The Crazy Life of a Writing Mom

How NOT to Tell Your Child About Maturation!

2013-05-23T11:45:00.002-04:00

"What's maturation?" my eleven-year-old Scribe asked me.
"Ur . . . Well . . ." Then I remembered, when in doubt, answer a question with a question. "Why, darling?" I asked, donning an awkward smile.
"My teacher says we're having a maturation class this week."
Oh. My. Gosh. I just knew I'd die. My own "maturation" lesson had been terrible. As a gangly youth--the tallest girl in my class--I was simply a twig with pimples. I laughed through the whole facts-of-life-speech. Then when I got home, I asked my mom, "What's sex?" My sister kindly volunteered to tell me. Thinking I'd already learned enough in school, she pulled out a college biology textbook and showed me something that looked like a funnel and something that looked like a test tube with veins.
"When these two beautiful things come together. A baby is made."

It seemed scientific AND confusing. And definitely NOT beautiful. Whatever the hell those things were, I hoped I'd never come across them in real life! Little did I know that--God forbid--I had one!
The Scribe brought me from my thoughts. "What is maturation?"
I had to distract her. "Your teacher finds out what's she's having soon, right? I bet she's so excited to be pregnant."
"Mom! Stop dodging the question."
What could I tell her? After all, being clueless once, I told my mom, "I can't believe each octopus has eight testicles." She turned so red that it looked like she'd eaten a frog!
"Tentacles, honey. Tentacles."
I shook my heard and turned to the Scribe. "Fine." I swallowed hard. "Maturation is when you get to find out where babies come from."
The Scribe thought for a moment. "I hope my teacher will be able to learn from the class. Since she's having a baby, I bet she'd love to know where it came from."
I busted with laughter. Is that how my mom felt when I'd had the tentacle conundrum in my youth?
"Mom, do you want to tell me before the class?" the Scribe asked.
Was that a good idea? Especially after my own experiences of not knowing. Like the time in Jr. High when a girl told me she swallowed something and thought she was pregnant. I just kept wondering, "Swallowed what?" It'd come from a funnel or a test tube--I just KNEW it! Or maybe she'd swallowed one of those birth control pills!
    So, maybe it would be better if I told the Scribe everything. "I'm not sure, babe."
    "I understand," she said. "I've heard you might want to check me out of school after the class. It can be pretty traumatic for the parents."
    I raised a brow. That's when I decided to give her "the talk." And apparently I suck at giving sex talks. Half-way through a realization dawned on the Scribe. She stared at me and yelled, "You've done this! YOU did this . . . and that's where I came from? Oh man! Man! And my teacher. . . . She's going to have a baby. Oh man!"
    That poor teacher. The maturation class is today. She might get a lot of accusing glares from the kids today.
    Anyway, now the Scribe knows I'm not a virgin--I guess you do too. But seriously--she didn't even like the tentacle story! Then this morning she refused to go to school, saying she never wants to see another boy again and that she never wants to have kids or to get married. She followed all of this up by saying I should've just showed her a funnel and a test tube!
    This too shall pass, but for right now, I really hate talking about the birds and the bees. At least the Scribe finally went to school. I'm meeting her around two for the official maturation class at school. Can the apocalypse happen right before this? Please? Because THAT would be easier to deal with.

    How did your first "sex talk" go when it was given to you or your kids?

I dated a guy in a wheelchair

2013-05-20T22:04:00.001-04:00

I dated a guy in a wheelchair. Yeah. I don't need any awards, not really. Plus, it was just one date. And I was hell-bent on making it a wonderful time for the guy. His legs didn't worked, but at least he had me. Part-way through the appetizer I decided I'd marry the guy.
    I didn't particularly like his personality, but he'd become paralyzed in an accident, so--what the heck--I'd sacrifice my life to entertain him.
I was sixteen. Smart enough to realize our marriage might not be that great--solely because my torso was longer than his. When we went to a movie later that night, he sat three inches shorter than me. I bent my giraffe-like neck, trying to rest my head on his shoulder. But his shoulder was far lower than mine, and after a while my crooked neck pulsed with pain.
    The movie looked weird sideways--but who cared--I was putting my head on this guy's shoulder 'cause he was in a wheelchair. My vision blurred. Blood went into my forehead and I nearly blacked out.
    We still didn't get along too well, but it was more romantic than dying in love's embrace. So I kinda grew teary-eyed, thinking how bad my neck hurt for love. Someday we'd get married. I'd be in a neck brace and he'd be in his wheelchair. Yeah.

