hear this too. Be reminded of it. Let the wisdom and words sink deep into my bones. Erase my excuses and get my arse back into shape. </div>
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It's not easy. But it's necessary. </div>
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So I have this friend. She wants to be a writer. Which is nothing new to me. If you've done this as long as I have or even if you haven't. Even if you've only done it a fraction of the time, you realize that most people on this earth want to be a writer. </div>
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This big dream of mine? Yeah, not so unique.</div>
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The majority of humans I've met also want to be writers. They have this "idea" for a story they've wanted to write for years. It's a really good one. And super unique. They think it will do awesome. </div>
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I can't tell you how many times I've heard this exact pitch. At book signings, at the supermarket, at family gatherings, at the DMV, at wherever I go. When people find out what I do for a living, I can promise you, I'll hear this more than once. </div>
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Personally, even if the tone of this blog sounds skeptical or sarcastic, I think this is awesome. As a student of social anthropology, what this tells me is that each of us has lived life in such a unique way that we believe our stories are worth telling. </div>
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No matter who we are or what we've done or what has been done to us, we still have a voice.</div>
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A voice that should be heard. </div>
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Granted, there is a good chunk of the population that has zero desire to write a story or even a paragraph. But I don't think it's because they have any less inclination to "be heard" or to "tell their story" they just don't enjoy writing. </div>
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They probably prefer math. The weirdos. </div>
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These are the people that pitch me ideas about their own stories. They either hand it over for "free" as if giving me a gift. Or, they think it would be a fantastic idea for them to dictate while I write for them.</div>
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Okay, so I don't even have the time or mental energy to finish one of my own books... let alone write you a book so you can make money off me... but I still, truly, think this is amazing. </div>
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It's human nature to want to be heard. It's also human nature to communicate through story telling. Long before nonfiction and the news came around, early humans passed down the history of their culture through storytelling. </div>
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We still get to do that today. </div>
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I'm also a firm believer in following your dreams. However crazy they may be. However outrageous or simple or practical they may be. </div>
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And I don't think we should even limit ourselves to one dream. Have as many dreams as you like. Follow them all. Do all the things. Be all the things. </div>
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I love being a writer. But one day I'd also like to own a food truck. If I had time, I would go back to school and get my masters and doctorate in something, I would do it in a heartbeat. Hopefully one day I will.</div>
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And I have even more dreams. Bigger dreams. Crazier dreams. Smaller dreams that I hope to accomplish in the next few years. But I have so. many. dreams. And after fighting this hard to carve out a small space for my books in the publishing world, I know they'll take hard work and time and strategic planning on my part. </div>
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And that's okay.</div>
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Living out my dream job is the biggest privilege I could have imagined. It also has a huge amount of responsibility attached to it. </div>
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Not just to my readers and what they expect of me. But to my family whom I help provide for. And also to myself, my heart and my health. </div>
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I read a quote the other day that said, "Write until not writing makes you anxious." </div>
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Isn't that good? Because if this is your dream... if you ache and long and desperately need to be a writer, then write until not writing feels weird. Until you don't feel right about going a day without it. Until your thoughts don't flow and your feelings don't process and your dreams don't move until you are writing them down. </div>
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If writing is your dream, do it until you do it in your sleep and plot it when you're away from your computer and whisper it to your closest friends and shout it from the rooftops when it's finally finished. </div>
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If you are one of the hundreds of people that have shared your dream with me over the last five years, then don't stop until you reach it. Until you've made this dream your career. </div>
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And the same is true for anybody else reading this blog. Maybe you're dream isn't to be a writer. Maybe you want to be a CEO or the best mom in the world, an artist or doctor or world peace warrior. Whatever it is, fight for your dream with all that is in you. Until there is nothing left of the old you because all that remains is the you inside of your dream. The new you. The <b>you</b> you were always meant to be. </div>
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I've thought about this a lot over the last few years. When all of these people are opening up to me about this big dream they've had their entire life. What separates me from them? What makes me so special that I get to live out this dream and they are still left to dream it? </div>
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The answer is this... there is <b>nothing</b> special about me. There is nothing that makes me more and them less. There is nothing that makes my dream bigger than theirs or more attainable or more anything. </div>
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<b>We all start in the same place. </b></div>
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At the beginning of my dream, I was a new mom with babies to take care of. I also worked 30+ hours outside of the home to help my family make ends meat. I had no formal education in writing. I had no resources outside of my computer and favorite novels. I had nobody I could go to for advice or direction or wisdom. I had no extra money to attend conferences or workshops or even online seminars. </div>
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I had Google. And I had a fire inside of me that would not be put out. </div>
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<i>And that was it. </i></div>
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When I first started writing self-publishing was not even a thing. It was not nearly this easy to publish a book. And I struggled and dragged my bloody, limp manuscripts through the mud <b><i><u>every single day</u></i></b> working to get published. </div>
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I've told you my publishing story before, so I won't rehash that. But I want to make this point. It took me <b>five years</b> to make any money in publishing. </div>
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Five years from when I started writing to when I made a paycheck worth smiling about. </div>
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During that time I had a lot of opportunities to give up. There were more doors closed than opened. I felt like quitting more often than I ever felt like pushing forward. </div>
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That's an understatement. Trust me. </div>
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I remember carrying this heavy, crushing burden around every single day wondering if I was absolutely <i>insane</i> for wanting this thing that felt too big for me... too great for someone as little as me. </div>
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I would say these prayers out of desperation, crying out to God to take this dream away from me because I could not handle the rejection anymore. I could not face the disappointment. And it felt so selfish... it felt like the worst thing to want something so badly that I would spend so much time in prayer for it, that I would beg God for it, that I would force my family to endure it with me. I would plead with God to strip me of this dream if it wasn't His plan for me because I couldn't see past it. I couldn't see beyond wanting and needing and hoping for this one thing. </div>
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And the rejection. You guys. I still have a complex about it. I still expect to be rejected first. Turned down first. When opportunities knock on my door, I cannot get over my surprise.</div>
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Not after hundreds and hundreds of letters that said, "You're not good enough." </div>
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Okay, maybe that wasn't their exact wording, but that's what it felt like. </div>
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Over and over and over and over. </div>
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Even after I published, there was still the reality that I could not sell books. It wasn't until I made my first book FREE- actually giving it away- that I started to see any interest in my work. While, I will preach about how that turned into an opportunity until I'm blue in the face, it didn't always feel like that. </div>
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It still, in this warped, twisted, insecure way, felt like failure. </div>
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I say all that to get to this point. Because I want you to understand... I want you to know that I have been where you're at. Maybe I've even been worse off than where you. Maybe you're so crippled by fear that you haven't even taken a step towards your dream. Maybe you're stuck right where I was at, in the middle of a whole lot of failure and rejection and you have no idea which way to go or if things will ever get better. Maybe you're so satisfied with mediocrity that you haven't even thought to take your dream seriously. </div>
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(Like I said, a dream doesn't have to be this huge thing. It is whatever you want it to be. It's your dream. Your hope. Your decision. So if you are exactly happy with where you're at, then I'm not speaking to you. I'm definitely not trying to insult you. This post is exclusively for people that need a kick in the pants. And if that's not you, great job! We wish we could be you! But some of us need a little extra something-something.) </div>
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The inspiration part of your dream takes up about 2% of what actually goes into accomplishing what you want. The Muse sticks around just long enough to inspire hope and stir this dream to life and then she flees like the fickle runaway bride that she is. </div>
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<b>Inspiration will get you no where. </b></div>
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Let me say that again, <b><i>Inspiration does not make your dreams come true. </i></b></div>
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Inspiration doesn't even get you half way. </div>
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In fact, if you're not careful, inspiration can be as quick of a dream killer as anything else in this world. Because it abandons you. Because it never takes you to the end. Because you are human and have bad days and get tired or sick or overwhelmed with life and there is frankly, just not enough energy left to feel inspired after everything else you have going on in your life. </div>
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So. I have this friend. I love her dearly. She's one of my favorite humans ever. </div>
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She wants to write a book. In fact, we've talked about it for years. She's told me her dreams and story ideas and hopes for how a step into publishing could change things for her family. </div>
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In return, I've shared all of my publishing details with her. I've given her advice after advice after advice. I've read and carefully critiqued her work. I've helped her craft her skill and encouraged her to continue. </div>
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She's a phenomenal writer. I've even offered to co-write something with her. </div>
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But she never finishes anything she starts. She gives up as soon as life gets in the way or her week is a little too busy or she's just not in the mood. </div>
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Hear me when I say, you will NEVER be in the mood to reach your goals. Never. </div>
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No matter what they are. </div>
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Unless maybe your big goals are to eat chocolate and binge Netflix every night. Like mine have been recently. Because I promise you those ones are pretty easily attainable. </div>
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But as long as you're not seven months pregnant, reaching your dreams is going to take hard work. </div>
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And when you've hit the limit of your hard work and what you can stand and put up with and force out of your mind/body/spirit, you'll have to work even harder. </div>
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That's the thing with wanting to do great things, they take a massive amount of hard work. This is how your soul is refined. This is the fire you walk through until you are completely unrecognizable and all that is left of you is a seedling of a new you... a better you... <b>a you that has what it takes to do what it takes</b>. </div>
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The truth about inspiration is that it's easy. It takes no work. It's not hard to feel inspired. It's not hard to come up with ideas or plans or goals. </div>
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My mind is always spinning. It never turns off. Not even at night when I'm sleeping. So in this constant tornado of thoughts, one of my pass times is to think up advertising slogans for products I use. In another life, I think I would make a pretty great marketer. (If only I could figure out how to do it in this life...) </div>
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I have this great idea for Bush's Baked Beans for instance. In my family, in-laws and everything, we always mix a can of classic baked beans with a smaller can of the grillin' baked beans. We have our favorite flavor profiles that complement and taste amazing together. Plus it makes the regular baked beans so much richer and heartier. And since the grillin' beans are in a smaller can, you end up with the perfect amount of beans for our sizes of families. </div>
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I think this is genius. Also, delicious. And I think Bush's should start advertising this by matching two flavors together for their costumers. The consumers will love this because it's honestly yummy. And it takes the guess work out of picking two random flavors and hoping they go together. And Bush's will start selling twice as many cans of beans. Plus, their grillin' beans are the more expensive ones. </div>
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Now practically, what am I going to do with this information? Nothing. Bush's could care less about my ideas and I'm not a marketing expert so what do I really know? </div>
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The point is, the inspiration part of that genius idea took me thirty seconds. </div>
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Inspiration is easy. </div>
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It's the follow through that takes work. </div>
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I'm not going to coddle you and tell you that you just have to want something bad enough. In fact, throw away your dream boards and Pinterest inspirations and whatever else you're using to make yourself feel good about feeling inspired while nothing else gets accomplished. I get that you're busy. I get that you have a lot going on. </div>
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We all do. </div>
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I'm a full-time writer and the hardest thing about my schedule is finding time to write. How does that even make sense? </div>
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The truth is, if you want something done, you have to go after it, full-force, with your foot slammed down on the gas pedal, hoping that you crash into success before you drive off a cliff. You have to give up the unnecessary things in your life, even if you love them. You have to ignore distractions and social media and everything that isn't pushing you toward your goal. </div>
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You have to fight for it. And trust me when I say nobody, not a single other human on this earth, is going to fight for it for you. </div>
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It's up to you. And you alone. </div>
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When I first started writing, I woke up before my real job to get a few hundred words in. I gave up TV completely- and I had an extensive list of shows that I loved. I quit going to the distracting places on the internet that would suck up my time. And I said no to hanging out with friends or playdates or events so I could stay home and finish chapters and then books and then series. </div>
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It wasn't easy. </div>
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In fact, it was really really hard. And to be honest, it hasn't gotten easier. It's only gotten harder. It's really difficult to sell books in the current climate. It's even harder for me to find time to write them. </div>
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But this is my dream. And I realize now that I wasn't the one that started the fire inside me. That was God. He gave me this gift. This career. This hope in a future I'm too scared to speak out loud. Those prayers I used to pray were silly in the wake of God and His infinite plan. </div>
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But would it have mattered if I hadn't worked my tail off? He is the ultimate dream giver. But He is also the author of free will. </div>
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We are very welcome to sabotage His plans for us. </div>
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But we have just as much opportunity to see how great and wide and deep and massive His dream for us goes. </div>
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We just have to do our part. And it takes a lot of freaking work. </div>
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But we're strong enough, you guys. We're motivated enough. Use your inspiration for what it's there for- to kick start your journey. And the rest is up to you. </div>
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Work hard. </div>
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Try hard. </div>
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Believe hard. </div>
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Hope hard. </div>
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And never, ever give up.</div>
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Rachelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17973308145047978707noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8713760887182467034.post-46645246436832882802016-09-14T09:30:00.000-05:002016-09-14T09:30:08.510-05:00Good GriefI'm no stranger to grief.<br />
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My parents never left my brothers or me home when they attended funerals. We were always dragged along and told to be good and quiet while my parents paid their respects to people we knew and strangers from their past.<br />
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I've also lost a lot of family members. I was never the kid that had lots of stories about their grandparents. Mine, except for one grandmother and a great aunt that we called grandma even though she wasn't even blood related, passed away before my memory could take hold of them.<br />
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And as I got older, the funerals we attended became more personal, began to happen to people I cared about. People I loved.<br />
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Death is never convenient, but in my family especially, it always seems to interrupt holidays- specifically Christmas. A dear uncle passed away close to Christmas, interrupting our lives in a heartbreaking way and our present-opening from my child's perspective. My grandmother, the one I did know and love, also passed away near Christmas time. And my dad died the day after Christmas.<br />
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My dad. That has been, by far, the hardest grieving period of my life. There are days when I'm still not over his death... when the pain of losing him still cuts at my heart and brings tears to my eyes.<br />
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I lost him when I was twenty-one. Barely married for four months. And I took it very hard.<br />
<br />
His death changed me. Put me through a refining fire that I had to claw my way out of. I faced depression for the first time, anger like I never had, deep despair and confusion.<br />
<br />
I wrote about the five stages of grief in The Five Stages of Falling in Love. And for the sake of fiction, I made them very linear. Liz got to experience each stage by itself, in an organized order and with obvious intention for her process of moving on.<br />
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My five stages happened all at once and for a long time. They didn't tick off nicely or prepare me for the next. They hammered and railed at me like an unrelenting hurricane. I was tossed and turned and nearly drowned in the agonizing force of them.<br />
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But there was joy in that time too. And I was refined. I was made better. Matured. Strengthened. Pieced back together again.<br />
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I lost myself. And when I found who I was again, I was not the same. I was a better version of the girl I had been before.<br />
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Last week, one of my friends and a woman I respect very much, suffered unspeakable grief. She lost her child. Her infant. Her baby boy only a few days old.<br />
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Ever since I received the news, I have been mourning with her. Grieving this unfair loss deeply.<br />
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It is not something I can get over. And my depth of empathy for this beautiful, young mother does not end.<br />
<br />
This world we live in is so broken. My God created it in perfection, but sin has made death a reality. Pain and loss and heartbreak <i>our</i> realities.<br />
<br />
Life is not fair. It will never be fair. And until we cross into glory or Jesus Christ comes again, this is the truth we have to face.<br />
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But that doesn't mean that grief or pain or heartache is meaningless. Losing my dad was awful, but allowing the grief to mold me into someone better has changed my life. I will never be okay with the loss, the pain might never ease, but I am a stronger person because of what I went through.<br />
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A few weeks ago, I went to a conference called Belong. It's a women's only venue that has multiple speakers empowering, encouraging and uplifting thousands of women over a 24 hour period.<br />
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One of the sessions featured a band called Johnnyswim. I had never heard of them before, although they can <b>SING</b>. So I'm making it a priority to listen to them now.<br />
<br />
During their show, they sang a song that was about grief. They had both lost one of their parents only a month apart and struggled through severe grief of their own. Before they sang the song, they shared that there were a lot of people around them pressuring them to get over their loss. They wanted them to move on and get back to work. But as a couple, and a singing duo, they banded together and basically told everyone around them <b>No</b>. They didn't want to rush through their pain. They didn't want to "get over it." The people that had died meant something to them and they deserved the couple's mourning.<br />
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I so related to their words. I didn't rush through my grief. I couldn't have even if I wanted to. Physically I had no choice but to suffer through.<br />
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Although I didn't have this outlook. I didn't have the perspective to think about allowing the grief. I was only worried about getting out of it... getting back to the person I was before the loss... finding the pieces of me that had shattered in the wake of my dad's death.<br />
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And because of that, I paid the price. I lost a lot of friends. I gained a lot of weight. And I spent a lot of hours too concerned with what was wrong with me.<br />
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I love Amanda and Abner's thoughts on this. These people that we lose, these loved ones that are ripped away from us too soon, they deserve our tears. They deserve our heartache and attachment.<br />
<br />We loved them. Just because they're gone doesn't mean we love them less. Just because we won't get to be with them again this side of glory doesn't mean we will <i>ever</i> love them less.<br />
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I think, as a culture/society/human race/whatever, we need to stop treating grief like a disease. Or an obstacle to get over. It's not an epidemic that requires a cure or a personal flaw that requires more effort to overcome.<br />
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It is an integral and unavoidable part of life. And if we allow it room to breathe, we will also learn to breathe again.<br />
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Life goes on whether we want it to or not. That's the nature of time and our lives and being human. But when we're told to move on from our pain or to get better or be better, we're not given the opportunity to enjoy the journey. If we're rushing through the fire, our refinement process won't be complete.<br />
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I'm not going to lie, grieving sucks. Losing someone <b><i>SUCKS</i></b>. But sometimes the hardest times produce the best version of us.<br />
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If you've lost someone, I am sorry. I'm sorry for your pain and heartache. I'm sorry that life has hurt you and taken someone you love.<br />
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But I also encourage you to give into your tears. Give into the pain that your loved one deserves. That you deserve. Don't be afraid of the grief.<br />
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Allow yourself to mourn for your loved one with the emotion they are worthy of. Allow your tears to be the final gift to this person that impacted and changed your life. Even if it was for the worse. Allow your heartbreak to make you stronger, deeper... more full of life and love and understanding.<br />
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And on the other side of it, allow the pieces of your heart to mend back together and your soul to shine brighter than it ever has.Rachelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17973308145047978707noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8713760887182467034.post-53767660906779571812016-08-31T08:30:00.000-05:002016-08-31T08:30:10.551-05:00Epic FailA couples weeks ago, I posted a short little video called I Am. (You can watch it here if you haven't seen it: <a href="https://www.facebook.com/rachelhigginsonauthor/videos/1029539730497571/">https://www.facebook.com/rachelhigginsonauthor/videos/1029539730497571/</a> )<br />
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It was a collage of all these different things that I am.. Like a mother and a wife and a sister. And a writer, a speaker, a blogger.<br />
<br />And that I'm always late.<br />
<br />
Let's just acknowledge that one.<br />
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The video also had a clip of me saying that I am a failure.<br />
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It went on to say that I am a success as well.<br />
