What Does It Take To Win The Lottery?

Doesn’t it sound so easy? 

Just go out and buy a small paper ticket for three dollars, hardly enough to buy a gallon of gas these days, then poof! 

I too could be a millionaire.

Except we all live in the real world where adulting needs to happen and really winning the lottery looks like this:

Feel God is calling me to write a book

Get mad at God about the ridiculousness of that notion because I have five kids. Five! Where would I find the time?

What. The. Heck.

Get stubborn and decide to prove God wrong, that I can’t write a book, and start writing a book.

Realize after four months of writing for two hours once a week that I am in fact writing a book.

Freak out.

Finish writing a book in about nine months. How did this happen?

Sit for two weeks feeling like I am THE American Ninja Writing Warrior-mom for writing a book.

          Take a brief glance at what it takes to publish my awesomeness.

           Freak out.

Start editing book while I absorb the fact the average new writer writes five manuscripts before they ever publish even one.

Still editing.

How much time does it really take to edit?

Two months later ask friends to help me edit.

Start begging for friends to help me edit.

Join a local writer’s critique group.

Eight readers and six months later realize my manuscript will now be rejected in 15 seconds rather than 10.

Go to my first writer’s conference.

Fast forward one year. Still sneaking moments to write and realizing just how much work goes into a winning ticket.

We all wish people would throw money at us, that instant success we didn’t really earn. In order to win the writers-life lottery I have to give up another more sacred dream than my dream of being a published author.  

 

My real dream is this: 

  

Success doesn’t take work.

I’m about to head off to what will be my fourth writer’s conference, the Blue Ridge Christian Writer’s Conference, picking my way slowly toward my dream. By the law of averages I need to finish my two manuscripts-in-progress, and then start and finish another two manuscripts in the next four years before I maybe get that golden ticket: my first manuscript sale. The idea of the wait is daunting, but then so is the idea of the work involved.

These days with the shifting landscape of e-books, self-publishing, and print-on-demand writers can no longer afford to write the solitary novel while sitting in their introverted cave while dreaming up new universes.

These days being a writer means more than being a dreamer, it means being willing to work for a dream.

Being a writer means I have to go back to school, so to speak: The Writer’s Conference. Not just once. Nope. Again and again at $500-800 a pop.

Why? To learn to write better books. To learn how to edit my own work. To learn how to write 30 page reports on my books. To learn how sell myself. To learn how to turn my self and writing into a brand. To learn how to market. To learn…

To learn success isn’t instant and to decide if I am going to apply my stubborn strength to writing or give into my fears.

The easy path would be to sit at home and bemoan the entire writing industry that doesn’t recognize my obvious creative genius. 

Or I can take the road less traveled in walking miles of humility.

How much money has my family sacrificed for me to go back to writer’s schools? Five kids; for us that’s not extra money just lying around waiting for a use. Am I worth it? I’m scared to death of this next writers conference. Even after attending three conferences the idea of having my work critiqued makes my stomach drop and my hands shake. Will I take the extra steps to put myself out there despite my fear?

How patient am I? I have another 15 months of plodding along in my writing until my youngest is in kindergarten. We can’t afford day care for him, which is fine; I can work at enjoying what will be the only fourth year of life he will ever get and writing in stolen moments. Having two teenagers I know how fast this time of snuggles and belly laughs and tantrums and stomping his feet flies. Wait. Oh yeah, still living that last part with the olders.

Someday this time in my life of wanting to write more and not having the time will slowly melt into having the time and facing the discipline of daily writing. I’m sure I will look back with nostalgia at this year and think I had it easy.

Am I willing to give up my grass-is-greener lottery ticket mentality in order to face my future with courage?

Pray for me. I’ll let you know which path I chose after Blue Ridge.

What steps can you take in the next week to work toward your dream?

True Strength Is Kindness

I don’t know why we use the phrase “hot headed” to describe some people’s style when they get angry. From personal experience I can say my head isn’t the problem when I’m mad.

The phrase that would be more apt would be “full mouthed.”