When I was sixteen, I had the best intentions. It's a good thing the guy didn't marry me--the worst thing that could've happened to him. He may have been in a wheelchair, but I was the one with an underdeveloped brain.

Anyway, I thought about this memory and laughed out loud. Did you ever do something completely stupid when you were a teenager on a date?

Random Acts of Kindness Week #7--A Fisherman With Mike's Fishing Charters

2013-05-17T18:40:00.003-04:00

My dad and I decided to catch some fish. We got on the boat and introduced ourselves to the three-man crew. Captain Joaquin had a handshake I'll never forget. So much kindness and confidence shone in his eyes as he told us about his boat, Isabela, and how that particular day was Mother's Day in Mexico. The two other hands--who'd help us fish--quickly introduced themselves as Pablo, the captain's nephew, and Mariano.
After sailing farther into the open sea, the Mexican waters rumbled underneath us, making the boat rock left and right. The sun beat down and a few fish jumped out of the water in front of us, their scales sparkling like a frozen margarita I drank the night before.
As we skipped across the endless ocean, I sidled to Isabela's prow and instantly remembered a story I had told my daughter after my son passed away.

My Dad took this picture in that moment.

    “Why did he leave us, Mama? Why?” My daughter asked years ago. I couldn't believe how she could ask such hard questions, even at the age of four. She sniffled and I held her closer.
    “Hush,” I crooned as she clung to my arm.
    “I don't understand.” She cried hard. “Why didn't he wake up? Why did he go away?”
    I wanted to tell her it's because life is hard, because life isn't fair. It's because I couldn't keep my baby, no matter how hard I wanted to. But, even though I wished I could tell her all that, I didn't. I remained quiet for a long time. Then I cooed to her, sang into her golden curls. That's when I told her Zeke's story one more time.
    “Once, in a faraway land, there was a strange castle by the sea. In that castle lived some very special children named Ruby and Zeke.”
    “I like this story. Can Zeke stay with me this time?”
    “I wish he could, but that's not how the story goes.”
    She hesitated. “Well, then, I want to go with him.”
    That made my heart tighten. I hugged Ruby. I couldn't imagine her following her brother--couldn't comprehend losing her too.
    “Tell me the part about when the witch comes,” Ruby said.
    “Well, one day, a deadly, powerful witch found the castle. She was cunning and wise. She knew how amazing the children living there were, and that's when she decided to take one of you deep into the ocean.”
    “But I was too smart.”
    “Yes, you were,” I said. “You outwitted that witch.”
    “But Zeke?”
    “He had to go away.”
    “Why, Mama? Was it because the witch was too smart for him?”
    “Oh, no,” I said. I always had to breathe deeply when I got to that part. “Zeke let her take him.”
    “But why?”
    “Because he knew how to really defeat the witch. He knew if he went, he'd bring about her doom. You see, she thought she'd take his life, but he knew better. He knew that, if he went, he'd get to meet pirates, mermaids. He'd have sword-fights and battle sea creatures.” I looked at the cloudy sky. It reminded me of my conflicted emotions. Somehow, every time I told the story, I saw something symbolic to Zeke's months on Earth. “Adventure awaited him.” I sighed. “If he went with the deadly witch, then, and only then, could he truly live.”
I blinked the memory away and looked out at the glistening Pacific Ocean. Death can be terrible. I felt so alone then, wondering if anyone sailing in the ocean that day knew what it's like to lose a child. For a moment I wished someone on that boat could understand. Was I just hurting because it was Mother's Day? And why was I still hurting about something that happened so many years ago? I stood straight and told myself to knock it off! "God," I silently willed Him to help me celebrate life that wonderful day in Mexico, "please let something amazing happen." As I prayed we cruised into an entire army of birds. They dive-bombed the water's surface, cawing and splashing. I thought one might poop on me. I couldn't help laughing--was this God's idea of irony?
Then Captain Joaquin suddenly yelled and pointed. "Ballena! Ballena! Delfíns!" I looked to the side of the boat and saw two humpback whales and a group of dolphins.
My dad ran up next to me and we could hardly believe our good fortune. Whale watching season had ended two months before--yet a mother and baby swam right by the boat on Mother's Day!
   Then it was Mariano's turn to yell with excitement. "We've hooked two big fish!"