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But the failure part really captured people's attention. I had a flood of messages/comments from concerned readers encouraging me away from this idea of "failure." They gave me virtual hugs and promised that I wasn't a failure. They reminded me of all the things I've accomplished and how far I've come.<br />
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I felt so loved. And more than that it reconfirmed my opinion that I have the best readers in the entire world.<br />
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Seriously.<br />
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My readers are phenomenal, loving, sweet people that are always there to lift me up and make me feel like a rock star.<br />
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I don't take that for granted. I can't. It means too much to me.<br />
<br />
(Especially when I'm late so often and you still wait for my books!)<br />
<br />
But the outpouring of support got me to thinking about the source. This idea of failure. And how quickly people were to jump in and reassure me that I <b>wasn't</b> a failure.<br />
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Like failure is a bad thing.<br />
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Like admitting failure is embarrassing or less than.<br />
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I can admit that sometimes it is. Honestly, it sucks to fail. There is nothing quite like the way the heart wrenches with disappointment and skin flushes red with humiliation. Failure has a way of snaking around our insides and attaching itself to our self worth, squeezing us until we feel like there's nothing left.<br />
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It's one of the hardest things we have to face.<br />
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And one of the most debilitating.<br />
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Failure can cripple dreams and stunt growth. It ruins self confidence and taints our opinions of ourselves.<br />
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Or it can.<br />
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It certainly doesn't have to. After all, we get to be in control. We get to decide our feelings and thoughts and perception of ourselves and of this world.<br />
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We don't have to let failure define us. We don't have to let it dictate our emotions or direct our futures.<br />
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Instead of letting failure feel like failure... we could let it be motivation.<br />
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And experience.<br />
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And wisdom.<br />
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Growth. Maturity. Drive.<br />
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Part of the journey.<br />
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Pride.<br />
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I am absolutely blessed that people can look at me now and believe I am not a failure, but a success. That is such a huge moment in my life. One I have been working toward for a very long time.<br />
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But there is no way I would be where I am today without the culmination of an incredible amount of failures along the way.<br />
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And I mean that.<br />
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In fact, I'm to the point in my life where if I do something right first, if I don't fail and learn from countless mistakes, then I feel disappointed.<br />
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I worry about what I haven't learned and what I'm missing and if I'll be able to figure it out next time because I truly didn't understand the process and got lucky.<br />
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Failure is part of my overarching process. It's the tool I use to stay on track and push me forward with drive, purpose and destination.<br />
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To be honest, when I started writing ten years ago, I thought I had failed at life in general. I found myself pregnant, grieving the recent death of my father and fired from an internship that was supposed to launch my career (Because I was pregnant).<br />
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I had nothing left. All of my dreams were killed before I could really even try for them.<br />
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So I thought why not see if I could write a book. I couldn't do anything else. I was stuck in that place that tasted and felt and looked a whole lot like failure. I didn't plan on anything coming from writing other than a break from the depressing thoughts of what my life <i>should</i> be like. But I needed therapy. Badly. And writing had always been that for me.<br />
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What's funny to me, is that writing is now so deeply buried in my bones it's part of how I define myself. What I perceived as failure before was really the stepping stones to a bigger destiny.<br />
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In losing myself so completely... I found myself.<br />
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And the person I found, I liked a whole lot better than the one I left behind.<br />
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Then again when I tried to get traditionally published for four years and instead got nothing but hundreds upon hundreds of opportunities for rejection, that also felt like failure. Rejection and failure go hand in hand and with every form letter rejecting my work, I felt the sting of failure that much more acutely.<br />
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I could have given up.<br />
<br />Honestly, there were many times when I <i>wanted</i> to give up.<br />
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But because of that experience and the failure I couldn't escape, I found self-publishing. Which in turn shaped my life and made a career out of this thing I loved so much. It changed everything for me.<br />
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And when I couldn't get people to buy my book, I put it for free- again, stamping my decision with a giant FAILURE over the top. I had dedicated years to this book(Reckless Magic). I had poured my heart and soul and dreams into this book and now I was going to give it away for free as if my hard work meant nothing.<br />
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Except it wasn't failure. It wasn't anything like that. Instead of finding the rock bottom of every career goal I had ever had, it opened doors for people to find my book and discover my story and get to know me.<br />
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It tore the lid off of everything I thought publishing was and completely reshaped my definition of what it meant to be a success.<br />
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Of what it meant to succeed.<br />
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Through that failure I reached levels and goals I <b>never</b> thought I could get to.<br />
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Failure is a tricky little thing. Everyone defines it differently according to our personal standards. Some of us have harsher standards than others, but all of us let it whisper lies and manipulate us into thinking we're less than. That we can't measure up. That we haven't got what it takes.<br />
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When in truth, failure is really the catalyst to bigger things. We find our most honest self in the midst of our mistakes. Our goals and dreams and integrity are hammered out in the fires of failure as we see the truth in who we are and what we really want out of life.<br />
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Failure isn't a death sentence.<br />
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Failure is a tool we can use to reach our next achievement.<br />
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When I say that I'm a failure, I say it with pride. Because it means I tried. I tried hard. I showed up for life and gave it everything I have.<br />
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And yeah, sometimes it's hard to think of it like that. No matter how many times I fail it still hurts like hell.. But just because something hurts, doesn't mean it's not good for you.<br />
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Failure is as much success as it is the opposite. As long as you don't give up. As long as you let it be a tool and not a definition. As long as you demand thick skin and soul resilience. Because you are stronger than failure.<br />
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You are stronger than failing.<br />
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You are strong enough to make failure what it's meant to be- the beginning of success.<br />
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So wear it with pride and say it confidently, I am a failure.<br />
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And I am also a success.<br />
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Rachelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17973308145047978707noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8713760887182467034.post-67031956287885129012016-08-17T08:30:00.000-05:002016-08-17T08:30:09.469-05:00Back to LifeToday is a long awaited day in my life. <div>
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I have anticipated this day for months and years and... </div>
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Just kidding. It hasn't been that long. </div>
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But for about a month, I have been struggling to get to this day, limping along with the weight of four kiddos on my back, praying that we'll make it. </div>
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Today is Back to School. </div>
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Woot! </div>
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I wish I could be one of those moms that's saddened to send her kiddos off to school. I wish I could enjoy my kids being home so much that I just can't imagine them leaving me every weekday for the next nine months. </div>
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I wish. </div>
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But I'm not. </div>
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In general, I'm a seasons kind of girl. I love Nebraska because I get a taste of all four seasons. I love the first snowfall of the year, but by the time March rolls around, I'm desperate for flowers to bloom and the days to warm up. </div>
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The same with summer. I love long afternoons at the pool and sleeping in every morning. But right about now, I can hardly stand the heat. I need cool weather and thunderstorms and the smell of fire in the air. </div>
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The same with school. By May, I am a trainwreck. I face each remaining school day like it will be the day that breaks me. Homework becomes a headache. Getting up in the morning is nearly impossible. And all I can think about is having my kids home with me every day, enjoying summer to the fullest and sleeping in. </div>
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I don't know if you've noticed, but sleeping in is a big theme with me. ;) </div>
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But I'm ready for a change. My <i>kids</i> are ready for a change.</div>
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They stopped loving each other somewhere near the end of July. They can't stand the sight of each other. And the smallest infraction, such as accidentally bumping into each other on the way to brush their teeth, turns into a screaming/yelling/hitting/crying fight. </div>
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This is one of those instances where distance definitely makes the heart grow fonder. </div>
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So today, they are off. And not just one of them. Not just two of them. But THREE. Three kiddos in school! </div>
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I don't even know what to do with myself. </div>
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Even with the addition of Baby #5, I'm still going to have more kids in school than out of it. What!!! I've been a parent for almost ten years and this is the first time ever that this has happened. </div>
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I had major plans for this year. Like BIG plans. This was the year that I was going to get organized. And ahead of schedule. Deadlines were going to be something I laughed at, knowing I could be months ahead of them. </div>
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And then I went ahead and got knocked up. </div>
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<br />So goodbye big plans. Farewell organized life!</div>
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I'm slowly coming to terms with another infant in the house. And by slowly, I mean... s-l-o-w-l-y. Even knowing this baby will be different because I have four other kids NOT in diapers and NOT in cribs and highchairs and onesies, it will still be an adjustment for us. </div>
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One that is made only slightly easier by having more than half of them in school.</div>
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I panicked last night at supper when I looked at my five-year-old, soon to be kindergartner and realized I had not prepared him for this school year AT ALL! </div>
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I said, "Stryker, do you even realize you're going to go to school all day every day? You have to be there as long as your sisters!" </div>
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He shrugged and went back to eating his potatoes. </div>
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Then I panicked about him eating lunch. So I gave him the mandatory lecture on lunch and how it's not just another recess. He shrugged again. "I'll eat," he promised. </div>
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Then I panicked about him using the restroom. He got another fast lecture on privacy and hygiene. </div>
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I'm pretty sure he can't wait to go to school just to get away from his hysterical mother. </div>
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And I'm pretty sure the rest of the family can't wait either, because then at least mom will stop talking about bathroom etiquette at the dinner table.</div>
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The thing is, my firstborn was <b>so</b> prepared. I even did a practice timed lunch with her just so she could see what it would be like. And my second child was just ready for school. She knew what to expect and couldn't wait to get there. </div>
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Stryker is an entirely different story. Plus, he's a boy. I feel like I'm starting all over as a parent. </div>
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My advice for him is drastically different than what I gave the girls.</div>
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"Just because you make friends at school, does not mean you can punch them. Or wrestle with them. Or see what the tallest thing they can jump off of is." </div>
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"You don't have to play with girls. You just have to be nice to them."</div>
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"You have to listen to your teacher. You have to. This one isn't up for debate." </div>
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"No tackle hugging your sisters if you happen to see them during the day." </div>
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"Don't talk about butts."</div>
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<br />"Or burps."</div>
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<br />"Or farts." </div>
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"Or diarrhea." </div>
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"And please, for the love, save your ninja moves for home!"</div>
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Don't even get me started on his handwriting. The kid is super smart. Maybe the smartest out of the bunch. But his interest in being able to write his own name is less than zero. </div>
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He is all boy. </div>
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There is no argument there. </div>
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I'm sure he'll do fine. Worrying is saved for mothers. Our kids hardly realize there is anything to worry about! I'm just excited to get them to school and see what this year brings. </div>
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I love how they mature away from me. How they turn into these little people with personalities that define them. I love the friends they make. And even the challenges they go through. </div>
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School is one of my favorite activities ever. (really!) So I love sending them off with their brand new lunch boxes and school supplies in tow. </div>
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It's going to be a fabulous year. Even if it's hard. </div>
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<br />Even if we're adding another tiny human to this chaos midway through. </div>
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And now I can get back to this 80's novella I'm writing. And Love and Decay! And my next adult contemporary romance! </div>
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So many things to do. And now I'll actually have days to get stuff done!</div>
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Rachelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17973308145047978707noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8713760887182467034.post-26065060075265245572016-08-03T08:30:00.000-05:002016-08-03T08:30:29.323-05:00Eleven.My eleven year wedding anniversary is this Friday.<br />
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It's hard to believe! Honestly, when I think back to our wedding day and how young and unprepared for the world we really were... it amazes me that we've made it this far.<br />
<br />
Zach and I had been dating for four years before we got married. Which sounds like a long enough time to know what you're getting into, but we started dating at 17. So on our wedding day, when we'd reached the ripe old age of 21, we weren't quite the seasoned relationship experts I thought we were.<br />
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Even if <i>we</i> thought we had it all figured out.<br />
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I'm embarrassed of how wrong we were!<br />
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I hadn't even graduated college yet and my part time job as a nanny was hardly anything to prepare me for the real world. Or so I thought. Five kids later and I thank God every day for those big families I got to be a part of.<br />
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When you've babysat seven kids under six years old, (One adopted, a set of triplets, a set of twins and then one lone wolf in the middle) your own children, none of which are multiples, are much less intimidating.<br />
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Anyway, back to Zach. We were so young and so in love that it didn't seem to matter that neither of us had ever had to pay bills on our own, or knew how to cook, or realized things like health insurance and car insurance were actual life necessities.<br />
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Lessons learned, you guys. The absolute hard way.<br />
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And life was never easy on our fragile little marriage. Our honeymoon phase faded away when tragedy struck four months into our marriage. We were married in August, but by the middle of December my dad's cancer had returned with a vengeance. Our first Christmas together as a married couple was spent in the hospital at my dad's side as we watched him slip away. We got through the actual 25th, but the very day after my dad met Jesus first thing in the morning.<br />
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There is nothing quite like grief to rub away the soft spots and expose all the rough edges and sharp corners of life.<br />
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Zach and I got to the depths of marriage quickly in that time. There was no slow decent into real life. We plunged. Sky-dived. Parachuted from a jet plane.<br />
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But I don't know what I would have done without Zach. I don't think I would have survived. He was my lifeboat when life became a tumultuous storm and I felt lost at sea.<br />
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Five months later I had graduated college. Something I was so proud of. A moment I had been counting down to my whole life. Because it was at this point I knew my life could finally start. It seems silly now. But even as a child, I didn't look forward to a settled life with a gaggle of kids and a pretty house in the suburbs. I wanted a career. The kind that was featured on magazine covers and made into movies. I had massive aspirations for my life and I had this perception that in order to reach all of my goals and dreams I had to graduate college first.<br />
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So by the time I walked down that graduation aisle, Zach and I had a pretty amazing plan for the future.<br />
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A week after that, to the day, I found out I was pregnant.<br />
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Surprise!!!<br />
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We hadn't even been married a year yet.<br />
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And now my husband was faced with a pregnant, still grieving wife whose entire future was very suddenly ripped away from her.<br />
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The internship I had taken on eventually fired me when they realized I couldn't spend the three months in Africa that was the whole point of the job- not with a newborn to take care of. My step-by-step plan to getting Zach and I into a disaster relief program that would send us all over the world to the poorest countries and most distraught areas crumbled piece by piece. And we were left without a contingency plan, without a solution and in charge of a child that we had no idea what to do with.<br />
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God is so funny like that. With His plans that are greater than ours. With His vision that sees so much farther down the road than we could ever hope to see.<br />
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Obviously, the baby worked out. Stella Victoria was born in February, just eighteen months after we said, "I do." And so began our lives as parents.<br />
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Five kids later, it should be noted that we planned ONE of those kiddos. Just one. Four of them have been absolute surprises that send us back on that spiraling whirlwind of happiness, panic and disbelief.<br />
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This latest pregnancy by the way, was not the one that we planned. <br />
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I couldn't have done any of this. I can't imagine enjoying the last eleven years, let alone surviving them, without Zach.<br />
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He has been my rock, my best friend, the person that makes me laugh the most and feel the most and love the most. He has held my hand through all of the bad times, all of the good times and all of the times in between. He has comforted me when I've failed. And cheered for me when I've succeeded. He is the one that convinced me to self-publish. And then to keep publishing every book after. He has been logic when I have been panic. And hope when I have been nothing but despair. He is my exact opposite and my exact other half. He is the great love of my life.<br />
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And I am so grateful for these past years together. I cannot wait for what the future holds for us. Even if it's scary, even if it's mysterious and unplanned and crazy. At least I'll have him.<br />
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Just for fun, I thought I would write down some of the things I've learned over the years. Marriage isn't easy, but it's worth it. It's so worth it.<br />
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You can't enjoy one of the best things on the planet, unless you struggle a little... unless you understand the worst things in life. (Or some of them.) Our marriage isn't perfect by any means, but it's beautiful and it's ours and I hope that some of the things I've learned on our journey can help you on yours.<br />
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<b>1. Start out poor.</b><br />
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Or at least a little poor. Especially if you're young! There is nothing wrong with not having anything. In fact, I could write an entire book on the richness of life lessons when you don't have everything you want or need. But I'll try to keep it short for this post. You learn to enjoy each other because you don't have money to enjoy anything else. You learn to cook at home, together, because you can't afford to eat out. You learn how many different kinds of meals eggs can make and exactly how far the bottom fourth of your gas tank can go. You learn to laugh at your circumstances and rejoice when there's a little extra. You learn that happiness is not tied up in the perfect house or perfect wardrobe or perfect car. It's more important to be happy than keep up with society. And it's more important to give to your spouse than take for yourself. Target makes great towels and bedding and clothes. And Wal-mart can help you make it to the end of the month before the money runs out. You get lost together searching for furniture at Goodwill and both of you appreciate the significance of hard work and an honest pay check. Poor is not bad. Poor is not even something to be embarrassed about. Poor builds character and a foundation that you can use to build a marriage on. Money is just a thing that doesn't last and only makes you want more. Poor is a gift.<br />
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<b>2. Make time for each other. </b><br />
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Go to bed together. Get up together. Set aside a date night every week- even if it's just a late dinner together after you tuck the kids into bed. Talk to each other. Look at each other. Turn the TV off, put the cell phone down and give the person you love most in life your undivided attention.<br />
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<b>3. Spend time apart. </b><br />
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Let him hang out with the guys! Go out for a girls night and drink too many cocktails! Put up with all the rowdy men in your house and let him host the poker night. And do the same for you. Have Bunko or book club or whatever it is that you're into and let him handle your cackling friends. I always appreciate Zach even more after we've spent time apart. I love hanging out with the girls or going on trips or even spending time alone, but there is nothing like coming home to him. There is nothing like laughing my head off with the women I love and then stepping into the calm, soothing embrace of my husband. Time apart makes time together that much sweeter.<br />
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<b>4. Get physical! </b><br />
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Yeah, that's right. Sex people. It's what drew you together in the first place. It's part of what kept you together. You have great chemistry!!! Remind each other of that. Often.<br />
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<b>5. Appreciate each other. </b><br />
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It's so easy to start ticking off all the things YOU do around the house or for the marriage. I think this is one of the absolute easiest and worst traps married couples fall into. Your spouse forgets to take the trash out or move the laundry or pay a bill and all you can do is simmer in the self-righteous soup of what YOU do around the house and how hard YOU work and all the sacrifices YOU make. But, you guys, I'm going to be really honest with you and say, those are lies. You are not the martyr of your marriage. You are a partner. And if you do more? Good for you, but do more out of love. Because you want to. Because you love your spouse more than yourself and want them to have a comfortable, safe life that they are absolutely happy in. But always, always, appreciate what they do for YOU. Don't dwell on the times when they missed the mark. Remember the moments they came through for you. Remember all the times they put you first and sacrificed for you and put you before them. Because then it doesn't feel like you do more work. Then it feels like you get to love more.<br />