Before I was diagnosed with breast cancer six years ago I didn’t consider memorizing parts or verses in the Bible my kind of thing. However, I found it immensely helpful both during treatment and the anxiety ridden “new normal” period afterward to more than have my Bible handy, to have it with me in my head.

One of the first verses I memorized was during the Lent I spent waiting for and undergoing a mastectomy:

“Rejoice in the Lord always. I say it again: rejoice! Your kindness should be known to all. The Lord is near.”

~Philippians 4:4-5

In treatment for the cancer I focused on finding joy in my day. I prayed for God to be close to my heart and to feel Jesus’ presence. 

Recently I have come back to these verses for another reason. “My kindness should be known to all.”

These verses have been striking me, am I known for my kindness? Do the people important to me know my kindness?

 

Does my husband know me as kind? Is that how he would describe me to his friends?

How about my kids? I don’t think they would put that word in the top ten words to describe their mother.

If not, then I am not close to The Lord. 

In the gospels (the sections of Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John in the Bible) it says Christians should be known by their love. And I think of myself as a loving person. But am I kind? Another version of the Bible uses the word gentle. Am I known for a kind and gentle love? Enough to be noted for it?

So. I’m back to another cliché phrase, “Think before you speak.” The problem for me is that phrase doesn’t tell me what to think about.

 

I DO think before I speak. I am thinking, “You hurt me. And now I’m mad.” Or, “Seriously! Stop bugging your brother/sister/the dogs/AND YOUR MOTHER!” (and now my three year old, 3!, has started saying, “Seriously!” in this interesting tone…)

Some of my most hurtful words have come, not when I’m mad, but when I haven’t considered the fullness of their meaning to the other person. And what is the point of speaking if the other is unintentionally, unhelpfully wounded?

A pastor friend gave this acronym to me after breast cancer treatment and I am taking it out and dusting it off. This is my resolution - to think of this before I speak:

T     - is it True?
H    - is it Helpful?
I      - is it Inspiring?
N    - is it Necessary?
K     - is it Kind?

I don’t knowingly speak lies or hearsay. But is what I say helpful to the other? Is that my goal in speaking, to help? Do the words I speak lift the other up in some way? If I am trying to educate my kids on some matter, is there a better way to phrase it -a way that would inspire instead of rebuke?

Is what is about to fall out of my mouth necessary? Does that person really need me to speak? Or am I trying to be the Holy Spirit and do the work of convicting. Because sometimes God just doesn’t do a good enough job?

It is not my job to be another person’s moral compass. To speak out in protection of another? -Yes. But are my words edifying the other in an effective manner?

If the above acronym isn’t applicable, then I either need to work on my delivery or be quiet.

My priest has challenged me to place notes around the house where I discipline the kids that say, “Be kind.”

Not because my kids don’t need correction. Not because I should provide less discipline or structure for them. But as a reminder my kids will be profoundly shaped by my tone, by my demeanor, by my word choice.

I don’t want my kids to forever remember something I said because of how much it wounded them. I want my legacy with my children to be love. I want my legacy with my kids to be: mom wasn’t perfect, but wow, a couple of times it felt like I was in the presence of God while she was speaking. Or: even if I was in trouble, I always felt accepted and valued by my mom.

As a parent I’m supposed to be one of the first and best teachers of my kids. Am I? Do I even try? Or worse, what exactly am I teaching them?

 

I don’t want my husband’s experience of marriage to be a wife who was often right but whom no one would describe as kind with the truth.

When I am not spending time with God I fall short. What I say might be true, but it’s not kind. Or it’s a thoughtless truth, which might be worse.

If I want my kids to be kind and compassionate human beings then it starts with me. With my words. With my shaping of the home environment.

It starts with joy. Always! And my kindness spread throughout the house and to my friends. A kindness possible because I have a deep well of compassion to draw from. A kindness that is experienced. That folks can taste and see that it is good.

So, I take walks on windy days and I sit, still and silent on my couch and pray. When I can’t sleep I get up, light a candle, and tell God about my day or about turning in another set of adoption paperwork and the boy I would like to call my son.

If I sit at the feet of a compassionate Jesus then I am able to act inside His strength: Joy and Kindness.

Do you have any special memory tricks or routines for being careful with your words?