My dad and I started reeling them in. With Pablo and Mariano's expert help, we were able to pull them in rather quickly.

My dad is such a Viking--he makes fishing for forty pounders look easy.

That gift wasn't genetic!

Here are some fish we caught.

Well, I bet you're wondering what this has to do with random acts of kindness. It's all because of the crew, especially Mariano.

Whatever fish are given to Mariano, he gives to people in need. We caught ten big tuna, and he planned to give them to Mothers on Mother's Day. He knew one woman in particular who'd just had a baby and couldn't find a job. He hoped a large fish like that would help them for quite a while.

He laughed and joked with my amazing father. Then it was my turn; I told him how I'm an author and how I wrote a fantasy story about pirates and mermaids--about a boy who went deep into the ocean. "I'm writing the sequel," I confided, "and I think the three of you might end up as pirates!"

He laughed so hard.

I thought again about Zeke and decided it had been so silly to wonder earlier if anyone sailing the ocean that Mother's Day knew what it's like to lose a child. Why had I been sad when so much joy was waiting there the whole time?

It wasn't until later, when we were about to say goodbye, that Mariano pulled me aside. He said he felt like telling me something; that's when he shared the story of his courageous daughter who'd bravely fought cancer before she went to Heaven at the age of fourteen. "Hard times can happen," he said, "but they happen for a reason."

I wanted to hug him. A load lifted from my heart. He smiled, seeming like he knew exactly how I felt. He was a kindred spirit, an amazing fisherman, and a generous soul.

It was the most wonderful fishing trip ever. I'm heading over to Tripadvisor HERE to leave a special review for Mike's Fishing Charters. I'm taking Janie Junebug's lead on this one, and asking for you to help me with this week's act of kindness. If you have time, would you go leave a positive review for Mariano, Pablo and Joaquin--the fishermen who made my father's and my vacation even more wonderful than I'd dreamed of.

Here's that direct link if you need it: http://www.tripadvisor.com/Attraction_Review-g150793-d2446348-Reviews-Mike_s_Fishing_Charter-Puerto_Vallarta_Pacific_Coast.html

Thank you!

Also, check out the Random Acts of Kindness Blogfest HERE.

I'd love if you'd join up.

We ran into a crocodile in Mexico!

2013-05-16T20:22:00.001-04:00

Here are some pictures from our vacation. Tomorrow, I'll write about a fisherman in Puerto Vallarta who blessed my life.

Top Row: Cade, Me, My Mom, My Dad Middle Row: The Hippie, The Scribe Bottom Row: Dr. Jones, The Zombie Elf Before breakfast at the resort. Yep, my mom put her glasses on the Zombie Elf. He's a ham!
A crocodile we saw. See it down below? It heard the baby crying and swam right over to us!~ These statues at the Grand Mayan in Puerto Nuevo were well over fifty feet tall. I LOVED this--it made me realize how small my problems really are. Doctor Jones
The Scribe took this of my new dress from downtown Puerto Vallarta. It had chocolate stains on it, so I got it for 1/2 price! Yahoo for chocolate. Too bad all of the stains didn't come out--they're pretty hard to see though. I'll be writing more about this tomorrow. Wait 'til you see what else my dad and I caught! The Scribe caught a lizard. No wonder she's friends with all the boys at school!

Cade and the babies are so much fun! I'll write about the fisherman tomorrow. Have a great night.

Random Acts of Kindness Week #6--My Late Son's Birthday & a Miraculous Angel

2013-05-10T06:26:00.000-04:00

Zeke Jackson was born on 11/18. At the end of January the following year, he died in my arms.

Zeke would have been ten years old.
I'll never forget him or the lessons he taught me.

This post is written for the

Random Acts of Kindness Blogfest
Click HERE to sign up.

A Miraculous Angel

The computer tech reminded me of a young version of Mr. Miyagi, wise and reassuring. At the quaint computer store, Miyagi Jr. quietly accessed my laptop and said he could fix it immediately and be done within a half hour. So I waited and before realizing what happened, that man gave my four kids candy--we joked and laughed about life--my mood AND the mood of the store changed, becoming brighter.

When it came time to pay, he wouldn't let me. "This is on me," he said.

"You have to let me pay," I said. "Look at all the work you've done."