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<b>6. Laugh. All the time.</b><br />
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Life is hard on its best days. And then there are those times when it just plain sucks. Laugh together. Laugh because you're hilarious. Laugh because he's hilarious. Laugh because you're happy and content and because you don't care how hard life is, you can conquer anything together.<br />
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<b>7. Fight. </b><br />
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Maybe not all the time. But fight with each other. Stand up for yourself and let him stand up for what he wants too. Lose your temper on small levels so you don't let it build up inside of you for years. That kind of explosion will take your entire head off. And you need your head. Say what you want and need and feel. But listen too. Emotions are not reality. What you feel doesn't always equal truth. But don't bottle it up. Don't build resentment and bitterness and hurt. Don't let the other person become someone you hate just because you're too afraid to say what you think. It sucks to fight. I get it. I hate it. But think on these two things. Authentic relationships hurt. People bump into each other. Different backgrounds and expectations and life just get in the way of perfect communion. Being close to your husband gives him the power to hurt you. Hopefully he doesn't abuse that power, but when conflict breaks out, take the time to work through it and become stronger because of it. The second thing, is that we can't recognize the best times unless we've experienced the worst times. If you've never fought with your husband, how can you feel the sweetness in those moments that you aren't fighting? How can you feel the relief and overwhelming forgiveness after you've worked everything out? Don't be afraid of conflict. But always be respectful. Always speak out of love and devotion. And always get to the end. No matter what it takes or how long it takes, don't start something you're not willing to resolve- even at the cost of your own pride.<br />
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<b>8. Plan together. </b><br />
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I'm a big goal setter. I love check lists and five year plans and thinking about the future. My husband is not so much like this. He could honestly care less about trying to predict where we'll be in five years. But setting goals together helps us align our expectations. Having meaningful conversations about where we both want to go and what we both want out of life, gives us a cheerleader and an accountability partner. And more than that, it gives us a unified vision of our future. It still might be unknown and mysterious, but it is bright and beautiful and we're headed there together.<br />
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<b>9. Give up control. </b><br />
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I'm a task-oriented person. To a fault. When I get into something, I put my head down and work as hard as I can until that job is finished. I almost become blind to everything outside of the task because I'm so determined to finish. But I've learned over the years that there are more important things than finishing the dishes or the project I'm working on or the laundry. It's more valuable to me to spend a few hours with my husband(or kids) than whatever temporary task I've set as a priority. I'm more satisfied, content and filled when I've connected with Zach than finished laundry and a perfect house will ever make me. And the same is true with my work. I could make a lot more money if I'd only write books faster. But Zach is more important than money. My marriage is more important than deadlines and sales and trends. Not that I abuse this... There are plenty of nights where I'm typing furiously on my laptop while Zach watches a movie on his own or plays video games to his content. But there are also nights when I'm swamped and he says, "Hey, I got a sitter, let's go grab a beer," that I abandon productivity altogether and choose my husband over everything else.<br />
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<b>10. Protect your marriage. </b><br />
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Girls, I get it. We have each other for a reason- and one of the reasons is to share our struggles, heartache and drama with your friends. But your husband comes first. Don't say things that paint him in a bad light. Don't dish about your sex life and marital problems and issues. Protect your husband. And your marriage. Put them first, above everything else in your life and let him feel that respect. Let him know that you respect him above everything else. The truth is, no matter how much you love your BFF, she is not in your marriage, she does not know your husband like you do, she cannot possibly offer a solution to something she is only seeing a small, biased piece of. Let me be clear, there are places and people to go to if you are in danger, being abused or need counseling. And you will need your closest friends in those instances. But in typical marriages, I encourage you to go to your husband instead of your friends. Other people don't need to think you have the perfect marriage, because let's be honest, that just doesn't exist. But, they don't ever need to know all the dirty details either.<br />
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<b>11. Love and Respect. </b><br />
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I am a total believer that knowledge is power. Zach is the same way, so throughout our marriage, we've taken the time to go to whatever marital classes/seminars/studies we can find. We just strongly believe that we do not have everything figured out. We will never have everything figured out. So the more tools we can have in our toolbox, the more prepared we are for when challenges arise. We're not attending these classes because we have a broken marriage, but instead because we are broken people trying to have a healthy marriage. The more time we dedicate to learning how to communicate and how to battle the disease of expectations and how to love beyond ourselves and on and on and on, the better we are, the more capable and prepared for this journey of life we're on. One of the most recent studies we did is called Love and Respect by Emmerson Eggerichs. It changed my life. And my entire way of thinking. The premise is that men need respect and women need love. You can tell a man you love him a million times and it will not come close to hitting him in the chest like when you tell him, "I respect you." That's what men thrive on. That's what men need to feel fulfilled and confident and complete. On the other hand, a woman needs to be loved. It's awesome when a husband respects his wife, but her real life blood is in his love for her. She needs to be cherished and adored and absolutely, unconditionally loved. This book is absolutely amazing and relatable and easy to read. Zach and I struggled to speak through this new language, but once we figured it out, our marriage became something I didn't know existed... something so intensely beautiful it's blinding. Men, love your wives. And women, respect your husbands. Show them respect. Speak respect to them. Live out a life that is filled with respect and reverence for this man that loves you so much. And in return, he will show you just how deeply he can love you.<br />
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<br />Rachelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17973308145047978707noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8713760887182467034.post-49554974129956489782016-07-06T13:36:00.002-05:002016-07-06T13:36:35.197-05:00Too Pregnant to Function<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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It's been a little while since I made it over to the blog! Life has been more than crazy around here. Chasing after four kids during summer break while I struggle through my fifth pregnancy has left me a little... exhausted!<br />
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Not that I'm complaining. I'm not. Really. Even if my husband tells you differently. (ha!) But, I am trying very hard to find some kind of balance in the midst all of this chaos.<br />
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And here's what I've discovered about balance. It's a myth. My white unicorn. An urban legend that well-intentioned people whisper to give false hope.<br />
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It's not real.<br />
<br />At least not in my life. We seem to bounce from one fire to the next, putting out the major flames as we go, promising to rush back and extinguish the smaller ones later. Or soon. Or when they explode into major flames and we can't ignore them anymore.<br />
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I have to laugh at myself, because before I found out I was pregnant, my husband accepted an offer to go back to his old job. For over three years, Zach worked from home in an effort to help me manage my career and the house and the children and our busy lives. But, when his old job called with a great offer, we looked forward to next school year.<br />
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Next year, we will have three kids in school full-time and the following year, our youngest will head off to pre-k. Our lives were going to significantly change and I even dared to hope, calm down. I imagined those empty days where I could find a normalized writing schedule. I felt premature relief in nights and weekends that wouldn't be spent cramming as much writing in as possible. I hoped for met deadlines and word counts I could stick to and realistic long-term plans that would organize my different series and highlight my passion projects.<br />
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It all seemed possible. It all seemed within my reach.<br />
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So Zach accepted the offer and went back to work outside of the home.<br />
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Since we haven't made it to next school year yet, the end of this last school year was not easy with my husband suddenly gone five, sometimes six, days of the week. I was overwhelmed with my full-time job as mom and my full-time job as writer. But I had this goal line in sight. I just had to make it to summer when we could at least relax. When we at least didn't have to worry about getting to school on time.<br />
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Zach went back to work in March.<br />
<br />In April, we found out we were pregnant again!<br />
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Shocking does not even begin to cover the spectrum of feelings I had. I not only had to give up my dreams of normalcy and scheduled writing that felt so painfully within my reach, but I had to come to terms with having five kiddos. Five of them.<br />
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FIVE OF THEM!<br />
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Not an easy task.<br />
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All that to say, now that the dust has settled and I've accepted this life-changing surprise, I have to say, this is the most excited I have ever been for a baby. This is really happening and I couldn't be happier!!!<br />
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You guys, I'm having a baby!!!!!! Ah!<br />
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Zach won't be home to help me like he has been in the past, the chaos is only going to get crazier, our lives are not even going to pretend to slow down, my writing schedule will not get organized or consolidated or less pressurized, my house is not going to be perfectly cleaned, my meal plans are not going to get meticulously carried out, my life is not going to get less stressful.<br />
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But, you guys, A BABY!!! A baby that my kiddos cannot wait to meet. And my husband cannot wait to hold. A baby that will fill this family with an impossible amount of blessings and love and sweetness.<br />
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A baby that only adds to my joy and expands my heart and makes me smile every time my hands land on my already-rounded belly. (This is the fifth kid after all. I didn't stand a chance.)<br />
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My writing career has definitely suffered. I'm ten entire years older than I was with my first pregnancy. I was sicker than I ever have been those first few months. I'm more exhausted than I knew was humanly possible. I am ditzy and cranky and obnoxiously emotional.<br />
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I feel insane because I cry so often. I just start crying and I don't even know why! I'm too pregnant to function and I still have five more months to go!<br />
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But this is my life. And why I ever thought I could change it, I don't know!<br />
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Years ago, I adopted the verse Proverbs 16:9 as my life motto: Man plans his paths, but God directs his steps.<br />
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How relevant, right?<br />
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But with this baby, I needed something stronger, something soul deep and sustaining.<br />
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I found Exodus 14:14 recently and it's what I'm keeping close to my chest, the verse I'm etching into my heart and tattooing on my soul. <br /><br />"The Lord will fight for you; you need only to be still."<br />
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So that's what I'm doing, you guys. I'm resting. I'm being still. I'm trusting in a God who has directed my paths every step of the way and only ever led me to beautiful, life-filled places that give me rich joy and deep fulfillment. (Even if they're also hard places. Even if they're also not without struggle and pain.)<br />
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My writing has suffered. And I apologize for that. I'm in survival mode and I'm treating each word I write with care and consideration.<br />
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My brain does not feel like my own and I just want to make sure that what I'm giving you sounds like me and not the alien that's overtaken my body with this pregnancy. So everything I do is slow... slower than I'm used to... slower than I can stand.<br />
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I also have a secret project that I have kept very secret until, well, until right now. I can't give you any details of course, because I'm a cruel, unfeeling human. But I hope to have something for you soon! Or soonish.<br />
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Anyway, it's taken up a lot more of my time than I planned for. I am working hard to finish it so I can dive into L&D with all my heart and finish out this season with a bang.<br />
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But, I want you to know, L&D: Revolution is NEXT. As in next week next. My top priority now that Bet on Me is published is Love and Decay.<br />
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The good news for you is that I have had a lot of time to think and plan the last part of this season and I am beyond excited to write all these ideas down and turn them into a coherent story. You guys. It's going to get INSANE.<br />
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I cannot wait!!!!!<br />
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After Love and Decay, I will be writing my next adult contemporary called, The Opposite of You. I haven't published an adult contemporary romance since last September. And as I try to make my way into this new-ish genre for me, it's important I release books regularly.<br />
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The other reason this book will be next is because I cannot wait to write it. I have the blurb finished and just the blurb is one of my most favorite things I've ever written. I keep scrawling notes and ideas and adding to my outline for this book every single day because I honestly can't stop. I am so passionate about this book that it just fills my head and my fingers and makes me fall in love with writing all over again.<br />
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I can't wait to give it to you.<br />
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And I really can't wait to give you more info about it and introduce you to the characters!<br />
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After The Opposite of You, I'm going to be focusing on Heir of Empyrial Fire, the fourth Starbright book.<br />
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Another book, I'm dying to write.<br />
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My writing schedule is so exciting. Truly! I don't know if you're all excited for these books or if you couldn't care less... Lol! But for me, and this job that I love so much, I have an amazing schedule ahead of me.<br />
<br />I just have to fight for every inch of time I get to spend with it.<br />
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That's where I'm at. Fighting for moments to write and focus. Fighting for quiet time to spend in concentrated thought. Struggling to get words on a page and wade through the chaos, confusion and even fear that defines my life right now.<br />
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I've hired help over the summer and I still have to battle for time to spend on the writing I want to get to. Isn't life crazy like that?<br />
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I'm not sure what the fall is going to look like for me. We haven't decided yet, how we'll approach the school year now that we have a little one coming in December. And I honestly can't predict how I'll feel, especially once I get into that third trimester.<br />
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What I would really like to happen is to finish L&D: Revolution, The Opposite of You and Heir of Empyrial Fire this year and then figure out 2017 after the baby comes and we figure out what life will look like a little better.<br />
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So, since that is what I want to happen, I can almost guarantee that it won't happen like that. (Ha!) But I just wanted to give you a head's up with where I'm at and how I'm approaching this new and exciting and scary and stressful and fun and fantastic time in our lives.<br />
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The good news is that after the three year wait, BET ON ME is finally LIVE!!!!!! Have you read it yet?!?!? What do you think? What are you waiting for if you haven't?!?!?! You need it in your life.<br />
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Just trust me. You do.<br />
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Thanks for being so awesome with me. I love you guys. Daily you confirm that you are the best, most gracious readers on the planet. You make this all worth it and I am so grateful for your encouragement, support and forgiveness.<br />
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Rachelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17973308145047978707noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8713760887182467034.post-81677919892081225192016-03-30T13:26:00.002-05:002016-03-30T13:26:31.436-05:00Lazarus Lake on Life LessonsThere is this documentary on Netflix right now. I've watched it three times in the last two weeks.<br />
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I'm fascinated.<br />
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I'm enthralled.<br />
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I cannot get enough.<br />
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The documentary tells the tale of the Barkley Marathons. The ultimate of ultra races.<br />
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Our good friend Nate, who's an ultra runner himself, told us about it and bet my husband a six pack of beer that we would love it.<br />
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So, Zach, convinced he was about to win an easy six pack, turned it on one night without any expectations.<br />
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Two minutes in, we were hooked.<br />
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Maybe it was even faster than that.<br />
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Basically, the whole point of this race is to complete 100 miles in 60 hours. (Although in the documentary, they tell you its' actually the length of 5 full marathons.)<br />
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And it's not just any 100 miles. It's 100 miles of trail and off road wilderness. It takes place in the Smokey Mountains of Tennessee and the runners fight 120,000 feet total of elevation changes.<br />
<br />The race happens in 5 loops of 20(or 26.2) miles at a time. Between each loop, the runner is allowed to go back to camp and eat or sleep if they think they have time or change their wet socks or do whatever it is they need to do.<br />
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They run through rivers and up hills with nearly 90 degree angles. They run across cliffs and under a federal prison. They run through malicious brambles that slice their legs to all hell. They run in any kind of weather and through rain and snow and heat and nighttime and daytime.<br />
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I mean, this is humanity at its worst.<br />
<br />And finest.<br />
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I am captivated by the tenacity of these people. The sheer resolve and strength of dedication. At the time of the documentary, the race had been going on for 30+ years and only ten people had finished.<br />
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Most people drop out by the second loop.<br />
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Completing the third loop is a feat in itself and referred to as a Fun Run.<br />
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Finishing all five loops puts the runner in an elite class of fitness, stamina and willpower.<br />
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I'm going to be honest with you. I'm not a runner.<br />
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I will never be a runner.<br />
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I don't even want to be a runner.<br />
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I was an athlete in high school and even played a year of college basketball. But then I had four kids and my boobs are everywhere and I am just DONE with running.<br />
<br />Yoga is my jam. Maybe zumba.<br />
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But never running.<br />
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And yet, I can watch these runners push themselves past their limits, into a place of pain and self-inflicted torture that they have never been before and I am moved.<br />
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In the documentary, one of the runners makes the comment that we(Americans/Humans/Whatever) rarely willingly let ourselves experience physical pain.<br />
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His point is that, pain doesn't kill you. Pain isn't necessarily bad for you. There is teaching and experience and character in pain that we often miss because we're so afraid of it. Because if it's hard, we don't want to do it. Because if it could hurt us, we immediately associate it with being bad for us.<br />
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Lazarus Lake, one of the founders and the kind of human you think can't possibly be real, says that the majority of Barkley Marathon applicants are grad and post grad educated. He makes the supposition that they are drawn to the race for the possibility of failure. That because they are so successful and smart and advanced in their fields, they want to try something that has a large percentage of failure so that they can truly push themselves.<br />
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And can't we apply the avoidance-of-pain philosophy to failure as well?<br />
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How afraid are we of failure? How crippled are we by the very prospect of failing? If we know there's a chance we won't succeed, do we even try?<br />
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Can we even make ourselves start?<br />
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I watch this documentary and I can't help but apply it to all of life. I can't help but see the bigger picture here. The race that isn't the Barkley Marathons, but rather, the race of life.<br />
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Because even though not many of us can run five trail marathons in less than sixty hours, we still have to fight our way through this battle of life and living and humanity.<br />
<br />We still have to endure this world.<br />
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We still have to cross the finish line of our life. And some of us might race across with arms held high in victory. But, I think, the majority of us are stumbling across... dehydrated, starving, beaten up and barely sane.<br />
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Please understand that I know that life is hard without adding to it. We lose loved ones. We lose our hearts because of loved ones. Sickness and death and pain and suffering happen all of the time.<br />
<br />Every damn day.<br />
<br />So why am I suggesting we heap more on???<br />
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Because I'm not talking about those things. You guys, I look at what ISIS is doing in this world and North Korea and Libya and all of the evil, cruel, hateful men and women that exist among us and my heart <b>hurts.</b> I weep for those victims.<br />
<br />
I ache for a better world where we don't judge each other and hate each other and hurt each other and kill each other.<br />
<br />
But in the reality of our personal lives, there is a reason for pain and failure. There is a season for it.<br />
<br />
And it's not a bad thing.<br />
<br />
In fact, I think it's one of the best things that can happen to us.<br />
<br />
Our culture is bent on never speaking to each other face to face. Our society is face-in-phone-text-to-speak-the-perception-of-social-media-is-reality sick.<br />
<br />
We're infected with it.<br />
<br />
We see perfect lives on Facebook and believe they're real.<br />
<br />
We infer tone and meaning and hidden meaning to texts and assume other people hate us.<br />
<br />
We never look up at dinner to see our hurting friends or our loving husbands or our watchful children.<br />
<br />
We don't let people get close because... what if they hurt us? What if they destroy us?<br />
<br />
What if they don't like us?<br />
<br />
What if they see who I really am and judge me?<br />
<br />
We don't follow our dreams because... what if we fail? Or get rejected?<br />
<br />
Or make a fool of ourselves.<br />
<br />
We don't engage in real life because our unreal lives online hide our faults and our problems and our pain.<br />
<br />
But it also hides our value.<br />
<br />
And our depth.<br />
<br />
And all of those real life things that make us who we are. That make us beautiful and endless and human.<br />
<br />
Pain and failure suck.<br />
<br />
I know it.<br />
<br />
I've had my fair share of both.<br />
<br />
But as I look back at my life, it's hard for me to regret any of it. It's hard for me to think those experiences were wasted... that they were anything but necessary and needed and good.<br />
<br />
Failure is my friend now. I say often, that before I do anything right, I do it wrong first. I'm not exaggerating either.<br />
<br />
I've made more mistakes than I can count. And sometimes the shame creeps up on my face and into my heart and I want nothing more than to hide under my covers until Jesus comes back.<br />
<br />
I've been hurt just as many times. By friendships. By family. By people I trusted.<br />
<br />
For me, failure is easier to bounce back from. I can face failure easier because I know that there is life after it. It's happened so often and eventually yielded such positive outcomes that I know I'll be okay.<br />
<br />
But relationships, especially friendships, are harder for me. I'm afraid to get too close to people. I don't open up because I just don't. Unless I'm typing it out, I'm not a sharer. I'm a loner and proud of it.<br />
<br />
I am happy to be by myself.<br />
<br />
Except for this lesson I keep having to face. Real friendship hurts because those friends are close enough to have the power to hurt you.<br />
<br />
That isn't a bad thing!<br />
<br />
That's a really good thing. To be in life so deep with someone that they can cause you pain means that you've let them into your life. You've opened up your heart and invited them in.<br />
<br />
Pain and hurt are not the end all. Just because someone hurts you doesn't mean that relationship is over.<br />
<br />
The best things in life take work.<b> Hard work</b>. And I'm coming to this conclusion that the best relationships in life also take work.<br />
<br />
<i><b>Hard work. </b></i><br />
<br />
If the Barkley Marathons are my analogy for life, then those five loops are going to demand every ounce of blood, sweat and tears we have in us.<br />