He eyed me thoughtfully, stroking his long goatee. I thought he might see straight through me. Maybe he'd understand that something rested beyond my joking and laughter. Zeke's birthday was fast approaching and I didn't want to feel the ache that day always brings.

Miyagi Jr. nodded and said, "There's a pizza place around the corner. A man always works there at this time. If you'd really like to thank me, go order a pizza and visit with the man who's working there. Visit with him just like you visited with me."

Visit with the man? It sounded strange. What could he possibly mean? It was my turn to study him. "All right," I finally said, then grabbed my youngest kids' hands and stepped toward the door.

Just as the bell rang above the exit and I walked outside, I heard another tech ask Mr. Miyagi, "Are you sure you should send her over there? You know what happens when some people go there when he's workin--" The door shut and I didn't hear another word.

"Mama, where are we going now?" my four-year-old son asked as I buckled him in his seat.

I inhaled a big breath. "Well, that nice man wouldn't let me pay. So we're going to buy him a pizza."

The pizza place was tucked back at the edge of a dilapidated parking lot. People swarmed to other businesses around, but no one went to the forlorn restaurant.

"You stay in the car. Keep an eye on the babies," I told my oldest daughters.

"Mom, are you sure you should go? This whole thing sounds weird," my second-oldest daughter said.

"I'm just getting a pizza. The computer tech needs to get something for all of his hard work." I turned music on for the kids, stepped from the car and locked the black doors.

The pizza place didn't have tables, chairs or benches. But the spotless counter gave me a good impression. As the smell of fresh breadsticks wafted toward me, my insides warmed with childhood memories. I stepped forward and rang the metal bell.

"Hello?" I said. "Hello?" Someone moved in the shadows at the far end of the kitchen.

A man lumbered forward. At first I couldn't see his face because he'd turned it down and away.

"Those breadsticks smell amazing!" I said. Then he fully turned toward me and I gasped.

The left side of his face was so handsome. He had a striking brown eye and perfectly dark skin. But the other side of his face drooped and bulged. The forehead on his right side stretched a fist taller than the rest of his face. His right eye couldn't open, nestled below his nose.

Click the picture for more information about how to help people with this condition.

"What do you want?" he mumbled.

I nearly cried, feeling so badly for gasping seconds before. I blinked hard, collecting myself, and instantly donned a smile.

"How are you today?" I asked brightly.

"I'm . . . all right," he said, turning so I only saw his profile. "And you?"

"I'm having a fantastic day. I went to that computer repair place over there. They fixed my computer for free. So I'd like to order a large peperoni pizza for them."

His curious eye darted toward mine. "They've been very good to me as well." His words came out slowly and cautiously.

I wanted to make an impact, then. But how? I could have told him that my first son had birth defects. Explain how Zeke had a cleft lip and palate. My stomach knotted, remembering how I'd wanted Zeke to be born perfect, live a good life, and die long after I did. I looked at the pizza man and wondered for the millionth time, why do birth defects exist?

But instead of talking about Zeke, Miyagi Jr.'s words drifted into my mind. Visit with him just like you visited with me.

So I shot the bull with him as he made the pizza. I told jokes about how I worked at a pizza place once. "When I was on the clock, they were always running out of pineapple," I said. "It's my weakness, really."

"I know what you mean," he mumbled, then laughed. "I always eat the pineapple too. It's a good weakness though."
"Agreed."

When he finished the peperoni-extra-cheese, he came over to the counter. "Don't worry about bringing this to them. I'll bring it for you and tell them an angel bought them lunch."

I've been a lot of things, but I've never been someone's angel. As I gazed into the man's eye, I thought of how hard I try doing everything right--so I can see my son in Heaven. But I never feel good enough. Tears welled in my eyes and I couldn't look away from the man. No. I wasn't an angel, he was--smiling and laughing despite his lot in life. It could take years to learn what that man had suddenly taught me about gratitude.

I lingered because so much kindness shone from his deep, dark eye. "Thank you. You have yourself a wonderful day," I said, turning to leave.

Just as I pushed the door open, he stopped me. "Wait," he said, and I turned. "Thanks for coming in here today. It's a cruel world out there, but people like you make it a better place."

I held the door open for a minute longer. "Not people like me," I said. "Wonderful people like you." I smiled one last time. "Hey, enjoy the pineapple, it is the best part of working at a pizza place."

"I will," he promised and I left the store.

As I drove home, clouds grayed the sky overhead. The sun shone brightly in the east, shedding light even through the storm. I told my kids the story. "I don't know who was more of an angel, the pizza man or Miyagi Jr."

"Mom, you haven't said a word about the guy's face. I saw him through the window. Didn't you notice something was really wrong with him?"

There hadn't been a reason to mention his physical defects. "He was born with problems like Zeke was. But just like Zeke, he was beautiful inside. It makes me wonder though. . . . Why do you think the computer tech sent me to the pizza place?" I asked my oldest daughter.

"Maybe he realized you treat everyone with the same kindness no matter what. That says a lot about you, Mom."

"No," I sniffled. "It says a lot about him."

I pulled off and parked on the side of the road after that. I got out and looked into the storming sky. I thought about my book The Golden Sky--the book about how God and Zeke changed my perception--how sometimes beauty comes right after the storms of life.
As I gazed at the widening clouds, a raindrop fell on my nose and somehow I felt like Zeke was looking down on me, beaming.

If you're reading this it means that I've successfully scheduled a post. Yahoo! I'm in Mexico right now and will be back just after Mother's Day. Have an awesome week.

-Elisa

Random Acts of Kindness Week #5--A Miraculous Blessing From Little Caesars' Corporate Office

2013-05-03T05:30:00.000-04:00

Something amazing happened on Wednesday.
Let me explain . . .

Do you remember when I wrote about this:

Random Acts of Kindness Week #2 -- Little Caesars Harlem Shake

Well, this Wednesday, I checked Wayman Publishing's mailbox and Little Caesars sent me two $20.00 Little Caesars gift cards and the sweetest letter! I started crying after I read it. The guy (from a Michigan office) found my post and decided to pay it forward. He asked me to give one $20 card to someone else--I'll tell you about that in a minute--and to keep the other one to use for my family. I'm still in shock. I LOVE Little Caesars!
Here's the letter they sent to me:

So I was really excited,and I decided to tell the wonderful man who normally works mornings at that US Post Office.
John is an amazing man. He always treats everyone with respect and helps however he can. He's very efficient and because of him, and the other awesome employees there, I drive to another city, just so I can go to that post office.
As I told John about the letter from Little Caesars, I immediately realized that I should give one of the gift cards to him. I smiled thinking how the last two times I've tried to give random gifts to "strangers," the recipients both ended up being people who'd been kind to me in the past! (Remember the flowers and the Barnes & Noble Gift Card?)
John seemed excited about the gift card. I hope he knows how much all of the customers appreciate his kindness and thoughtfulness.

Well, I'm leaving to Mexico this week. But I'll still have something posted next Friday--a past Random Act of Kindness that blessed my heart.

Check out the Random Acts of Kindness Blogfest HERE.

I'd love if you'd join up.

Other big news?

My humorous novella/audiobook, "How to Avoid Having Sex," was just featured on CBS News HERE

And FOX News: HERE

I'm floating on air!

What a wonderful week.

Have you ever fought over which television show to watch with your spouse?

2013-04-29T09:44:00.000-04:00

HGTV and Me By John Hartnett
My wife loves the HGTV Network. It stands for Home and Garden
Television, and in our one TV household, there is nothing more deflating for me than walking into the living room on a Friday night,
all set to cuddle up with the Mrs. while watching an On Demand movie and see that I am too late.
I am too late because my wife is already engrossed in the heart
rending story of a desperate couple from Pacific Palisades, CA, who suddenly find themselves struggling against all odds to find the
perfect pied-à-terre in Barcelona -- and by perfect they mean a
pied-à-terre that doesn't cost one penny more than their modestly
budgeted $1.7 million but absolutely must have a minimum of six walk in closets, an indoor lap pool that recedes into a wall when not in use, a 600 sq. ft. balcony with eight-foot railings for their rescued
Bengal tiger, Shoshona, an unobstructed view of the Mediterranean and a garage door that folds up like an accordion, but vertically.
Yes, I'm jealous. I want somebody from HGTV to help me fix up my home or help me find a new one.