<br />
I'm not saying that a relationship should be abusive. There is a difference between healthy friendship that oversteps and a cruel person that inflicts pain because of their own sickness.<br />
<br />
But there is a level of truth we try to avoid. Truth we don't want to hear. Truth we want to ignore. Truth that is too real and too honest and too... painful.<br />
<br />
The thing about it is... we get to decide.<br />
<br />We can choose never to start the race.<br />
<br />
We can decide we don't want the hassle. We don't want the consequences. Our ankles hurt. Our backs hurt. We're tired. We're not cut out for this.<br />
<br />
Or we can decide that we're not in this for one loop. Or two loops. We're not trying to get through the Fun Run.<br />
<br />We're trying to win the race.<br />
<br />
We're going to focus our mind on the finish line. We're going to face the inclement weather. The dark nights. And the hot days. We're going to <i>strive</i>. We're going to <b>press on</b>. We're going to fail and fail and fail and decide to keep going anyway. We're going to hurt and ache and cry and collapse at times... but we're going to get back up. And we're going to keep going. And we are never ever going to stop.<br />
<br />
We might run at times.<br />
<br />
We might walk at others.<br />
<br />
There will be times where we are on our knees, barely crawling forward, our hands curled in the dirt and our knees scraped and bloody, and it doesn't even seem like we're making progress.<br />
<br />
But dear friends, success is in the effort. Victory is in the inch-by-slow-inch push forward.<br />
<br />
Life is in the fibers of this race.<br />
<br />
Don't be a spectator. Don't be a fan. Don't you dare be a critic.<br />
<br />
Run the race.<br />
<br />
Live your life.<br />
<br />
Be real with each other. Get into each other's lives and get messy. Get dirty. Get exhausted. But don't just watch it happen to other people and sit at home afraid of failure. Afraid of pain.<br />
<br />Afraid of authentic life that demands so much.<br />
<br />
But gives back even more.<br />
<br />
And it might be that you open up and dive in deep and there is no pain or failure. There's nothing but broken people loving broken people and struggling through this race side by side.<br />
<br />
But don't let the fear of failure keep you from figuring it out. Don't let the fear of pain stop you from trying.<br />
<br />Because either way... there will be <i>joy</i>.<br />
<br />
Either way their will <b>life at its fullest</b>.<br />
<br />
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Rachelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17973308145047978707noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8713760887182467034.post-78401650223226831722016-03-16T08:30:00.000-05:002016-03-16T08:30:04.711-05:00Big Talk. I have this life philosophy to give up on small talk.<br />
<br />
To quit it.<br />
<br />
To pretend like it doesn't even exist.<br />
<br />
Sure, it's a normal part of any civilized society, but I hate it.<br />
<br />
I loathe it. So much.<br />
<br />
It's awkward. It's forced. It's not genuine. And worst of all... it's not real.<br />
<br />
I like to be real.<br />
<br />
And I have this major issue with not being honest. Most of the time I'm too honest. It's like a disease. I just vomit all the thoughts and feelings and truth like someone is exorcising me.<br />
<br />
Not even kidding.<br />
<br />
But, like I said, even though I hate it, sometimes it's necessary.<br />
<br />
When I'm standing in the grocery line, I can't exactly get into the deep, personal pain that the cashier's currently going through. I can't open up to my bank teller about the struggles I'm having and expect her to reciprocate. I can't even demand it of some of my friends.<br />
<br />
Some people are more comfortable with gentle small talk, than the harsh, abrasive, soul-pouring content of deepness.<br />
<br />
And I respect that.<br />
<br />
I'm probably not going to let you get away with it, but I do respect that you're not as comfortable diving deep as I am.<br />
<br />
I've been thinking about this over the last few weeks because I stumbled upon this meme and it stirred something up inside me.<br />
<br />
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<br />
<br />
Isn't it a good one???<br />
<br />
It's so sweet. So cliche. So... pop-culture-esque.<br />
<br />
Are you hearing the sarcasm....?<br />
<br />
Let's be real for a second, I disagree with this entire sentiment. I wholeheartedly disagree.<br />
<br />
And you guys, I love Morgan Freeman. I think he's a genius in his craft. But on this one thing, I completely and utterly disagree.<br />
<br />
Now, I did discuss this with my husband. And he doesn't disagree with Morgan. He disagrees with me. He says I'm taking it too literally. And I'm not considering the big picture.<br />
<br />
I see his point.<br />
<br />
I still disagree.<br />
<br />
The world is not changed by one random act of kindness at a time. Random kindness is not the answer.<br />
<br />
Random kindness is nothing but... random.<br />
<br />
And besides, is kindness ever random?!?<br />
<br />
I know a little bit about human nature, and I don't think anyone's instinctive reaction to a surprise situation is kindness.<br />
<br />
In fact, human nature kind of demands the opposite. Selfishness. Unwillingness to change. Fear. Prejudice. Reluctance to see need and suffering and anything outside of our own problems and struggles.<br />
<br />
Randomness rarely accomplishes anything but chaos.<br />
<br />
Only instead of a chaos of kindness, which wouldn't be so bad, we are stuck in fizzling determination and a smattering of holes.<br />
<br />
Holes everywhere. Holes where people should step in with kindness. Holes that people should fill with love. Holes that need to get smaller and smaller and smaller until they disappear completely.<br />
<br />
Until we don't have a chaos of kindness, but a blanket of it. Until we have an all-encompassing, far-reaching, non-discriminating, one from every tribe and nation network of kindness.<br />
<br />
The world is not changed by one random act of kindness at a time.<br />
<br />
The world is changed by <b>intentional kindness</b> every moment of every day.<br />
<br />
Intentional kindness that doesn't quit. That doesn't stop. That doesn't get tired or bored or distracted or "hangry."<br />
<br />
Intentional kindness that stays intentional. And with its intention changes lives and hearts and turns them into legacies of more <i><b>intentional kindness</b></i>.<br />
<br />
Please understand that I'm totally <i>not</i> judging that meme. It's a great thought. And it's a sweet thing to say and post and pin. But as I look at my Facebook feed and see vitriol of hate after vitriol of hate... as I look around at this world where ISIS happens and Syria is happening and North Korea and Libya and our country is in this terrifying political turmoil, I just think it's not enough.<br />
<br />
It's not enough to be <i>random</i> with your kindness. You have to be <b><span style="font-size: large;">intentional</span></b> with it.<br />
<br />
It's not enough to be <i>polite and politically correct</i> with your love. You have to be <b><span style="font-size: large;">persistent and determined</span></b> with it.<br />
<br />
It's not enough to be <i>hopeful </i>with your goodness. You have to be <b><span style="font-size: large;">relentless</span></b> with it. You have to never quite. Never slow down. Never <i>ever</i> <b>ever</b> let someone or something stand in your way.<br />
<br />
Most Tuesdays, I work out of the Hy-Vee closest to my kids' school. I get the most work done there because it's only a minute down the road. I don't have to fight other working people for tables with outlets. And I like the people there. I feel like I fit into this misfit group of elderly that hang out there every single day.<br />
<br />
They've accepted me as one of their own. They all stop to chat and tell me about their lives. And they save me my favorite booth.<br />
<br />
Plus, I actually like their wi-fi.<br />
<br />
See? I've found writer's nirvana.<br />
<br />
Anyway, first thing in the morning the tables are filled with groups of older men. Some are there for Bible Study. Some are there waiting on their wives to finish shopping. And some are there to simply have a cup of coffee and some eggs and talk life.<br />
<br />
Here's what I've learned from old men: They have it together.<br />
<br />
At any table, you can hear conversation about all of the major subjects we're supposed to avoid in polite society. They talk money. They talk politics. And they talk religion.<br />
<br />
And you know what???<br />
<br />
Nobody yells. Nobody gets offended. Nobody goes off on long tangents and angry rants and unfollows each other or hides each other or condemns them all to hell.<br />
<br />
And it doesn't matter that they all have different opinions or political loyalties or religious beliefs, because they listen to each other. They laugh with each other. And they respect everyone and everything they say.<br />
<br />
It is the most beautiful thing.<br />
<br />
I feel blessed to get to witness it. And witness it often.<br />
<br />
This is intentional. This doesn't happen naturally. It is not human nature to respect each other or to listen to another opinion and believe it's valid because all people have the right to their own beliefs.<br />
<br />
It's not, I promise you.<br />
<br />
If you don't believe me, I'll let you scroll through my Facebook Newsfeed where you can find all kinds of hate and hate speech.<br />
<br />
(All of which I believe is protected by the Constitution and human equality. All of which I believe these people have a right to.)<br />
<br />
It's just not the point.<br />
<br />
Yes, this country is in a transition. Different parties are desperate to come out the winner and with them their loyal followers.<br />
<br />
But after all of this. After elections and political speeches and polls, there will still be humans out there that need our help. There will still be hurting people and broken lives and things that require our kindness.<br />
<br />
And I don't just mean refugees in other countries. I mean your neighbors. Your friends. Your waitress. That person answering your angry customer service call. Your family and kids and complete and total strangers.<br />
<br />
If I know one thing about humanity, it's that every single person has private pain. This world is too broken for it not to be this way. You're hurting. I'm hurting. Everyone is hurting.<br />
<br />
We've all lost and loved and lost loved ones. We've all been rejected, neglected and forgotten. We've struggled to adult. And to human. And to live.<br />
<br />
I'm not saying every person is depressed and wallowing in grief. But this life we live is hard. This life we live is painful.<br />
<br />
Kindness matters.<br />
<br />
Kindness is our gift.<br />
<br />
Kindness isn't random. Kindness is intentional.<br />
<br />
It has to be. Or we forget about it.<br />
<br />
Or we choose something else.<br />
<br />
I was recently reading a book by Matt Chandler and asked this question: Do the people you come into contact with have a soul?<br />
<br />
Do they?<br />
<br />
The answer is obviously yes. Every human being has a soul.<br />
<br />
But do we treat them as though they do? When your waitress brings your food out, do you stop and notice her soul? When the cashier is checking you out and there is a line of a thousand people behind you and everyone is cranky and tired and frustrated, does she have a soul? Do the people behind you?<br />
<br />
When your cable overcharges you... does the person on the other end of that tiresome phone call, have a soul?<br />
<br />
Does the idiot driver in front of you?<br />
<br />
Does your freshly sworn enemy that believes in a different presidential candidate than you have a soul?<br />
<br />
Yes. The answer is a resounding, echoing, permanent <b>YES!</b><br />
<br />
We all have souls. We all have <b>eternal souls</b>.<br />
<br />
And they need our kindness. Especially them. Whoever <i>them</i> is. They all need it. <br />
<br />
They need our <b><span style="font-size: large;">intentional kindness</span></b>. <br />
<br />
Be aware. Be wide-eyed and respectful. Be intentional.<br />
<br />
And stop with the small talk. We don't have time for it. There is so much <b>better</b> out there. There is so much more worth your time and energy.<br />
<br />
Be real.<br />
<br />
Be open.<br />
<br />
And most of all... be kind. <br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
Rachelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17973308145047978707noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8713760887182467034.post-67133609922111505812016-02-24T08:30:00.000-06:002016-02-24T08:30:13.979-06:00Happy Birthday, Peter PanToday is my birthday.<br />
<br />
And usually I struggle to face this day... I dread the uptick of numbers and flipping over of yet 365 more days.<br />
<br />
It, truly, honestly, wholeheartedly<i> <b>stresses me out</b></i>!<br />
<br />
I can't explain it. I've always been like this. When I turned twenty and officially left my teens, I cried. When I turned thirty and officially left my twenties... I cried again.<br />
<br />
I am <strike>self-diagnosed with one year of psychology major under my belt</strike> the quintessential definition of Peter Pan Complex- the fear of aging.<br />
<br />
Ignoring the fact that I'm an emotional catastrophe, birthdays are hard for me!<br />
<br />
But then I had kids. Specifically I had my first two children, that are both girls. And while I can wax eloquent on how parenting affects aging and how the years fly by and I'm more concerned with their growth and maturity than my own and on and on and on...<br />
<br />
The truth is, their birthdays have adjusted my mentality in a very practical way.<br />
<br />
My birthday is on the 24th- today. My oldest daughter's birthday is on the 20th, four days before and my second daughter's birthday falls on the 27th.<br />
<br />
Not to mention in January my husband and oldest son's birthday are just three days apart. And before that... Well, Christmas.<br />
<br />I call this... Birthday Season.<br />
<br />
It's hectic. And stressful for other reasons than my age. And filled with so many presents and parties and cake- so much freaking cake- that by the time I finally reach my birthday I sometimes completely forget about it.<br />
<br />
In a week with these three birthdays, mine is the least important. My girls deserve celebrations, I pretty much just want a nap.<br />
<br />
Or at least twenty minutes of alone time to brush my teeth and apply some makeup essentials.<br />
<br />
But as it turns out, usually my husband reminds me or my kids or I start getting thoughtful Facebook notifications that remind me it's time to start panicking and freaking out and weeping.<br />
<br />
I have an alarm on my phone set to go off saying, "Commence gnashing of teeth."<br />
<br />
Because aging terrifies me.<br />
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But it has nothing to do with actually getting old. I'm proud of my age. I don't mind sharing it, and for some reason I get asked it a lot. I'm not disappointed in my body or my wrinkles or even my gray hairs. And believe me... there are plenty of them.<br />
<br />
I'm not contemplating plastic surgery or dreading the wear and tear on my joints and bones.<br />
<br />
It has nothing to do with actually aging.<br />
<br />
Instead, my birthday is like this countdown clock of time remaining in my life. Which is silly, right?? I am perfectly happy to admit that this fear is both irrational and ridiculous.<br />
<br />But that doesn't make me less afraid.<br />
<br />
I can also admit that the time left in my life is completely out of my control. Jesus could return tomorrow. I could die tonight. And yet, I hold on to the 60+ years I imagine I have left and worry that they won't be enough.<br />
<br />
That I don't have enough time to accomplish all the things I want to accomplish.<br />
<br />
That I've already wasted 32 precious years on empty pursuits and this better be the year that I get my shit together because I can't go another year without ticking off my list of goals and dreams.<br />
<br />
And what's craziest of all??? I've already crossed off so many.<br />
<br />
My life has been full. I have barely any regrets. I can look back at the vastness of my life and smile and laugh and <b>remember</b>.<br />
<br />
But there's more.<br />
<br />
I want more.<br />
<br />
<i>I want to do more.</i><br />
<br />
<b>I want to be more.</b><br />
<b><br /></b>
I can't help it.<br />
<br />
In fact, the older I get, the bigger my list grows and the more desperate I feel to <i>move mountains</i>. Life is ticking down quickly and I can't seem to fit everything I need to do in my too-short days that fly by faster than I can grab hold of them.<br />
<br />
I want big things from this life. I demand them.<br />
<br />
If you've been reading my blog you know. I can't stop talking about it.<br />
<br />I am thirsty for this life. Greedy for it.<br />
<br />
Lustful even.<br />
<br />
I want God and Jesus and all the things that He's promised. I want my kids and my husband and a career and more than one career. I want my family. And my husband's family. And the branches of our family trees that stretch on and on. I want friends so close they become sisters. I want laughter and joy and peace and hope and prayer. I want to volunteer and give my time and make a difference somewhere to someone. I want to travel. I want to travel everywhere and go everywhere and see everywhere. And I never want to fly unless I'm flying over an ocean because I want to experience every single piece of this country. I want to read. I want to read hundreds of books. All the classics. And all the bestsellers. And all the words that make my heart thump loudly and my pulse race and my eyes strain to stay awake well into the early morning hours. I want to sing and play the piano until my throat hurts and my fingers fail me. I want to teach. I want to listen. I want to speak. I want to cook and bake and drink and do it all with people I love. People that love me.<br />
<br />
I want it all!<br />
<br />
And I have some of it.<br />
<br />
Okay, I have a lot of it.<br />
<br />
But I can't shut this need off. I can't dampen it or slow it down. I can't make it go away.<br />
<br />
And so birthdays come and I look up from the busyness of my life and I panic. With so little time left how can I possibly accomplish it all??? How can I fit all of the things I dream about into my little life?!?!<br />
<br />
How can I do these great big things when I am this disaster of a human being? When I can't even remember to pay all of my bills on time, let alone function in the real world with real people doing real things that make real impacts!<br />
<br />
The truth is... I don't even have voicemail right now. My cellphone updated and it erased my voicemail and for some <strike>stupid insane infuriating</strike> silly reason I have to go TO the store to set it back up again. <br />
<br />
Well, folks. Let me just tell you that I don't have time for that. I really don't. I don't have time to drive out of my way to an inconvenient store to deal with lines and people and waiting and waiting and waiting. I really don't.<br />
<br />
When my husband told me I had to go into the store, I felt this crushing sense of disappointment.<br />
<br />
Because it will never happen. I'll never get around to it or make time for it. And now I'm just one of those people that doesn't have voicemail.<br />
<br />
I am an adult. With children. Without voicemail.<br />
<br />
I mean, seriously!!!<br />
<br />
It should be a priority!<br />
<br />
And yet, I'm this child trapped in an adult-sized body wondering how I got to here and when my parents are going to step back in to fix all of these grownup problems.<br />
<br />Because I certainly can't be held responsible for all of this... mess.<br />
<br />
Only I can be.<br />
<br />
And I am.<br />
<br />
And so my natural response is to freak. the. hell. out.<br />
<br />
Happy birthday becomes Happy-You're-A-Year-Older-And-Still-Failing-At-Life.<br />
<br />
This might seem <strike>bat shit</strike> <b>crazy</b> from the person that just wrote a blog about Figs last week! But it's truth. And real. And I already told you I'm an emotional catastrophe, so just stay with me for a sec.<br />
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Because this is life.<br />
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This is life in all its guts and glory. I really believe it's the human condition to feel the pressure of living a better life.<br />
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We're called to great things, people. We're called to higher purposes and deeper matter.<br />
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Life isn't meant to be wasted. And while I wouldn't suggest my method of yearly panic either. I do hope you feel this drive... this push to do more. <i>See more.</i> <b>Be more.</b><br />
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I hope you respond to it.<br />
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Truthfully, this year has been my calmest birthday. I'm facing today head on, without fear, without hysteria.<br />
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I think I've finally found this sweet spot where maturity has caught up with age. It's not daunting to want what I want out of life. It's exciting.<br />
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It's thrilling.<br />
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It brings hope and commitment to a life lived to the fullest.<br />
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It makes every day worth something... <i>mean</i> something.<br />
<br />The days of this life go fast. And the years manage to go even faster. But life deserves attention. And when I face each day with purpose and intention, then my goals aren't so impossible.<br />
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My dreams aren't quite so distant.<br />
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Besides, even if I never accomplish another thing on my check list, there are so many things to be thankful for.<br />
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My life is filled with blessings. Too many to count.<br />
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Because I choose it to be that way.<br />
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Sure there's heartache and pain and fear and uncertainty and all the other bad things this world can bring. But I'm too old to choose anything but joy.<br />
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I'm too set in my ways to feel anything but God's protection, provision and purpose.<br />
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I'm to wide-eyed to see anything but Him in every single thing.<br />
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I'm not already 32.<br />
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I'm finally 32.<br />
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I'm finally here. I finally made it to this place. To this exact spot in the journey of my life. To this precise moment that God planned uniquely <i><b><u>for me</u></b></i> before the beginning of time.<br />
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To this second of my life where I am meant to be.<br />
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I can feel the tension releasing... the panic slowly ebbing away.<br />
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Because being <b>finally</b> 32, is a whole lot better than being <i>already</i> 32.<br />
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It's going to be a great year.<br />
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Even if it goes by too fast.<br />
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Rachelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17973308145047978707noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8713760887182467034.post-68515617194654503862016-02-17T08:30:00.000-06:002016-02-17T08:30:22.930-06:00Dear Sylvia Plath, I disagree with you.<span style="font-family: inherit;">Recently I was exposed to The Bell Jar by Sylvia Plath. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">I wish I could say that I was brushing up on my list of 100 Books to Read Before I Die or that reading the classics is a habit of mine. But, in truth, I was watching the new Aziz Ansari show on Netflix, <i>Master of None</i>. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Zach and I had been looking for a Netflix show to watch sporadically, which is our way, and stumbled upon Master of None. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">At first we thought it had this <i>Seinfeld</i>/<i>Curb Your Enthusiasm</i> feel to it and we were so. on. board. Since those are two comedic greats in our house. The show even has a minor part for Jon Benjamin- whom we love! But as the show goes on it becomes less hilarious sitcom and more... romantic drama. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">The Season One ends with Aziz/Dev reading a passage from The Bell Jar by Sylvia Plath and making a major decision about his life. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">First, let me say that Sylvia Plath is a genius. That can't be disputed. Her imagery, her word choices, her obscure but painfully realistic thoughts are just... incredible. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">When I read her, she truly takes my breath away. And once upon a time, I could truly relate to her.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">She saw life through the lens of depression and so her words came out raw and real and painful. She is this heartbreaking tragedy that makes me just want to reach through time and hug her. Me, the non-hugger. But as I read about her and researched The Bell Jar, I felt her pain... her misery. She had everything going for her and yet she couldn't see it. She had talent for days and years and eternity and yet that wasn't enough for her. She had life and chose death. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Anyway, so Aziz reads this quote and it, like most other things that Sylvia wrote, made me pause in the busyness of my life and think. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">She says this, </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"> <span style="background-color: white; color: #181818; line-height: 21px;">“I saw my life branching out before me like the green fig tree in the story. From the tip of every branch, like a fat purple fig, a wonderful future beckoned and winked. One fig was a husband and a happy home and children, and another fig was a famous poet and another fig was a brilliant professor, and another fig was Ee Gee, the amazing editor, and another fig was Europe and Africa and South America, and another fig was Constantin and Socrates and Attila and a pack of other lovers with queer names and offbeat professions, and another fig was an Olympic lady crew champion, and beyond and above these figs were many more figs I couldn't quite make out. I saw myself sitting in the crotch of this fig tree, starving to death, just because I couldn't make up my mind which of the figs I would choose. I wanted each and every one of them, but choosing one meant losing all the rest, and, as I sat there, unable to decide, the figs began to wrinkle and go black, and, one by one, they plopped to the ground at my feet.”</span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #181818; line-height: 21px;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="background-color: white; color: #181818; line-height: 21px;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">What a thought!</span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #181818; line-height: 21px;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="background-color: white; color: #181818; line-height: 21px;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">What a <b>FEELING</b>!!!</span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #181818; line-height: 21px;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="color: #181818; font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px;">To think that you had to choose one path and one path alone and that once that path is chosen no other paths can be taken. Once a wife. Always a wife. And once a mother. Only a mother. </span></span><br />
<span style="color: #181818; font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="color: #181818; font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px;">My heart hurts for this woman who committed suicide only one month after this novel, her only novel, was published. </span></span><br />
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<span style="color: #181818; font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px;">The Bell Jar follows Esther Greenwood as she struggles to decide what to do with her life during the beginning stages of a breakdown. She eventually does have a nervous breakdown and spends significant time in a mental institution. The book is applauded for its stance on early feminism in the 50's when feminism wasn't actually a thing yet. The novel is wrapped up in beautiful prose and elegant thoughts and you can't help but relate to the main character because we've all felt like that. We've all wondered if our choices have imprisoned us into this one place. We've felt the consequences of choosing a fig. We've felt the indecision of not being able to choose one. We've felt the aftermath of the shriveled figs drop to the ground around us while we sat there idly, watching the world go by. </span></span><br />
<span style="color: #181818; font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="color: #181818; font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px;">That quote. That <b>idea</b> of life that small and isolated and strict hurts my heart more than anything.</span></span><br />
<span style="color: #181818; font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="color: #181818; font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px;">And after I had thought about it for all of three seconds, I easily decided that Sylvia Plath is wrong. </span></span><br />
<span style="color: #181818; font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="color: #181818;"><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="line-height: 21px;">While she was obviously smarter than me, more talented by leaps and bounds, more lasting, more impacting, more... </span></span><span style="line-height: 21px;">revolutionary</span><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="line-height: 21px;"> than me... I have to say. I disagree with her. </span></span></span></span><br />
<span style="color: #181818; font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="color: #181818; font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px;">Life isn't one path. Or two paths. There is no before and after. Or cataclysmic moment when you're finally clicked into place never to be moved again. </span></span><br />
<span style="color: #181818; font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="color: #181818; font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px;">Life is a journey. An <b>epic journey</b>. With peaks and valleys and twists and turns. There are innumerable beginnings and endings and new beginnings and chapters that close and doors that open and left turns and right turns and mountaintops and ocean bottoms and endless, infinite things. </span></span><br />
<span style="color: #181818; font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="color: #181818; font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px;">When Zach and I watched the <i>Master of None</i> episode, Aziz reads this passage aloud. And Zach turned to me and laughingly asked, "Rachel, which fig did you choose?" </span></span><br />
<span style="color: #181818; font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="color: #181818; font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px;">Because I chose them all. Sylvia and I are different in that I saw a fig tree filled with possibilities and stories and different paths and lives and destinies and I. chose. them. all. </span></span><br />
<span style="color: #181818; font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="color: #181818; font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px;">I didn't look up at the fig tree and feel despair or hopelessness or crippling indecision. I looked up and saw hope and promise and <b>life</b>- in all it's difficult, massive, beautiful glory.</span></span><br />
<span style="color: #181818; font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="color: #181818; font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px;">There is no law that you choose one thing in life and give up on all others. There is no slave master that demands you pick your fate and never deviate. There is not just one thing.</span></span><br />
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<span style="color: #181818; font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px;">There is all the things. </span></span><br />
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<span style="color: #181818; font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px;">And there will always be <b>all the things</b>.</span></span><br />
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<span style="color: #181818; font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px;">When I was growing up I had one dream. And that was to be a journalist. I wanted to travel the world and report on the most dangerous conflicts in the most dangerous areas. That was my dream of dreams. My heart song. The only thing I could imagine for myself.</span></span><br />
<span style="color: #181818; font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="color: #181818; font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px;">I even had an epilogue to my dream imagined- When I retired, I planned to be a syndicated columnist writing from the comfort of my sprawling ranch in the middle of nowhere. The perfect, relaxing ending to a wild, adventurous career.</span></span><br />
<span style="color: #181818; font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="color: #181818; font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px;">But when it was time to go to college, my dad had cancer and I was in love with the man that would one day become my husband. And so I stayed close to home. I put that dream on pause until I was forced to give up on it completely when my college dropped their journalism program the very year I started. </span></span><br />
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<span style="color: #181818; font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px;">No traveling the world for me. </span></span><br />
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<span style="color: #181818; font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px;">No syndicated column. </span></span><br />
<span style="color: #181818; font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="color: #181818; font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px;">No writing.</span></span><br />
<span style="color: #181818; font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="color: #181818; font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px;">Except I didn't let that stop me. I traveled the world with a different degree, a degree I became and still am very passionate about. I traveled all over. I had Europe and South America and Asia. </span></span><br />
<span style="color: #181818; font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="color: #181818; font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px;">And then I got married. And I got to be a wife and a mother. </span></span><br />
<span style="color: #181818; font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="color: #181818; font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px;">And then I started writing books. And now I get to be an author. </span></span><br />
<span style="color: #181818; font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="color: #181818; font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px;">And then I started teaching a Bible Study. And now I get to be a teacher.</span></span><br />
<span style="color: #181818; font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="color: #181818; font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px;">And last week I fulfilled my journalism dream when I had an article published in Momaha.com. </span></span><br />
<span style="color: #181818; font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="color: #181818; font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px;">But that was 14 years after I gave up that dream of dreams. </span></span><br />
<span style="color: #181818; font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="color: #181818; font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px;">I thought about that the other day. About how God had taken my dream and set it aside while he worked all kinds of wonders in my life. He gave me a better life than I had imagined. A more fulfilling one. A safer one. One that's filled with so much love and so much laughter my heart aches with happiness. </span></span><br />
<span style="color: #181818; font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="color: #181818;"><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="line-height: 21px;">I thought about how He brought me back to the original dream and it was so much better than I </span></span><span style="line-height: 21px;">could</span><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="line-height: 21px;"> have imagined it to be. I ended up sitting on my bed crying happy tears because it was just too much for me. </span></span></span></span><br />
<span style="color: #181818; font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="color: #181818; font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px;">That article, those 500 words, weren't worthy of a Pulitzer, they weren't about an African genocide or ISIS terror, I didn't even get paid for them! But they were the fulfillment of a dream that I never imagined would come true. And that means something to me. </span></span><br />
<span style="color: #181818; font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="color: #181818; font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px;">That moves something so deep in my soul I can't even find the right words to describe it. </span></span><br />
<span style="color: #181818; font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="color: #181818; font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px;">Fourteen years ago, I felt like I was sacrificing my dreams for the sake of the people I loved on the alter of martyrdom. It felt like the death of something vital inside of me. </span></span><br />
<span style="color: #181818; font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="color: #181818; font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px;">Even after I had kids, there was this sense of being lost. I couldn't figure out what to do with my life or how my decisions had gotten me to that point. </span></span><br />
<span style="color: #181818; font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="color: #181818; font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px;">But I didn't let that stop me. I found writing. And writing books brought me to myself again. And I had purpose as a wife and a mother and then as a writer. I have purpose now as those things plus more. </span></span><br />
<span style="color: #181818; font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="color: #181818; font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px;">My destiny didn't stop when I became those things. My destiny became more. Each path I took, opened up more paths, each more fulfilling, more purposeful, more exciting than the last. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #181818; font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px;">Life isn't a series of check lists or concrete decisions. Life is fluid and ever-changing. The decisions we make are temporary. The decisions we make lead to more decisions, more action, more purpose... more <b>life</b>. </span></span><br />
<span style="color: #181818; font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="color: #181818; font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px;">Life is not a Fig Tree with fruit that withers and dies. Life is not one choice that determines every step thereafter. </span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #181818; line-height: 21px;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="background-color: white; color: #181818; line-height: 21px;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Life is a labyrinth of fate and God's sovereignty and more and more and more. </span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #181818; line-height: 21px;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="background-color: white; color: #181818; line-height: 21px;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"> We are meant to do more. </span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #181818; line-height: 21px;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="background-color: white; color: #181818; line-height: 21px;"><b><span style="font-family: inherit;">We are meant to be more. </span></b></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #181818; line-height: 21px;"><b><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></b></span>
<span style="color: #181818; font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px;">This is one of my favorite verses from the Bible, because in my youth, while I was stuck in confusion and self-centered despair, God said this... </span></span><br />
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<span style="color: #181818; font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="line-height: 21px;">I'll agree that hindsight is 20/20. I can look back and see how each piece and part of my life wove together to make this breathtaking canvas that reveals a never-ending journey. </span></span></span><br />
<span style="color: #181818; font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="line-height: 21px;"><br /></span></span></span>
<span style="color: #181818; font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="line-height: 21px;">But that gives me hope for the future. I can't fear what's ahead because I know it will be good. And if it's not good, then it can be used for good.</span></span></span><br />
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<span style="color: #181818; font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="line-height: 21px;">I can look forward knowing there are so many more figs to pick. So many more paths to take.</span></span></span><br />
<span style="color: #181818; font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="line-height: 21px;"><br /></span></span></span>
<span style="color: #181818; font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="line-height: 21px;">I can get excited because even if I have no idea what the future will hold, I know it will be an adventure and not the end. </span></span></span><br />
<span style="color: #181818; font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="line-height: 21px;"><br />Never the end. </span></span></span><br />
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<span style="color: #181818; font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px;">Life is not a fig tree. Life is a complex and magnificent journey that goes on and on into eternity.</span></span>Rachelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17973308145047978707noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8713760887182467034.post-82517810559853569642016-02-10T09:30:00.000-06:002016-02-10T09:30:15.486-06:00Soul on FireSo you know that I'm a huge goal setter. I blogged just a little while ago about New Years Resolutions and setting big goals for yourself! And then I even vlogged about it.<br />
<br />
I'm all about it.<br />
<br />
Well, shortly after I blogged and vlogged, Michele G. Miller posted a meme on her Instagram. And you guys, it was like finding a burning bush in the wilderness. Or maybe something less dramatic. But it spoke to me in a serious way.<br />
<br />
You know how you can hear things a million times, but they mean nothing until you're exactly ready to hear them? And then it's like BAM! Epiphany!!<br />
<br />Have you ever had that happen??<br />
<br />
Well, this happened to me with Michele's post. Here it is...<br />
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<br />Even now those words move something inside me! It's such a beautiful sentiment. It demands something from us while at the same time giving something to us, right?<br />
<br />
It's saying, DO SOMETHING!!!! At the same time it's screaming, DO SOMETHING YOU LOVE!!!!<br />
<br />
I need that.<br />
<br />
I need to be reminded of that.<br />
<br />
Sometimes I get so lost in my life and tangled in the clutter that I forget that I'm not called to chaos and confusion. I'm not meant to drown in the busyness of daily monotony or suffer the gray colorlessness of a life without purpose. It's easy to get stuck in my daily to do lists or focus only on the small space of road ahead of me as I taxi my children from one activity to the next.<br />
<br />
But life is supposed to be more than that. Life is supposed to mean something. <i>We</i> are supposed to <b>mean something</b>.<br />
<br />
If you're like me though, you've got a lot going on! I don't have time to get my hair done, let alone figure out how to turn my life into a legacy. It's great to talk about change and doing something meaningful and wishing and hoping and crossing our fingers, but what about action? Or time? Or how much coffee is it going to take to get me into real pants and out of the house???<br />
<br />
Every year I set goals and sometimes I even meet them. And until I read that meme, that was enough for me. I was content to cross things off my practical lists and move forward with an evenly-tempo-ed march. But then the meme changed everything.<br />
<br />I read, <i>do more of what lights your soul on fire</i>, and I was forced to lift my head from the rat race of my life and take note. I couldn't ignore that feeling inside me that said I needed to reevaluate what I'm doing with my time. Is my life filled with things that set me on fire? That fill me up so completely I burst to life and blaze as bright as a star??? <br /><br />Don't get me wrong, I'm not complaining. In fact, I was happy to note that there were large parts of my life that I could say yes to. I love my job. Love love love it. It's my dream job and every day I'm thankful that I have the opportunity to work at it.<br />
<br />
I feel the same way about my family. And about my friends.<br />
<br />
But then I read the meme again. "Do <b>MORE</b> of what lights your soul on fire."<br />
<br />
That makes a difference, doesn't it?<br />
<br />
We can argue that spreading my time too thin will overwhelm me and exhaust me and I don't have the time for it and on and on and on.<br />
<br />
Except that if I really follow this thought train through, then I'm not filling my life with things that will drain me or tire me or wear me down. These things that I'm adding to my life are going to <b>LIGHT ME ON FIRE</b>!<br />
<br />
How cool is that?!?!?! <br /><br />I don't have to be afraid of what's to come because I already know I'm going to choose things I love. I don't have to dread how I'm spending my time, because I already know I'm going to be excited for it and anxious for it and not want it to end.<br />
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And I don't have to complain about it, because I'm going to be exclusive in what I choose, and careful in what I pick.<br />
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That's exciting, right?? I'm adding to my life, not taking away from it.<br />
<br />
So I did a little soul searching. What am I missing? What do I want to do but I'm afraid to try? Where do I want to be in five years? Ten? How do I get there? How do I add value to my life instead of collecting tasks that will take it away?<br />
<br />
Then I found this meme... <br />
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<br />
Similar right?? But more. Be Fearless. <b>Be Fearless in the Pursuit of What Sets your Soul on Fire.</b><br />
<b><br /></b>
Oh, my gosh! It gives me goosebumps!!! I'm the kind of girl that's afraid of everything. I'm afraid of failure and rejection and spiders and the recycled air on airplanes. Fear can cripple me. Fear can ruin everything so quickly.<br />
<br />
And yet, I love that thought. I love the idea of being <b>fearless</b>.<br />
<br />
And so I set out on this journey. I'm blogging more. Because you know what?? I love blogging. I'm going to church more. Because you know what??? Jesus sets my soul on fire. I'm spending more focused time with my kids and my husband and writing a book with a dear friend of mine. I'm blogging for my local newspaper. (You can check out my first article <a href="http://www.omaha.com/momaha/i-had-so-many-babies-for-so-long-i-almost/article_fdebd13e-cc48-11e5-8b1b-6f9724b4c834.html">HERE</a>!!!) I'm teaching a Bible study and looking for speaking opportunities. I'm mentoring aspiring authors and reading more nonfiction.<br /><br />You know what I'm not doing??? I'm not checking my author rankings daily or reading books just to finish them. I'm not worrying about little things that steal my joy and ruin my days. I'm not worrying about where I'll be in five years or ten years. Instead, I'm choosing to enjoy the journey that gets me there. I'm saying no to commitments that don't have my whole heart and activities that drain me of energy. I'm learning to panic less and love more. Freak out less and enjoy more.<br />
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I'm learning to become fearless.<br />
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I'm letting my life set my soul on fire.<br />
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And my hope is that you are already doing this. My hope is that I'm embarrassingly behind the curve with this one. My hope is that your life is filled with fire and fearlessness and things that you love.<br />
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And if not??? Then I hope that changes. And fast.<br />
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Because life is way too short to spend it doing things you hate. You only have one life. But you also only have one soul. It deserves to be set on fire. It's your gift to the world.<br />
<br />
Light it up and let it blaze.<br />
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<br /><br />Rachelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17973308145047978707noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8713760887182467034.post-68716513977593766402016-02-01T09:00:00.000-06:002016-02-01T09:00:17.667-06:00Give It Away Now!Give it away... Give it away... Give it away now.<br />
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I think I've decided the new goal of my blog is to get old songs stuck in your heads!!! For days. Months even. :)<br />
<br />
Just kidding!!!<br />
<br />The truth is, whenever I run a giveaway, that song actually get's stuck in MY head!!! And I'm left to deal with it.<br />
<br />
So now I'm sharing with you, so that I don't have to be alone! Ha!!<br />
<br />
Ahem.<br />
<br />
This blog is actually super exciting and not supposed to be all about my random ramblings. I promise there is a point!<br />
<br />
At least to this one!<br />
<br />
I don't know if you've noticed on my social media outlets, but I've been trying to do more giveaways!! I really, truly, honestly LOVE giveaways. I just love offering you all something you might want or want to share with a friend or just show you how much I appreciate you.<br />
<br />
In the past, I haven't done as many, because... let's be honest, I don't have my life together. In any way. I would always forget to send the prize out or write it down or I'd send it to the wrong person. Or send you the completely wrong gift... I mean, for real, I am just a hot mess all around.<br />
<br />
But over the last year, my kids have gotten just a teency weency bit older. I don't really have a baby anymore. My youngest is three and this month, my oldest will turn nine! I mean, that's HUGE for my family.<br />
<br />
I can't even tell you how huge!<br />
<br />
Just know that the day I stopped having to cut up everybody's pizza into bite size squares, was one of the most momentous days of my life.<br />
<br />
And with that, I'm not even kidding.<br />
<br />
Now if I could only potty train my three-year-old... we might be really getting someplace!<br />
<br />
Anyway.<br />
<br />
I'm a little more on top of these things these days... I mean, don't expect anything to happen exactly "on time." But once I was almost nine months late in sending out signed books.<br />
<br />
Nine months.<br />
<br />
Thankfully my readers are some of the most gracious people on the planet and they were very generous to me.<br />
<br />But seriously...<br />
<br />
The moral of this story??? Be on the lookout for more giveaways!!!!!<br />
<br />
Staring with today! I posted about it last week, but I'm not sure it made sense so I'm going to explain it a little bit!!!<br />
<br />
I'm calling it The Book Trailer Giveaway!!!!!<br />
<br />
And yes, it needs that many exclamation points. Because... the winner of this giveaway will receive ALL SEVEN STAR-CROSSED BOOKS SIGNED!!!!!!!!!!!<br />
<br />
What??<br /><br />I know!!!<br />
<br />
I'm super excited about it!!!!<br />
<br />
All you have to do is come up with a book trailer for the Star-Crossed Series. It doesn't have to be film-school worthy or all that detailed. I am just looking for a short little video that takes up all of two minutes(or less!!) and shares your favorite quotes, favorite music, favorite pictures... favorite WHATEVER about the Star-Crossed Series!!!! Put it together in a trailer and either upload it to YouTube and link me to it OR post it directly to Facebook and I can watch it through there!!! (Although if you put it on YouTube then other people can find it and watch it too!!!)<br />
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I'll choose my favorite and announce the winner March 1st!!!! So basically you have up until the second I announce it to get your entries in!!!!<br />
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You can even make more than one video and give yourself more chances to win!!!!<br />
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I know this is super daunting for some of you, but have no fear!! There are actually super simple websites that make the trailer-making-process user friendly and fun!!!<br />
<br />I'm going to give you three. Feel free to check them out or work your own magic! (PS, Animoto is my fave!!!)<br /><br />Animoto: <a href="https://animoto.com/k/video-slideshow?utm_source=google&utm_medium=cpc&utm_campaign=GENERAL---Animoto-Brand---CON-T1&utm_term=animoto&utm_content=Brand&ef_id=UrPGLwAAAAt@3Qbd:20160201051504:s">https://animoto.com/k/video-slideshow?utm_source=google&utm_medium=cpc&utm_campaign=GENERAL---Animoto-Brand---CON-T1&utm_term=animoto&utm_content=Brand&ef_id=UrPGLwAAAAt@3Qbd:20160201051504:s</a><br />
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Prezi: <a href="https://prezi.com/business/">https://prezi.com/business/</a><br />
<br />PhotoShow: <a href="http://www.photoshow.com/home/start">http://www.photoshow.com/home/start</a><br />
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So there you have it!!! Just make something showing your love for the Star-Crossed Series and you could win signed paperbacks of Reckless Magic, Hopeless Magic, Fearless Magic, Endless Magic, The Reluctant King, The Relentless Warrior and The Redeemable Prince!!!!<br />
<br />
Told you it was exciting!!!!<br />
<br />Haven't started the Star-Crossed series yet??? Check out the first book for FREE!!! And find out what all the buzz is about!<br /><br />Reckless Magic for Amazon: <a href="http://amzn.to/1JQnulp" rel="nofollow" style="background-color: white; color: #3b5998; cursor: pointer; font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 21.4667px;" target="_blank">http://amzn.to/1JQnulp</a><br />Reckless Magic for Barnes and Noble: <a href="http://goo.gl/OWTFZw" rel="nofollow" style="background-color: white; color: #3b5998; cursor: pointer; font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 21.4667px;" target="_blank">http://goo.gl/OWTFZw</a><br />
Reckless Magic for iBooks: <a href="https://goo.gl/ukkobw" rel="nofollow" style="background-color: white; color: #3b5998; cursor: pointer; font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 21.4667px;" target="_blank">https://goo.gl/ukkobw</a><br />
Reckless Magic for Kobo: <a href="https://goo.gl/oeOasj" rel="nofollow" style="background-color: white; color: #3b5998; cursor: pointer; font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 21.4667px;" target="_blank">https://goo.gl/oeOasj</a><br /><br /><br /><br />
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<br />Rachelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17973308145047978707noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8713760887182467034.post-61319867031928899892016-01-18T17:48:00.001-06:002016-01-18T17:48:33.614-06:00School's Out for... MLK Day. Today is Martin Luther King Day.<br />
<br />
I love Martin Luther King. He's one of my favorite historical figures. Everything that came out of his mouth was basically quotable. He changed history. He forced change in a society,<b> nay in a humanity</b>, that loathes all things change and different. He demanded people sit up and pay attention.<br />
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And they did.<br />
<br />
But this blog is not about Martin Luther King. Nor the incredible things he accomplished.<br />
<br />
Oh, no. Feel free to celebrate MLK all you want. By yourselves. On other places on the internet. In churches, in book clubs, in meetings, in work places, in wherever and whenever you can.<br />
<br />
But I'll tell you the one place we won't be celebrating this holiday. In schools.<br />
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<b>Why</b>??? you ask.<br />
<br />
And are you also just a little bit nervous this blog is going to take a sharp right turn for the political??? Have no fear, faithful readers. I lead you not into the Land of Controversy. But into the Land of Motherhood.<br />
<br />
Because MLK Day means something a little different around here. It means <b>no</b> school. Not even pre-school.<br />
<br />
On a Monday.<br />
<br />
Did you hear me??? No school <b><i>on a Monday!</i></b><br />
<br />
It means that I've just spent two very busy weekend days with all <strike>hundred</strike> four of my kidlets and instead of crawling out of bed at the crack of dawn on an unholy Monday morning and kicking their adorable little booties back to school, I kept them home with me today instead.<br />
<br />
And y'all. (I'm not from the South, but this felt like a y'all moment. It felt right, y'all.) <i>Y'ALL</i> we <b>NEED</b> school on Mondays. We <i>need</i> it.<br />
<br />
These children are wild. And this house has been turned into a violent pit of mayhem and chaos.<br />