I've entered every contest they've offered. Nothing. It's probably my fault for posting real photos. If the Joads had passed by my house on their way to California, Ma would have stopped their jalopy long enough to say to her kids, "See that? I told you there's always somebody else worse off than you."
     My house needs work, there's no getting around it, but we have a DIY budget and no DIY skills. My entire family possesses the manual dexterity of a scallop. To put it in perspective, while attempting to check in to a Marriot Courtyard Suites in Crossville, TN, it took 27 minutes to get all five of us through the revolving door and into the lobby.
     So why does my wife love HGTV so much? Because every program is essentially the tile and backsplash equivalent of Cinderella or the Ugly Duckling story and because women crave instant transformation projects that work out, as opposed to instant transformation projects that don't -- namely those involving their husbands.
     So anyway, it's Friday night and here I sit while my wife moves from "House Hunters International" to a taped episode of "Property Brothers", a show about identical twins with well defined biceps who work with couples to purchase absolute hovels at below market prices, fix them up without exceeding the couple's budget and then mop up the tears of joy that the ecstatic new owners shed after receiving a tour of their newly renovated dwelling and fully comprehending that they have entered the homeowner's equivalent of Heaven, assuming Heaven has
bleached pine flooring and a fenced in yard large enough for an
energetic Jack Russell Terrier named Maxie.
     I'm doing the best I can to get into the show and trying really hard not to say something disparaging about the young woman homeowner whose skepticism that it will all work out is starting to grate on my nerves, but even with a nice glass of wine in front of me, it's impossible.
     First of all, I can't get the thought out of my head that for all the
contests I've entered and never won, everyone over at HGTV must be scared to death to even set foot in my house, let alone fix something, and secondly, the plots of these shows are All. The. Same.
     If I ran HGTV, I'd produce a home renovation remodeling show that would appeal to everybody because in each episode, in addition to seeing a house get all fixed up, there would be a murder. The police, detectives and the FBI would swoop in and park all over the lawn and on top of insulation, drywall and recently spray-painted coffee tables with sunflower stencils on each corner.
     They'd investigate everything and everyone, dust for prints, take
blood samples, put up yellow tape in places where the paint wasn't dry yet, drag the stars of the show, the homeowners, contractors laborers and nosy neighbors downtown for questioning and snicker when the kitchen designer bursts into tears and tries to explain that the reason she can't possibly stand in a lineup today is because she still has 67 linear feet of kitchen cabinets to prep and sand before Monday noon!
     Wouldn't that be exciting and literally twice as suspenseful? Not
only would the audience have to worry whether someone was going to be arrested, flee the country, kill again or get the electric chair, they would have to worry about whether the house would be completed on time and on budget and meet the owner's expectations, assuming the owners weren't the ones who were doing the murdering.
     I'm going to apply for a job there and see if I can shake things up. If HGTV won't remake my house, maybe I can remake HGTV. And restore my Friday nights to their original condition.

© 2013 The Monkey Bellhop and John Hartnett

Monkey Bellhop Site
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John Hartnett's Amazing Book:

Click the pic to see it on Amazon

Barber's Conundrum FB Page

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Random Acts of Kindness Week #4--A Man at Barnes & Noble

2013-04-26T13:21:00.004-04:00

This week, a friend and I decided to visit a local Barnes and Noble to do something nice for a stranger. We talked about various things. Paying for an order before or after us. Buying someone's coffee in the coffee shop. Purchasing a beloved book and giving it to a stranger in the store. All the ideas were fun, but they didn't feel quite right in this instance.

As we walked around, I remembered last April. My first big signing was only a year ago at that same Barnes & Noble. It's amazing what's happened since then. I've talked at dozens of schools and been to many signings anywhere from coffee shops, books stores, fairs, schools, restaurants and libraries.
Here are some pictures from Barnes & Noble at my first big signing:

That signing is one of the best memories I have. The employees were so kind. They printed posters about my books and put them all over the store. At the signing, they brought drinks to Cade and me. One of the employees even went above and beyond, visiting with us, making us feel important as he bought our CD. He even let Cade and me play music inside the B & N store!

     After walking around for a while the other day, my friend and I stood in line. I joked with the cashier. She hadn't been there last year. A few members of their staff had changed; they even hired new managers.
    While purchasing the gift card, I glanced at someone who sidled behind us in line. I couldn't wait to give him the gift card. Sure we could have left it with the cashier and had her give it to the guy, but for some reason I felt like giving it to him myself.
After buying the gift card and receipt, my friend and I immediately turned to the man behind us. "This is for you," I said. Then I caught his eyes fully and gasped. He was the kind employee who'd helped me at the signing last year. He's the one who let us play music in the store. He's the one who kept bringing us drinks before buying our CD!
"Why?" he asked, and I'm sure he didn't recognize me.
"We're doing random acts of kindness, trying to spread some joy."
Then we left. And I keep wondering about the odds of that man being in line behind us? Does he still work at Barnes & Noble? I'm still not sure if he recognized me, but I hope he knows how thankful I am for everything he did for Cade and me last year. Writing can be hard, sharing everything with the world, getting rejections, or negative feedback. But people like him--and you--have really inspired me to keep going through this writing journey.