<br />
There are breakfast dishes still on the table. Breakfast dishes. That should give you a pretty good hint about what my kitchen looks like... My couch cushions are strewn about the house like a dog dragged them from here to there, making nests. We don't even have a dog! (And do they make nests??) There's no place to sit, unless you want to pretend we're in <i>Aladdin</i> and <i>enjoy</i> sitting on the floor. Unless you want to pretend I'm even young enough to sit on the floor and not whine about how bad my back hurts. Every. single. blanket in this house has been unfolded, crumpled into a blob and thrown someplace it does not belong. Why? What do the children have against blankets??? And the upstairs. Oh, lord. The upstairs. It's the epicenter of destruction. Star Wars Ships. Barbies. Dolls. Dress Up Clothes. Ninja Turtles. Avengers. Stuffed Animals.<br />
<br />
My god, the stuffed animals.<br />
<br />
They're everywhere. Every. Where.<br />
<br />
Not an inch of my house has gone untouched. I found Nerf guns in the bathtub. There are toothbrushes on the stairs. And the hallway... I can't... I can't even talk about it.<br />
<br />Are we barbarians??? Who is running this house?!?!<br />
<br />Where are the parents???<br /><br />Oh, wait. That's me.<br />
<br />
Ahem...<br />
<br />
There have been approximately two hours more TV than is humanly acceptable. And don't even get me started on Disney Infinity.<br />
<br />It's like if my children aren't playing it, aren't connected to some kind of machine, they will die. They will literally <strike>whine and scream and cry and annoy the bejeezus out of me until I relent</strike> die.<br />
<br />
They're not even dressed!! Not a single tooth has been brushed or a single strand of hair combed.<br />
<br /><i>I just fed them cheesecake for a snack. </i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>Cheesecake.</i><br />
<br />
At 4 o'clock!!! It might as well have been dinner.<br />
<br />
Why is there even cheesecake in my house??? Where did it come from??? How do I just have <i>cheesecake</i> sitting around?!?!<br />
<br />
I'm concerned for my mental stability. I'm not sure we're going to survive the afternoon. Let alone until <b>BEDTIME</b>.<br />
<br />
I hear the theme song to <i>Jaws</i> right now. Does anyone else here it? Is it just me???<br />
<br />
It's just me?? Good. I can officially confirm that MLK Day has made me lose what little remained of my sanity.<br />
<br />
The problem is, this is a house that thrives on schedules. We like to have a plan. And a goal. And a set routine for each day.<br />
<br />
Then suddenly the <strike>devil himself</strike> school system decides to throw off our routine just willy nilly and suddenly we're half naked, running around with syrup in our hair, screaming about poop!<br />
<br />Or at least one of us is doing that. (He's also three. So don't judge us too harshly.)<br />
<br />
Sunday night we went to bed with the remaining shreds of our dignity. Sunday- Even though we skipped church because it was -20 with the windchill. I love Jesus. But... Grace. And Forgiveness. And He knows about -20- we still managed to get everyone dressed. We demanded that they brush teeth and not smell and do something with their lives.<br />
<br />
Then Monday came. And they didn't leave for school. Their brains weren't challenged. Their attitudes weren't checked by other adults. Their personalities didn't have other people to put up with them.<br />
<br />
They stayed home. To play with each other. Again. For the third day.<br />
<br />
And you guys. *deep breaths* We need a break from each other!!!<br />
<br />
Mondays are meant for school. Mondays are hard enough as it is to face life and work and living without throwing a No School Day in the mix!!<br />
<br />
I just sent them back for goodness sakes! We barely made it out of Christmas Break alive. It's only January! At least give me four Mondays in a row to get my life back in order!<br />
<br />
My To Do List is currently laughing at me. My Word Count Goal is shaking its judgmental little head. And my husband is working.<br />
<br />
Send help.<br />
<br />
It's my own fault though! I was the one foolish enough to think I could still get something done today. Yesterday, as I planned my week, I thought, "The kids will be home, but I still can make my word count. I'm on a deadline. I'll be able to prioritize. They'll listen. They care about me. They love me. They don't want to stress me out." <br /><br />LIES.<br />
<br />
All of that was lies!<br />
<br />
They haven't listened to me for <strike>their whole lives</strike> hours.<br />
<br />
They don't care about my word counts or deadlines or stress levels.<br />
<br />
They <i>might</i> still love me. I'm not sure. Maybe. And since I've banished them upstairs until I can <b><i>at least walk through the hallway</i></b> I'll have to confirm that at a later date.<br />
<br />
But they shouldn't care, should they?? It's not their job to meet deadlines or publish books or do the dishes. (At least not yet! Muahahaha.)<br />
<br />They're kids! They're supposed to be wild and crazy and messy. I don't want them to look back at their days off and remember how orderly mom kept the house or how quiet they had to be.<br />
<br />
I'd much rather have them remember running around the house half naked with Nerf Swords and capes on, laughing until they can't stand up. Or creating entire Barbie citadels that span the length and width of their rooms. I'd much rather have them remember learning to compromise over video games and working a system out between themselves so everyone gets a fair turn. I'd much rather have them curled up on the couch reading to me than me at my computer yelling at them to be quiet so I can work. (Of course there's been an even mixture of that.) I'd much rather them remember that one time mom let us have Cheesecake for dinner and when they made a fort out of couch cushions until their little brother dive-bombed shouting, "Naked Boy ATTACK!!!!"<br />
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I'd much rather have them making memories.<br />
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I'd much rather have a mess to clean up when they finally do go back to school so I can focus on them while they're home.<br />
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I'd much rather eat Cheesecake for dinner once than never break the rules that nobody in this house actually set.<br />
<br />
I'd much rather have four wild savages than four perfectly behaved children that can't remember love or life or chaos.<br />
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So will I complain about MLK Day? Heck, yes. Every MLK Day and Veteran's Day and President's Day and Memorial Day and so on forever and ever amen.<br />
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But will I also treasure it? And these four little monsters that are growing up way too fast? Absolutely.<br />
<br />
On this Manic Monday until the very last Manic Monday of my life. <br />
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<br />Rachelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17973308145047978707noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8713760887182467034.post-8372783857841390392015-12-29T18:03:00.002-06:002015-12-29T18:05:21.321-06:00Merry New Year!!!!! <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br />
I haven't blogged in FOREVER!!!<br />
<br />
Life is so crazy these days. I'm sure you guys know. Between kids and well, more kids, I'm not exactly sure when I have time to breathe! Lol<br />
<br />
Christmas Break is especially hectic. There are four kids running around my house ALL THE TIME!<br />
<br />
Nana has graciously offered to take them for a couple days because if I had to hear the whining battle cry of an 8, 6, 4 and 3 year old scream out, "There's nothing to DO!!!!" <i>one more time</i> after we <b><u>JUST</u></b> had Christmas and they got approximately 203,840,923,892 new toys, I might not survive the day.<br />
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Seriously. I feel like the worst kind of hoarder! Meanwhile they're bored out of their <strike>obnoxious</strike> precious minds.<br />
<br />
I can't complain too much though. I do love that we haven't had homework or projects or all the trips to school and back and the being on time (Oy! The being on time!) and the constant grind of daily school life that puts life on fast forward and makes me feel like a hamster in a perpetually spinning wheel.<br />
<br />
I love having these monsters home with me. Even when they <strike>try to murder each other...</strike> <strike>brawl and scream and make giant messes in every room of the house...</strike> <strike>punch each other in the faces...</strike> gently argue or mildly complain.<br />
<br />
Plus I get to sleep in every morning!!!! Whoo hoo for that!<br />
<br />
I had to write a blog today to tell you all a late <span style="color: lime;">MERRY</span> <span style="color: red;">CHRISTMAS</span><span style="color: lime;">!</span><span style="color: red;">!</span><span style="color: lime;">!</span><span style="color: red;">!</span> And an early <span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #6fa8dc;">HAPPY</span></span> <span style="color: #3d85c6;">NEW </span><span style="color: #0b5394;">YEARS</span><span style="color: #073763;">!!!!</span><br />
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I love love love this time of year!!! I mean, there's Christmas. Which is awesome. I have always loved it of course, but the kids make it unbelievably special. And after having four of them, I can suddenly and very sincerely relate to Mary a whole stinking lot.<br />
<br />
I imagine her 9 months pregnant and riding a donkey all the way to freaking Bethlehem. THEN, I picture her in a barn, giving birth for the very first time at seventeen to THE SON OF GOD and you guys. You. Guys. I get so emotional!!! I mean, Gah!!!<br />
<br />
Christmas has never meant more to me than it did this year. And it was lovely.<br />
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I hope yours was too. And that you were surrounded by loved ones and happiness and that you were simply overjoyed.<br />
<br />
And now for New Years!!!<br />
<br />
I can't even believe that we are days away from 2016. I'm not even sure what happened to 2015. It passed by in a blink and I'm left scrambling and trying to figure out where the year went and how time works and why my kids are suddenly so big.<br />
<br />
But honestly, I love the New Year. I love everything that it symbolizes and how much there is to anticipate.<br />
<br />
Most of all, I really love resolutions!!! I <b><u>LOVE</u></b> setting them. I love setting aside a couple hours and soul-searching, finding out where I want to go and what goals I want to reach. I love conquering those goals. And I really love crossing them off the list.<br />
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Nothing feels better than taking my beloved Sharpie pen and making a nice squiggly slash straight through that once never-reached milestone.<br />
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And after the year is finished and I've somehow survived 365 days of struggle and life and kids and career and love and sadness and hopelessness and hope and good times and bad, I love looking back at the year and seeing how far I've come, how far I stretched myself and demanded more of myself and accomplished and succeeded and where there is yet to go.<br />
<br />
2015 was one of the hardest years of my life.<br />
<br />
And one of the absolute best.<br />
<br />
Isn't it funny how God does that?<br />
<br />
I have never had such struggles with writing and such blessings. I've never had so much success or so little. Until this year, I had never quite seen the farthest depths of those valleys or the highest peaks of those mountaintops.<br />
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And in the pain and despair there was such sense of belonging. And in the incredible success and joyous accomplishments, there was fear and unknown futures and intense anxiety.<br />
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My job, I'm afraid, is like most everything else in life. There is good. There is bad. There just is...<br />
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This is the very reason I set goals. And I am a giant goal setter. I have one year goals and five year goals and ten year goals. I have monthly goals. And weekly goals. And daily goals.<br />
<br />
Right now I have an hourly goal of finishing this blog, putting away the folded laundry, doing the dishes and getting ready for our double date tonight.<br />
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I don't think I'm going to reach it. :)<br />
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I'm all about goals because I refuse to let them make me feel anything but driven and hopeful. I refuse to feel like a failure when my goals go unmet. I refuse to let the easy negativity of human nature steal my joy and give me anything less than purpose.<br />
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This is why New Years Resolutions are so exciting to me! I accomplished a lot in 2015 and I cannot wait to accomplish even more in 2016!!!<br />
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It's all about perspective. The perspective you choose. The perspective you gift yourself with.<br />
<br />
So here's a Top 10 list of Resolutions I reached in 2015!!! Each one is a small celebration! And I cannot wait to write my list for 2016!<br />
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1. Keep up with the laundry.<br />
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I set a goal to do laundry every Tuesday and Friday. I met it! For the most part... :) I now have a laundry routine. One that I stick to religiously, knowing that if I do laundry on Tuesdays and Fridays, I'll have a blissful few laundry-free days in between! (It should be noted that since laundry is my most hated household chore, I have a laundry resolution every single year. The year before, I resolved to fold every load as it came out of the dryer. I've stuck to that one too!)<br />
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2. Church.<br />
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I wanted to make church more of a priority in our lives. And I am happy to say that as a family we took this step together. Sunday mornings are something we look forward to and I started teaching a Bible Study on Thursday mornings.<br />
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3. Finish the Siren Series!!!<br />
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My goal was by February... The Heart didn't come out until June. But it did finally come out!!!!! I am so super proud of that series and I'm so happy it's finally finished!<br />
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4. Write Two Adult Contemp Books!<br />
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And I did. The Five Stages of Falling in Love came out in January and Every Wrong Reason released in September!!! Those books have brought me some of my biggest success and I cannot believe I actually wrote them. I'm still trying to wrap my head around adult contemp and yet I have two to my name! What?!?!<br />
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5. Reach 5,000 Facebook Likes.<br />
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This was a huge career goal for me. And it might sound silly to other people, but I was so happy to reach 5k Likes!!! What does it mean in the grand scheme of something?? Maybe nothing. But for me, it was a milestone that I had been working towards for four years. It was quite an exciting day for me! :)<br />
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6. Go to Signings!<br />
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Before 2015, I had only one signing under my belt! But during the year 2015, I signed at 5 different events and made my way around half the country!!!!<br />
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We also picked up a lot of beer on these road trips! :)<br />
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7. Make More Time for Family.<br />
<br />
I have workaholic tendencies. They can get bad. I am super task-oriented, despite what this blog is telling you. When I start a project, I can only see <i>that</i> project and it takes a huge jolt to my system to break me out of tunnel vision. This is especially true with books. I can easily write for 12-15 hours a day if I'm not interrupted. But my kids are little and they're beautiful and I miss so much of their lives when I put my head down and focus only on work. I made it a point this year to slow down with my projects and focus on family. I only released three full length books this year and a season of Love and Decay. In some ways that feels like disappointment when I think of all the other books I <i>wanted</i> to publish this year. But then I pick my head up and look at everything else I got to do instead. Like swimming with my kids over the summer. And spending time with good friends in a book club. I got to take girl trips and focus on beloved friends. I watched TV with my husband and played board games with him and went on dates that will mean everything to me as we grow older. I focused on extended family when they came to town and I learned to balance life and work. Even if that means I didn't publish everything I wanted to. Even if that means I had to slow down and remember how to be a real person and not just a blurry image of one.<br />
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It was surprisingly hard.<br />
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But so worth it.<br />
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8. Hit a Bestsellers List.<br />
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This was an impossible one to me! It was one of those far-reaching goals I didn't actually expect to make. I'd set the goal before and for years it had gone unmet and unreached. And yet, middle of 2015, I was asked to be part of a box set that went on to hit the New York Times Bestsellers list AND the USA Today Bestsellers list. I was beyond shocked. I still am. And this is why I set goals. So I can surprise even myself!<br />
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9. Win an Award.<br />
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I had only ever been nominated for one literary award prior to 2015. And yet 2015 happened and I was nominated for four awards!!! And I won two of them!!!! See??? Goals people!!! Aren't they beautiful.<br />
<br />
10. Personal Health.<br />
<br />
I have a lot of these goals. And it seems that days pass and I never even remember I wanted to improve my body. But I took major steps this year when I started a serious campaign to take care of my skin. This might seem silly to you, but when I set resolutions, I make sure they encompass Body, Mind and Spirit in both Personal Places and Professional Aspirations. I have a lot of Body goals. And most days I give them up because I love soda and chocolate and I forget to take care of me in the middle of taking care of my house or my kids or my husband or my writing. But this year I started seriously taking care of my skin. I found products I love and a system that works for my busy schedule. This truly feels like an accomplishment and I cannot wait to tackle my next goals.<br />
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The best part of setting goals is knowing you have the power to reach them. It might take years. Or they might manifest in different ways than you expected. But we are humans. And humans can do anything they set their minds to. Sure, it takes self-discipline and irrepressible drive, but we have those beautiful things inside of all of us. They're just waiting for us to use them. They're dying for us to simply try.<br />
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I encourage you to set Resolutions this year. I encourage you to look on them with optimism and hope. I encourage you to push yourself beyond your limits and out, way, <i>way</i>, <b><u><i>way</i></u></b> out of your comfort zone.<br />
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Because that's where the best of life is waiting for you.<br />
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The very best.<br />
<br />
And don't get down when you fail or struggle or the year goes by and your accomplishment list is far shorter than the list you set out to conquer.<br />
<br />
I shared ten happily met resolutions. But that was a list out of thirty. And for every goal met, I failed at three.<br />
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But the ones I met were pretty amazing to me. They changed my life in the biggest ways. And now I have a head start on what to hope for for next year!!!<br />
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So, here's to a year gone, a year past, a year that we were our best selves with our best lives. And here's to 2016, where we will go forth with vigor and passion and a drive to conquer <i>the hell out of it</i>.<br />
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Here's to the best self we have yet to be and the best life we have yet to live.<br />
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And to the best of everything just waiting for us to try.<br />
<br />
<br />Rachelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17973308145047978707noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8713760887182467034.post-20793210008151778042015-11-11T11:08:00.000-06:002015-11-11T11:53:19.764-06:00For Freedom<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br />
What a time we live in.<br />
<br />
Do you ever just stop your busy life and thank God you were born in this place, in this time? I do. Sometimes, selfishly, I think about what my life would be like without hair product or indoor plumbing... I think about how I would write books with a quill or live without Starbucks and I feel pleasantly grateful for this time and place I was divinely appointed.<br />
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When I say those things out loud, they seem so silly. There are so many other important reasons to be grateful for this century. Modern medicine for instance. Modern roads. Communication. The absence of raiding Viking Hordes.<br />
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And beyond that, in the country I live in, in this United States of America, there is more to be thankful for. Freedom of Speech. Freedom of Religion. Equal Rights. Women's Rights. A democratic republic in which we can choose a president that serves for a limited time.<br />
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We are blessed in America. Even while things seem so bad right now. Even while our rights are being threatened and our liberties questioned.<br />
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We still enjoy this freedom that is a foundational part of each and every American.<br />
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And while we can look to the Constitution and thank our Founding Fathers for having the insight and foresight to establish a country that holds life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness above all things, we must also thank our Veterans.<br />
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We must also thank those that have served this country since the beginning. That fought wars and battles and worked on a daily basis to ensure that we get to keep these rights we hold so dear, that ensure our freedoms are not threatened by outside forces and our liberties are stripped away by the enemies that would gladly take them.<br />
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Our greatest threat to the principles in which this nation was founded come from within. Our military, our serving men and women, have sacrificed their happiness, their own freedom and often times their lives to protect us from evil that would take all of this away from us.<br />
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We can look all the way back to the beginning and the Revolutionary War. How close we came to losing our freedom before it ever began. We can thank men who devoted their lives to building something great, something different, something that had never been done before.<br />
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We can look to the Civil War and how we abolished slavery. How we fought to give every man, no matter his race or color of his skin, equal placing in our constitutional values. We can look at the rest of the world and see how unique that war was to this day. How privileged we are to live in a country that holds every man and woman equal. This is not the norm. This is not the status quo. This is unique and precious and we have a responsibility to respect this freedom and uphold this value.<br />
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We can look to the World Wars. Specifically the second one. Where it wasn't just our freedom at stake, but the value of human life. We didn't just stop an attempt at world domination, we fought to end mass genocide. As a nation we believed that human life was worthy and worth fighting for and that every man, woman and child was created equally and deserving of a free life.<br />
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We still believe that today.<br />
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I can go on and on. September 11th. Afghanistan. Iraq. The battles we don't even hear about because our military is fighting for liberty while our media reports on inane red coffee cups.<br />
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And as Americans, I think we have a tendency to get complacent. We expect the rest of the world to hold our views of life and respect all races, religions and genders equally. Like we do. Because it's what we've done since the beginning. Because we can't imagine a different way of thinking or a different way of life.<br />
<br />
But it's not true.<br />
<br />
We are unique in the world. Our military is <i>unique</i> in the world.<br />
<br />
ISIS is executing Christians by the hundreds of thousands. And yet we are allowed to worship freely. We are allowed to not worship freely. You are free to be a Christian, a Muslim, a Buddhist, or an atheist and that is your inalienable right. Our idea of the separation of church and state was not delivered to protect our government from our religious beliefs because our founding fathers knew and understood that men and women <b>should have</b> religious beliefs. But rather the separation of church and state protects the church from our government. How blessed are we to believe whatever we want without penalty or alienation.<br />
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How blessed are we to be a woman or a man and be treated equally, fairly and without prejudice.<br />
<br />
I am a woman that works from home. I am a woman that is wearing yoga pants and a tank top and a messy bun and no makeup and I speak freely in my house, I worship a God I believe in and I choose what school to send my children to. I am a woman that is paid just as equally as men. I am a woman that speaks to my husband as his equal. I am a woman that can write this blog and speak out against injustice without fear or punishment.<br />
<br />
This is unique, people. I swear to you.<br />
<br />
And through it all I have my military to thank. I have the men and women that have fought in all branches of service, that have sacrificed, that have given up normal, peaceful lives and have dedicated them in service to this country.<br />
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You deserve more than my gratitude. You deserve more than my thanks. But in my humble life it is all I have to give to you.<br />
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So thank you for your time, your effort and your commitment to freedom.<br />
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We honor you today as a nation. You are heroes. You are legends. You are protectors of freedom and of life.<br />
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And to those I know personally, to my brother who served in Desert Storm, to my dad and my uncles who served in Vietnam, to my cousins serving now. Thank you. Rachelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17973308145047978707noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8713760887182467034.post-24391029561113523602015-10-26T09:00:00.000-05:002015-10-26T09:10:28.541-05:00Celebrate Spooky!<br />
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<br />
Love and Decay is on SALE!!!!!! Woot!!!!<br />
<br />
On MAJOR Sale. Like read all three seasons for less than $7.00 on sale!!!<br />
<br />
You might be asking yourself if I'm crazy right now!<br />
<br />
And okay, admittedly... I'm a little bit bananas. But. There's a reason for this particular madness.<br />
<br />
It's freaking October.<br />
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What better time to celebrate everything spooky, sinister and undead???<br />
<br />
Also the love.<br />
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Don't forget the love.<br />
<br />
You know that I can't write anything without adding a <strike>massive</strike> teeny dose of romance.<br />
<br />
So check this out. ALL volumes, which includes every episode ever written, in three completed seasons of Love and Decay, totaling 38 Episodes, including alternate points of views and so much zombie gore and hot makeout seasons and alpha males and hot brothers and even hotter stalkers and feisty females and guns and baseball bats and cannibals and warlords and dictators and did I mention hot makeouts???? and so so so so much more, ALLLLLLL for .99 each!!!!!<br />
<br />
Hooray!!!!<br />
<br />
Oh and have I mentioned that Love and Decay, Seasons 1-3 make up a COMPLETED story arc?!?! No waiting for a conclusion or more books to come out or hating cliffhangers or me or... me. :) It's completely finished.<br />
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But wait! There is even better news. More Love and Decay will be coming to you THIS December!!! Just from a different perspective. And all new story lines. And with a whole bunch more zombies.<br />
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And steamy makeouts. :) <br />
<br />
So here's what I'm going to do. I'm going to make it super easy and link everything. In order. For Amazon AND iBooks AND Barnes and Noble. And then after that. I'm going to show you the Season Four COVER!!!!! PS. There will also be a pre-order link!!!!!<br />
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This just might be the best L&D day ever. :)<br />
<br />
Love and Decay Sale for Amazon:<br />
<br />
<a href="http://amzn.to/1N12zvA">Volume One</a><br />
<a href="http://amzn.to/1N12Ezl">Volume Two</a><br />
<a href="http://amzn.to/1MMVlXw">Volume Three</a><br />
<a href="http://amzn.to/1MMVmL9">Volume Four</a><br />
<a href="http://amzn.to/1MMVqdR">Volume Five</a><br />
<a href="http://amzn.to/1MMVv0U">Volume Six</a><br />
<a href="http://amzn.to/1LVslR0">Volume Seven</a><br />
<a href="http://amzn.to/1Wcydqd">Volume Eight</a><br />
<br />
Love and Decay Sale for iBooks:<br />
<br />
<a href="https://goo.gl/0UBYOY">Volume One</a><br />
<a href="https://goo.gl/DNbvTD">Volume Two</a><br />
<a href="https://goo.gl/bDWv9T">Volume Three</a><br />
<a href="https://goo.gl/jn7Je0">Volume Four</a><br />
<a href="https://goo.gl/jRxkDw">Volume Five</a><br />
<a href="https://goo.gl/AMiGgr">Volume Six</a><br />
<a href="https://goo.gl/FUI2sD">Volume Seven</a><br />
<a href="https://goo.gl/7P81sI">Volume Eight</a><br />
<br />
Love and Decay for Barnes and Noble:<br />
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<a href="http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/love-and-decay-volume-one-rachel-higginson/1117076205?ean=2940045317306">Volume One</a><br />
<a href="http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/love-and-decay-volume-two-rachel-higginson/1117550792?ean=2940045482462">Volume Two</a><br />
<a href="http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/love-and-decay-volume-three-rachel-higginson/1118953221?ean=2940045783842">Volume Three</a><br />
<a href="http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/love-and-decay-volume-four-rachel-higginson/1119560335?ean=2940045948579">Volume Four</a><br />
<a href="http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/love-and-decay-volume-five-rachel-higginson/1119974027?ean=2940045651691">Volume Five</a><br />
<a href="http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/love-and-decay-volume-six-rachel-higginson/1121106586?ean=2940046536126">Volume Six</a><br />
<a href="http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/love-and-decay-volume-seven-rachel-higginson/1121639005?ean=2940151841375">Volume Seven</a><br />
<a href="http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/love-and-decay-volume-eight-rachel-higginson/1122841865?ean=2940151938679">Volume Eight</a><br />
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I hope you pick these up for CHEAP!!! Enjoy the ever loving hell out of them!<br />
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And when you finish...??? Don't forget to pre-order Season Four, Episode One!!!!<br />
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Some of you might be wondering why the hike in price?? Here's the deal. Season Four, Episode One is SPECIAL!!! You get two options! You can pre-order the version for $2.99 that will not only come out two days EARLY on December, 2nd!! But you'll also get twice the content because it will include a bonus Episode One from Miller Allen's perspective!!!!<br />
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Which I am so excited about.<br />
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Which I cannot wait to give to you.<br />
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Which I think you will read it and maybe, possibly, probably... just die. :)<br />
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But just in case that's not appealing to you, Season Four, Episode One for .99 will be available on December 4th as planned!!! So two options!!!<br />
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If you are as excited about the pre-order and bonus content as I am, then check it out here!<br />
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<a href="http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B0175AQDYE?creativeASIN=B0175AQDYE&linkCode=w01&linkId=PVTAGAW67TJSA36N&ref_=as_sl_pc_ss_til&tag=rachehiggi-20">Pre-Order Season Four, Episode One for Amazon</a><br />
<a href="https://itunes.apple.com/us/book/love-decay-season-four-episode/id1052681798?mt=11&ign-mpt=uo%3D4">Pre-Order Season Four, Episode One for iBooks</a><br />
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And now... without further ado... The gorgeous, the stunning, the completely perfect Season Four COVER!!!! (Thank you Caedus Design Co)<br />
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<br />Rachelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17973308145047978707noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8713760887182467034.post-80282291720406501592015-10-20T14:59:00.001-05:002015-10-20T14:59:54.985-05:00Upcoming Releases and SuchDo you like the new layout??? <div>
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My husband looked at my blog and said... This is a travesty. </div>
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Lol!!<br /><br />So, he made his best attempt to turn me into a professional. </div>
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Silly man. </div>
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However, I do love the new look!!! And I'm really thankful one of us is concerned with at least <i>looking</i> professional. </div>
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Since clearly it isn't me!!!</div>
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Actually this is me right now:</div>
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And I'm not even kidding!!!!</div>
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But to be fair, I am working super hard on Bet on Me!! And this deep into the writer's cave, there isn't much sunlight. Or other humans. Or a reason to wear anything but three day old pajamas and a scrunchie. </div>
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Just kidding. I don't actually own a scrunchie. </div>
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The rest is all true. </div>
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So, what I would really love to do is give you a release date for Bet on Me so you can get excited!!!! But I can't do that. Because I don't trust myself. </div>
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See? I'm a grownup. I know my boundaries. And I am not to be trusted. </div>
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I do have to say that I am LOVING this book though. It's so much freaking fun. </div>
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I've had a rough writing year. Okay, truly, it's been an amazing writing year. But it's also been deeply emotional. </div>
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My heart has hurt basically the entire 365 days. There was Five Stages. Which wrecked me completely. I cried on every single page of that book. And then I cried on every single page of that book every single time I read through it. Oh my goodness, that book messed me up. </div>
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And then there was Love and Decay. Season Three was one of the hardest and most fulfilling things I've ever written. I was proud of myself for what L&D became. And I was amazed at the story and arc and ending. But I also had to say goodbye to too many of my beloved characters. One of which is Reagan because I don't get to write in her POV anymore. And I had to write highly emotional scenes that I threw my entire heart and soul and mind into. Let me tell you, that series was just as hard on me!!!</div>
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Then The Heart. Another series conclusion where I had to say goodbye to not just characters I loved, but also an entire world. Plus, that story is just as emotional, just as devastating, just as impactful. For me at least. </div>
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And right after I finished The Heart, I jumped into Every Wrong Reason. Have you read that book??? I mean, talk about tears. Yeesh!!! That book ripped open my soul, clawed at my insides, did a salsa dance on my heart and then somehow molded me all back together again as if I were made of playdo. </div>
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So, after a year like that... I'm so thrilled to be writing something lighter and fun and so just... romantic. </div>
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I'm having so much fun with Beckett and Britte! They are hilarious. And stubborn. And thick-headed. and every single thing I love about my characters. </div>
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And I can't wait for you to have this book, because I think you need a break from your emotions too!!! </div>
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If my last few books have made you read them through your unending tears. I'm hoping this one will make you read through a constant smile. I just want happy grins and butterflies and fluttering hearts. Nothing else. </div>
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Aren't you excited for this book too now???</div>
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If you are new to my books and don't know what Bet on Me is or where it came from, let me tell you. It is the second book in a series of Stand-alones. The first book in the series is called Bet on Us- although both books can be read completely separate from each other. I published Bet on Us back in 2012... So basically forever ago.</div>
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Bet on Me has been a VERY long awaited book. So I'm so happy to finally get to write it. </div>
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Here is the link to Bet on Us in case you want to start there!!! </div>
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<br /><a href="http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B00D1F1DNY?creativeASIN=B00D1F1DNY&linkCode=w01&linkId=VAHHYWUS2DGO2CCX&ref_=as_sl_pc_ss_til&tag=rachehiggi-20">Bet on Us for Amazon</a>. </div>
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In the meantime, enjoy this little (very unedited) snippet from Bet on Me!!!! Release date: COMING SOON!!!<br /><br /><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0.2in;">
The barista appeared and smiled at us, handing off our
separate cups. “Chai Tea? Caramel Macchiato, soy, no whip, extra shot?”<o:p></o:p></div>
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I had been too nervous to pay attention to Beckett’s
order. I raised an eyebrow at him. “Chai Tea?” <o:p></o:p></div>
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He cleared his throat and looked away. “I don’t like
coffee.” <o:p></o:p></div>
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“Well, then we just cannot be friends.” I squeezed
between another set of closely grouped chairs and plopped down onto a wide
fluffy chair made from green corduroy. <o:p></o:p></div>
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Beckett took the navy blue monstrosity next to me. “It
all makes sense now.” <o:p></o:p></div>
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I slid him a sideways glance. “What makes sense?” <o:p></o:p></div>
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“You’re a snob.” <o:p></o:p></div>
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“I’m not!” <o:p></o:p></div>
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He gave my white cup a pointed look. “I don’t even
know what you ordered. I think I need a coffee dictionary to figure out what
went into that drink. You’re a coffee snob. You look down on those that don’t
worship at your coffee god’s feet. I’m sorry I’m different, Britte. But I hope
you can find it in your heart to accept me anyway.” <o:p></o:p></div>
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I couldn’t help but laugh, despite myself… despite the
riot of nerves in my stomach… despite my no-Beckett policy… despite his
ridiculous sense of humor. “You <i>are</i>
different, but I’m not judging.”<o:p></o:p></div>
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“Yeah, right. I know your type.” <o:p></o:p></div>
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I couldn’t help but take the bait. This was actually
kind of fun. “My type?” <o:p></o:p></div>
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“Sure you do. Beautiful girls that don’t have time for
Chai. You probably troll Starbucks for double-shot-espresso-drinking douches.
You’re perfect guy has yellow, coffee-stained teeth and the shakes.” <o:p></o:p></div>
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Rachelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17973308145047978707noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8713760887182467034.post-11515716199291086542015-10-13T09:00:00.000-05:002015-10-13T09:00:03.274-05:00My Life in PicturesHey-O!!!<br />
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It's Tuesday!!!!<br />
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There's nothing really exciting about that other than I haven't blogged in a while and I thought it was probably time I caught up with you all.<br />
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It's been a crazy few weeks around here! I've had a book release, a trip to Florida, a house FULL of sick, puking kids and so much laundry I've been thinking about moving my family to a nudist colony.<br />
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That's a legitimate way to fight the laundry, right??<br />
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I hate laundry.<br />
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I loathe it.<br />
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I have a friend that likes to remind me that laundry is a result of the fall of mankind. THANKS A LOT ADAM AND EVE!!! If you guys wouldn't have eaten the stupid forbidden fruit, we'd still be naked! Without stretch marks!!!!!!!<br />
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Ahem.<br />
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Where was I?<br />
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Anyway. First, let's talk Every Wrong Reason!!!<br />
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Because, you guys. You. Guys. This book!!!!<br />
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It's such a weird book for me. Seriously, it has some of my highest highs as a writer and some of my lowest lows.<br />
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It was one of the hardest books I've ever written. Right up there with 5 Stages. I felt this book deeply. To my bones. And I hope my writing reflected that. It was also like 5 Stages in that after I finished it, I couldn't write anything for a month. I was all book-hungover from it. I did crazy things like dye my hair purple and give up caffeine(That didn't last very long. My hair is still purple though.).<br />
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But it was also one of the easiest books I've ever written in that I didn't have to try. The words just poured out of me as my soul bled onto the pages. I couldn't get out of Kate's head. I lived that story with her. I felt it with her. And I couldn't wait to get to the end to give her the ending she deserved.<br />
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A lot of reviews have speculated if this is a true story. Or if this is based on my life. The answer to both of those is yes and no. :) It's not based on my life. Zach and I have been blessed with ten amazing years of marital bliss. But saying that... we've still fought. We've still been hurt. We've still hurt each other. We know what it's like to live with someone and feel alone. To say something that the other person doesn't hear or misinterprets. We've lived a decade of life together and so there have been incredibly good times. And then all of the other times.<br />
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And not only that but the majority of my close friends are married or in serious relationships. I've been there with them while they've cried, while we've cried, while they don't understand what their husband is possibly thinking. I've sat with them and listened as they've asked questions I don't know the answers to. I've watched them spiral into dark places and fight to heal each other. I've watched them be <b><i>Married</i></b>.<br />
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And they've watched Zach and me be married too.<br />
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So while Every Wrong Reason isn't a piece of nonfiction, it does resonate as very real. Because it is real.<br />
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So real.<br />
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And sometimes that hurts. Sometimes we don't want reality. We want fiction and fairy tales and make believe.<br />
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But I love this story just the same. I love it with a fierceness that surprises me because I wasn't expecting it.<br />
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I hope you also fall in love with it. I hope you go through this emotional journey and it moves you. I hope you can find a piece of truth in this story. A piece that resonates with you, not because you've been where these two people have been... but because you're human. And because you've lived. And because living and being human are<i> hard</i>. Even if they're also beautiful.<br />
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And then come tell me what you thought!!! <br />
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So right after I released Every Wrong Reason, Zach and I left for Florida- literally the day after. We took an extended trip and spent it catching up with each other, sightseeing that beautiful state and hanging out with one of our favorite couples of all time, the Cranes!!!<br />
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We got down there a day early because we wanted to hang out in Tampa and go to a destination brewery called Cigar City.<br />
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Zach is all about beer. I'm not kidding, our lives basically revolve around it. And he knows every single thing there is to know about it!!<br />
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Okay, I'm exaggerating a little bit.<br />
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But for real, he is a beer master. And part of the fun for him is hunting down rare and highly sought after beers. Cigar City is one of those places/beers. They don't distribute outside of Florida and they're one of the best breweries in the country.<br />
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Needless to say, we had an amazing time. And the beer??? Amazing. Superb. Fantastic. DELICIOUS!<br />
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That's us at the brewery!!! I had a strawberry vanilla thing that tasted like dessert and heaven and never-ever-stopping. I'm so sad I can't get it here.<br />
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We'll just have to go back next year! :)<br />
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The next day, we hit up the beach. Being from a landlocked state that barely has lakes of note, I get homesick for the ocean. It's true.<br />
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I swear, I <i>long</i> for it.<br />
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There is an energy with the ocean that buzzes over my skin and pulls something out of me that's profound and consuming. I needed to see it and experience and take enough home with me to last until the next time. And since the event was in Orlando, we thought Tampa was our one shot to visit.<br />
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Here is Zach and me at the ocean just after we breakfasted right on the beach.<br />
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We only got to spend a few hours there, then it was time to drive inland to Orlando for opening night and to meet up with my dear, dear friend, Shelly Crane!!!!<br />
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Shelly is one of the most beautiful people I've ever had the privilege to know, both inside and out. She is the sweetest person you will ever meet. And hilarious. And perfect. And I love her with my whole heart.<br />
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We hung out at a book event called SF:SE. And if you ever get a chance to go, you really should!!! The caliber of authors they had at the event was insane. I walked around with my mouth hanging open in awe.<br />
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Plus it was so much freaking fun.<br />
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Here's Shelly and me on a panel where we talked about authors and blogging. HEY!! Like what I'm doing right now!!!<br />
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This was my favorite panel. Not only did I get to be on it with Shelly, but a comic book author named John Crowther was also there. And I'm going to be real with you, John is one of the COOLEST people I have ever met.<br />
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Not only does he write a freaking comic book!!! (WHAT?!??!?!) But he's so genuine and truly interested in the people he meets. And he's beyond generous. He gave me signed posters and a signed comic book and his friendship. And it was awesome.<br />
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You need to check out his comic, Rochelle the Teen Cockroach as soon as you can get your greedy fingers on it.<br />
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It is everything.<br />
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Here is the Amazon link in case you're interested!!! <a href="http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/0930655443?creativeASIN=0930655443&linkCode=w01&linkId=2CKLVAIZZSXZAOXP&ref_=as_sl_pc_ss_til&tag=rachehiggi-20">Rochelle The Teen Cockroach for Amazon</a><br />
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Not only did we meet John, but we also got to meet Orson Scott Card.<br />
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I'm not sure if you heard me right... I MET ORSON SCOTT CARD!!!!!! AH!!!!!!<br />
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I know most of you are romance readers, but if you've ever ventured into the world of Sci-Fi then Orson is a freaking legend.<br />
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Like beyond a legend.<br />
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He's a pillar of the entire genre.<br />
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I mean... They made Ender's Game a movie. That starred HARRISON FORD.<br />
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So, yeah. He's legit.<br />
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And Ender's Game is one of my favorite books of all time. Of. All. Time.<br />
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It's one of those books that I think about <i>all the time</i>. Like all the time. It just had this huge impact on me and it has the kind of staying power that only comes around so often.<br />
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I read it before I started writing and it's one of those books that molded me into the writer that I am today.<br />
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But I was an idiot and didn't even get a signed copy. UGH! I don't even know what I was thinking. CLEARLY I wasn't. I think I was just too overwhelmed to function.<br />
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I did get a picture though!!!!!<br />
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<br />
That's right!!! Just hanging out with Orson Scott Card. No big deal.<br />
<br />
Doesn't he look happy to be hanging out with <i><b>us</b></i>? :)<br />
<br />
He also came to our first panel. On self-publishing. And he listened!!! And was super interested!<br />
<br />
I smacked Shelly in the leg as soon as he walked in the door. I was like BAM! SHELLY! LOOK!!!!<br />
<br />
And she just smiled at me and my fangirling self.<br />
<br />
The whole event was fantastic. So fun. So cool. I gave a workshop on plotting and 8 point story arcs. It was awesome. There was standing room only. That's never happened to me before! I did a bunch of panels. And met some very cool fans.<br />
<br />
I was sad to have it end and even sadder to leave Florida. So I asked Zach if we could stay one more night back at the ocean before we headed home.<br />
<br />
He was like, that's the best idea you've ever had.<br />
<br />
And I think he was serious.<br />
<br />
But then one night turned into two... We just couldn't make ourselves leave.<br />
<br />
I mean, look at the view from our hotel room!!!<br />
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<br />
And there are people that live there. Like permanently. Could you imagine????<br />
<br />
I look out my window and see suburbia and soy beans.<br />
<br />
They look out their windows and see beautiful blue water with white crested waves that stretches to the horizon.<br />
<br />
My heart aches with jealousy.<br />
<br />
Practically, I could never give up my Nebraska. I could never leave these four seasons or the unique beauty of my own surroundings. But isn't this world we live in just breathtaking?<br />
<br />
It makes even me speechless.<br />
<br />
That there is a place like that beach, with water warm and briny and immense. And then there is a place like my home. Where golden cornfields blanket rolling hills and tall, swaying, gilded-tipped grass rivals the beauty of the oceans.<br />
<br />
It makes me want to go everywhere. See everything.<br />
<br />
And one day I will.<br />
<br />
Eventually we had to come home.<br />
<br />
And then it was straight to the gates of hell.<br />
<br />
Just kidding. But my kids did ALL get sick. One at a time. So it was this constant thing that lasted two weeks. We're still not entirely over it.<br />
<br />
It was life's way of welcoming me back to reality. It was all, "Oh, did you have fun at the ocean? Did you relax? Did you sleep in a bed without miserable kids? And live in a place that wasn't covered with puke??? HA!!! Welcome back, bitches!!!!"<br />
<br />
So now here we are. Deep in life with beautiful kids that will eventually feel better and life that spins and spins and spins.<br />
<br />
But it's good to be home. And it's good to be back to real life.<br />
<br />
If you haven't picked up Every Wrong Reason yet, GET IT HERE!!!!!!<br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B012OMTCY6?creativeASIN=B012OMTCY6&linkCode=w01&linkId=44DDVI3RC52SXCC6&ref_=as_sl_pc_ss_til&tag=rachehiggi-20">For Amazon</a><br />
<a href="https://itunes.apple.com/us/book/every-wrong-reason/id1023525838?mt=11&ign-mpt=uo%3D4">For iBooks</a><br />
<a href="https://store.kobobooks.com/en-us/ebook/every-wrong-reason">For Kobo</a><br />
<a href="http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/every-wrong-reason-rachel-higginson/1122410320?ean=2940152058895">For B&N</a><br />
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<br />Rachelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17973308145047978707noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8713760887182467034.post-12188586833330356902015-09-20T11:37:00.000-05:002015-09-21T10:51:41.846-05:00On the Growing Popularity of Romance Novels<span style="color: #444444; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21.3px;">Please enjoy this super interesting guest post.</span></span><br />
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21.3px;"><br /></span></span>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21.3px;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="background-color: white; color: #444444; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21.3px;"><br /></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 15pt 0in 7.5pt;">
<span style="color: #333333; font-family: "Helvetica","sans-serif"; font-size: 18.0pt; letter-spacing: -.75pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-font-kerning: 18.0pt;"><a href="http://ranksit.com/content_items/show/15023"><span style="color: #2d81cf; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt; text-decoration: none; text-underline: none;">On the Growing
Popularity of Romance Novels</span></a><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span style="color: #333333; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 9.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">On the Growing Popularity of Romance Novels</span></b><span style="color: #333333; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 9.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br />
<br />
<span style="background: white;">Quick: think of a novel that you would consider
a classic – something that inspires writers across generations, and something
that is dissected in university classes and used as a great example of writing.
It’s not often that romance novels achieve this level of distinction, but this
could soon change.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="background: white;">Following the growth of indie publishing and
self-publishing, more and more romance novel writers have been able to launch
their work into the public sphere, and the response has been overwhelming.
Statistics released by Romance Writers of America showed that 13% of all adult
fiction is found in the romance category, with sales reaching</span></span><span style="color: #333333; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 9.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"> </span><a href="https://www.rwa.org/p/cm/ld/fid=580"><span style="color: #2d81cf; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 9.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; text-decoration: none; text-underline: none;">$1.08 billion per year</span></a><span style="background: white; color: #333333; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 9.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">. While nearly a third of all
romance novels are purchased as e-books, romantic and erotic fiction remains
the top-selling genre of the book market. It seems the genre is stronger than
ever, and It’s showing no signs of slowing down.</span><span style="color: #333333; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 9.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br />
<br />
<span style="background: white;">There’s no denying that much of this growth can
be attributed to the fact that our views on romance novels and erotica have
been undergoing some significant changes. A survey of over 1,000 men and women
ages 18 and up revealed that</span></span><span style="color: #333333; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 9.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"> </span><a href="http://www.adameve.com/pressroom.aspx?id=adamandeve.com-asks-do-you-read-erotic-literature"><span style="color: #2d81cf; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 9.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; text-decoration: none; text-underline: none;">41% now openly admit to reading
erotica</span></a><span style="background: white; color: #333333; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 9.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">, and this has helped spark the industry. Publishers are now
more willing – and even actively seeking out – writers of romance novels and
erotica, in an effort to cash in on the craze.</span><span style="color: #333333; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 9.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"> </span><span style="color: #333333; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 9.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br />
<br />
<span style="background: white;">But what is it exactly about the romance genre
that is so appealing? An article on the International Business Times says that
it might have to do with how the genre</span></span><span style="color: #333333; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 9.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"> </span><a href="http://www.ibtimes.com/why-do-modern-women-love-romance-novels-call-it-fifty-shades-grey-syndrome-720842"><span style="color: #2d81cf; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 9.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; text-decoration: none; text-underline: none;">offers a release for many women</span></a><span style="color: #333333; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 9.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"> </span><span style="background: white; color: #333333; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 9.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">--
the core demographic of the genre. Women make up 84% of the genre’s total
readership, and the modern woman often finds herself without the time or
opportunity to experience romance. “We're assailed from every direction with so
much garbage (telemarketers, family demands, tedious chores, etc.) that we become
numb out of self-defense, said Picciano. Reading romance and erotica gives us a
chance to feel, to remind us that we're human and that there is a beautiful,
exciting world out there, waiting to be discovered under the piles of clean
laundry that command our attention.”</span><span style="color: #333333; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 9.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br />
<br />
<span style="background: white;">Of course, some would argue that</span></span><span style="color: #333333; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 9.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"> </span><a href="http://www.telegraph.co.uk/women/sex/10046304/Women-love-erotica.-They-always-have-and-always-will.html"><span style="color: #2d81cf; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 9.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; text-decoration: none; text-underline: none;">women have always loved romantic
literature</span></a><span style="background: white; color: #333333; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 9.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">, and that this has hardly changed in the past few years,
despite a seemingly growing market for the genre. It can’t be denied, however,
that romantic literature is ripe for the picking, and</span><span style="color: #333333; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 9.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"> </span><a href="http://www.smithsonianmag.com/arts-culture/why-cant-romance-novels-get-any-love-180954548/?no-ist"><span style="color: #2d81cf; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 9.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; text-decoration: none; text-underline: none;">academics are now taking notice</span></a><span style="background: white; color: #333333; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 9.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">.
“We’ve been talking about this for 30 years: since the 1980s at least, it’s
been about empowerment versus oppression. Is this narrative empowering or
oppressive to women?” Sarah Frantz Lyons tells the Smithsonian. “We need new
approaches to romance fiction.”</span><span style="color: #333333; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 9.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br />
<br />
<span style="background: white;">Frantz Lyons founded the International
Association for the Study of Popular Romance along with Professor Eric
Selinger, a scholar of American poetry who teaches popular romance at DePaul
University in Chicago back in 2007. She has since been gathering academic
support to look further into the techniques and styles of romance novel
writing, and with the unprecedented popularity boom of the genre, her work may
soon come to fruition.</span></span><o:p></o:p></div>
Rachelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17973308145047978707noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8713760887182467034.post-25866439231621860642015-09-14T14:19:00.000-05:002015-09-14T15:11:01.527-05:00Motherhood- A True Story.Motherhood.<br />
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The greatest calling I've ever answered. </div>
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And the most disgusting adventure I've ever taken. </div>
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All wrapped up into one chaotic, never-ending, beautiful, messy, love-filled, crazy package. </div>
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Er, four packages.</div>
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Since there are four children. </div>
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I've been reflecting a lot on motherhood recently. Specifically over the last four days. </div>
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I have never felt so deeply entrenched in motherhood. Which says a lot since I've been doing this for a while.</div>
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But here's the thing. I'm potty training. I'm potty training my littlest child. The last one still in diapers. The strong-willed, independent, his-way-or-the-highway, stubborn, adorable, cocky little ba.... baby. </div>
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And it's not going well. </div>
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Understatement of the freaking year. </div>
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To be honest, it's not going AT. ALL. </div>
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This child, this sweet, beautiful, smart, headstrong child, straight out <b>refuses</b> to learn. He will not even begin to make anything resembling progress. </div>
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<br />
Sure, he'll go if I threaten him with my arsenal of mom threats and physically put him on the potty. But I'm not kidding you, this child has no issue with just peeing wherever he pleases. Including on his brother's toys. He will literally sit down on the potty for a half hour, stand up and pee on the floor directly in front of the potty. </div>
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He doesn't care that I make him clean it up or change clothes six times a day.</div>
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He doesn't care that I'm near tears and frustrated beyond what my sanity should have to suffer. </div>
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He does. not. care. </div>
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And the worst of it? The <b>very worst</b> of it??? He has the Peter Pan Complex of a lifetime! </div>
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I say, don't you want to be a big boy??? He says, I'm a baby!!!</div>
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I say, don't you want to go to school? You have to be potty-trained to go to school! He breaks down into tears and cries, "I don't want to go to school. I don't want to be late!" </div>
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<br /></div>
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Ladies and gentlemen, that is a direct quote. </div>
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<br /></div>
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Let's not examine too closely that he's apparently heard the phrase, "WE'RE GOING TO BE LATE!!!" shouted one too many times during the early morning rush so that he is now assuming he will be late to the school he's not even old enough to go to yet. </div>
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Ahem. </div>
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<br /></div>
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We'll save that for a different blog. </div>
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<br /></div>
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Moving on. </div>
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The truth is, I've been through this rodeo more than once. I know better than to push an unwilling child. Especially one so damned determine to have it his way. But the thing is... I'm on a deadline. I leave for Orlando at the end of this month and he <i>cannot</i> be in diapers for the three days he'll have to spend in daycare. </div>
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I have ten days to get him in underwear full time. </div>
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Ten days to work a freaking miracle. </div>
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Or come up with Plan B. </div>
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Obviously, I'm working on Plan B. But it would just be SO much easier if he would just do things <strike>my way</strike> the easy way.</div>
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And yet, I know that's asking too much. That's asking <i>way way way</i> too much. </div>
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And so all of this has me pondering <strike>the point of life...</strike> <strike>my sanity...</strike> motherhood. </div>
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There is nothing else like it in the world. Never are we asked so much. Never are we expected to sleep so little, perform at our 110% every second of every day. And never ever are we required to love so deeply, from the very center of our bones, with all of our hearts and souls and lives. </div>
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<br /></div>
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Motherhood is the greatest thing I have ever done. And yet sometimes I wonder if it's not also the worst? </div>
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I am, after all, a human being. A flawed, faulted, messed-up human being. And I'm in charge of raising four little human beings. That will one day (God-willing) be independent, voting, functioning adult human beings. </div>
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<br /></div>
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I'm responsible for that. </div>
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<br /></div>
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Me. </div>
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<br /></div>
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<b><i><u>ME</u></i></b>.</div>
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This person right here. </div>
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<br /></div>
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The person that recently tripped over a toy dump truck, skidded across the kitchen floor, landed on a different toy and sliced open the bottom of my foot while also severely bruising my arch. Then not two hours later, I stabbed my thumb with our sharpest knife and bled all over my dishwasher. </div>
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<br /></div>
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Me. </div>
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<br />
I'm the person in charge of four little people. </div>
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<br /></div>
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But that's how motherhood is. It's both sides of the coin. Of every coin. It's a dichotomy at it's finest. It's both joy and heartache, beauty and chaos. It's love and fear. And hope and worry. It's all of these things and so much more. </div>
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<br /></div>
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And so during my philosophical <strike>freak out</strike> examination, I devised a list of five different <strike>multiple personalities</strike> contrasts that Motherhood is. </div>
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<br /></div>
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What does it <i>mean</i> to be a mother. </div>
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<b>1.</b> It means that you are simultaneously the most anal germophobe on the planet and yet somehow have become desensitized to every disgusting bodily function there is.</div>
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Mothers drive the market in antibacterial soap. We might be the only people buying it actually. Other than hospitals and doctor's offices. And actual germaphobes. It's really more of a life philosophy. We don't believe soap is just for the bathroom and kitchen sink. Oh no. We clip that shit on everywhere. I have 481 travel bottles of antibacterial soap in my house. They go in my purse, on my purse, in my diaper bag, on my kids backpacks, in our coolers, on our trips, to the pool, to the park, to the grocery store, to the mall (Ick. Especially to the mall. That place is a bacteria breeding ground.), to every single restaurant, to the doctor's office, to grandma's house, on every freaking play date because we can't possibly know what kind of plague that other child is carrying and <i>who knows</i> when his mother last bathed him, to church- Jesus takes care of our insides, but He does<i> not</i> wash those door handles white as snow. And let's not even talk about the nursery. *violent shudder* </div>
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The point is, we power wash our children in antibacterial and yet, we are completely fine with every disgusting, grotesque, slimy, mucousy, poopy, snotty, slobbery thing that comes out of them. I am elbows deep in poop and pee. And I'm <i>fine</i> with it. Snot? Here, let me get it with my fingers. Oh, your pacifier dropped on the gas station bathroom floor?? Let me just suck on it for a second. It'll be fine. We're having lunch right now and you want to talk about the upcoming election? I'm going to stop you right there because my four-year-old has explosive diarrhea like you would not believe and I'm going to need to tell you all about it. In detail. With pictures I took with my phone and uploaded to Instagram. I hope you're enjoying your enchiladas. They look delish.</div>
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I'm a professional at shmutz scrubbing. Do you know what shmutz is? It's the crusties you get on your face from a variety of different things. And I'm the real deal. All I have to do is lick my thumb and wipe your face and you look picture perfect. You're welcome random stranger I met at the DMV the other week. Your face needed it. </div>
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<b>2. </b>It means you both love school. And hate it. </div>
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You love it because... the children!!!!!!! There are so many of them! And you cannot possibly be the only one responsible for their upbringing. You need someone else to blame. You need for their future therapist to be able to point fingers at someone else. You need them to learn things that you cannot possibly be expected to know yourself! Like math for example. Or spelling. </div>
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You also need for them not to kill each other. </div>
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You guys, it is survival of the fittest around here and if my children do not get a break from each other, someone is literally going to lose an eye. </div>
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Or a toe. </div>
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Possibly a larger appendage.</div>
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But you also hate school because... THE CHILDREN!!! And every time they go, they learn more and grow more and become more of these people that they are supposed to be. They leave you in the morning and when they come home, they are older. And wiser. And they're one step closer to flying the nest and entering into adulthood. And that <i>sucks</i>. Also sometimes they come home from school and suddenly know more than you. </div>
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And that is not okay, because you have got to remain the final authority in your household. You cannot have independent thinkers running around <i>thinking</i> that they know better than you!! That is for later. Much later. When they move out. But right now, you need them to think you are the smartest person they've ever met so that they still believe you when you tell them that you're in charge. </div>
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But let's get real. Let's have a moment of honesty. The honest-to-god reason we hate school is because it is EVERY FREAKING DAY. For nine months out of the year, five days a week, we have to be up early. <i>Way too early</i>. We have to be ready to go. We have to have eaten breakfast. A <i>good</i> breakfast. Not just half a pop-tart and a handful of M&Ms. But like a legit breakfast. With milk. We have to leave the house. And sometimes it's raining. And sometimes it's cold outside. And sometimes it's <i>actually snowing</i>. And we have to go to school. Every day. And then in a couple hours- way less hours than you thought it was going to be once upon a time- you have to go back to school and pick them up.</div>
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The people at my kids' school have seen me in ways that no living person should be able to testify to. Hair out to there. No makeup. No bra. Wearing three day old sweats with the worst coffee breath. And they see it. Day after day after day because school is five full days a week. </div>
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It's the worst.</div>
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<b>3.</b> It means that we can multitask as if we had eight arms but we can't remember that the trash goes out tomorrow. </div>
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There is this hour of the day that is so chaotic... so out of control... so completely packed with mayhem, I'm honestly surprised I have survived for this long. </div>
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This hour is called the <strike>Vortex of Hell</strike> Dinner Hour. </div>
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Let me set the scene for you. We've made it home from school (again.), I'm helping my girls with their homework as they sit at the table while I'm trying to potty-train the three-year-old. I'm also trying to keep my four-year-old from eating us out of house and home before I get dinner on the table. (He's a locust, I swear. He walks into the room and just starts consuming everything within reach. I'm worried he's not human.) I have to shout to be heard over the subtle roar caused by four children being in the same room as each other. I'm shrieking spelling words, math problems and in the stickiest, sweetest voice imaginable, screaming, "Did you get your pee pees out? Don't get up until your pee pees are out!" He's up. He's so up. Now he's running around the house like a maniac clothed in only a shirt. Hopefully by this point, he's decided to press his half-naked body against our front windows so that the entire neighborhood can check out his junk. I abandon the dinner I'm furiously making- so that the savages don't <i>starve to death </i>and start eating each other- to chase down the baby, plunk him back on the potty and threaten him with everything I can think of. And when that doesn't work, I start bribing. He's got me up to a brand new car and thirty-six straight hours of Paw Patrol. And I don't care. I will do anything at this point. I go back to dinner. Make a snack for the four-year-old just to get a moment of peace out of him(aka, put something in his mouth to quiet him for five whole minutes), start up with the spelling words again and the math and oh, shoot!! I have to take a casserole to church tomorrow! Start working on that too. Why not?? I'm already in the kitchen and it's dirty. I'm probably also involved in at least three text messaging conversations, phone tag with my mother and mentally plotting out the next chapter of my current work in process. BOOM. Homework gets done. Dinner gets on the table. The baby is not potty trained, but he did sit on the potty for a full three minutes(Success!!!) and I have just devised the hottest makeout scene between two supernatural teenagers of my life. </div>
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I am a multitasking goddess. </div>
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Just don't ask me my kids' names. </div>
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Or my name.</div>
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Or who the president is or what the date is or where my husband left his keys??? </div>
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But if you could remind me that Friday is picture day, that would be fantastic. Because I've definitely just filled out the forms but already forgotten about it so my kids are most likely going to show up in their rattiest clothes with their hair dangerously askew and red-Popsicle teeth. </div>
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<b>4.</b> It means that I am the sweetest person on the planet until you mess with one of my kids. Then I will cut a bitch. </div>
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You guys should know that I love Jesus. I really do. But if you so much as look at my kid wrong, I will run you over with my minivan. And if I go to prison for vehicular manslaughter because of you, who will be there to raise my babies???? </div>
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Do you know what I mean? I am a nice, decent human being. I smile at my neighbors. If we pull up to a four-way stop at the same time, I wave for you to go first. I don't scam Groupons. I buy Girl Scout Cookies. I am an upstanding citizen. </div>
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Until it comes to my kids. Then I am Mama Bear. </div>
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I can't help it! There is a switch that is flipped when someone messes with my children. My eyes bulge, my breathing speeds up and I Hulk-out right there on the playground. I don't want it to happen. I would love to remain a rationally thinking adult. I would love to continue swapping recipes with you and talking potty-training tips. But woman, if you don't get your psycho child off my sweet, adorable, innocent one, I'm going to have to say things we will both regret. You probably more than me. Because this shit is about to get real personal. </div>
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Okay, that is an exaggeration. I'll own up to it. But in truth, I have never been an aggressive person until I had children. And even if I don't viciously attack your fashion choices for the afternoon, I never knew I was capable of protecting something like I am my child. </div>
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<b>5.</b> It means that you love them so much that you completely structure your life around them, that all you think about is their well-being and how you can improve their quality of life and give them the best childhood imaginable. But it also means that you cannot wait for them to <b>get out</b> of your house. </div>
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I love these children like I have never known love. They are my <i>life</i>. I mean that. Everything I do, I do for them. But there has been a silent count down clock in my head since the moment of their birth and it constantly ticks down to that blessed day of high school graduation. </div>
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It has it's own theme song. (That okay, slightly resembles Jeopardy.) It has neon flashing lights and a sparkling border. And it is always there. </div>
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Always. </div>
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And it's counting down to one significant moment. </div>
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When hopefully they will remove themselves from my house, go off to a good college and never move back home again. </div>
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You guys, if I am doing my job right as a parent that means one day they HAVE to move on. One day they must become grownups and learn to fly on their own. They have to figure out how to find housing and pay bills and drive cars and get married and raise children of their own. </div>
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That means I only have eighteen short, precious years with them before they leave me forever. </div>
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And I am both so incredibly excited for that day and dreading it like a death sentence. All at the same time. </div>
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How can they leave me??? After EVERYTHING I've done for them??? </div>
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Although, I suppose it's better than, WHY WON'T THEY LEAVE??? WHAT HAVE I DONE WRONG? </div>
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They're beautiful and opinionated. And I want them to one day be successful in their own right. So I have to eventually let them go. I have to relinquish my control and hope that they really do know more than me. </div>
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But it will be okay if they come home too. </div>
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I might even do their laundry if they bring it. </div>
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And that's motherhood. The good, the bad, the ugly. But also, the oh, so beautiful. I love these kids. Even though they gave me split personalities and severe memory loss. I love them so much, I'm willing to keep living in these dichotomies, both sides of them. </div>
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I even love them enough to potty train them. </div>
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Rachelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17973308145047978707noreply@blogger.com0