Isn't it strange that for the last two acts of kindness I've wanted to give something to strangers, but they've both ended up being people who've already blessed my life? Here's the previous story if you'd like to read it: Flowers for a Stranger

Maybe it just proves that what goes around does come around....

I've vowed to do a random act of kindness (and write about it) once a week until the end of May--when the R.A.K. Blogfest starts.

Please check out the blogfest HERE.

I'd love if you'd join up.

P.S. Cade and I are giving away $50 for Mother's Day. Feel free to take a second to enter HERE if you have time.

Yahoo! My First Audiobook was just Released and it's on iTunes!

2013-04-25T05:30:00.000-04:00

Yep, How to Avoid Having Sex is now an audiobook, available on iTunes and Amazon. Allie Mars did an AMAZING job narrating it--you can listen to a sample HERE by visiting the link and clicking under the picture on Amazon!

    I have to say that I loved writing this book. It was hilarious trying out different "theories about avoiding sex" on Cade. Too bad he caught on and starting trying them on me too! And now that he knows what I was up to, I can never use these wonderful ideas again--like fake sleeping, mock-anger, grieving over stupid things, etc.
But even funnier than that, is the man who asked if this was first published over thirty years ago. "No," I said. "Why?"
"Because if it was, I think my wife read it and took it to heart."
   Another woman bought a copy at a signing and immediately hid it under her jacket as she looked around, making sure no one saw her purchase. Is this novella like booze? Should I sell it with a small paper bag?
   Anyway, I had a ball writing this book since the material is mostly silly, almost meant to be a joke. But the irony is that all of these ideas can actually work.

Have fun avoiding sex and otherwise.
~E

P.S. Last night I gave my kids massages and facials because they cleaned the house. We used apples since we didn't have cucumbers. Anyway that baking soda mask really works. It's just two parts baking soda, one part water. :) I LOVE these pictures. And I hope this will inspire my kids to clean the house more often!

P.P.S. Cade and I are giving away $50 for Mother's Day. Feel free to take a second to enter HERE if you have time.

Mother's Day Celebration

2013-04-23T17:15:00.001-04:00

Enter for a chance to win $50

and check out some newly released books!

Wayman Publishing has joined VoiceBoks and The Social Media Panel to promote this giveaway and feature some of our newly released books!

Also, check out these eBooks--

each less than a dollar!

Don't forget that if you buy any of Wayman's books, you can be entered to win an iPad Mini!

More details HERE!

Amazon.com Widgets

Here's how to enter for the PayPal Cash Wayman Publishing is giving away for Mother's Day. It's open internationally so anyone can enter to win.

a Rafflecopter giveaway

Have a wonderful day and don't forget to check out other participating bloggers who are also giving away great prizes and cash HERE.

What is True Beauty?

2013-04-21T06:30:00.000-04:00

    I stood amidst a huge crowd. So many people clustered there, shuffling around. "Where are we?" I asked one man who remained stretching.
    "We're getting ready to race," he yelled above the commotion, obviously shocked I didn't already know what went on. "It's time to pick your partner, or decide if you want to make it on your own. I'm making my own way." He pointed ahead. "That's the only way to win."
    The mountainous road in front of us looked tragic, with bumps and potholes. Almost everyone wore running shoes and shorts. I looked down; I wore them as well. What seemed strange, though, was the fact that we were spirits, not flesh.
    My heart suddenly beat fast. The trail ahead said something simple, something terrifying. "The Race of Life," I read the fading words. "If you so desire, pick your partner before you get a body."
    I closed my eyes and wondered, was I meant to race alone? If not, I needed to find someone to run with--and fast--the race was about to start. I mulled over the crowd, and grew frantic all the while.
    One man approached me, but I knew he didn't have what it would take. My arms pushed past him and moved along. Who could I race with? They needed to have similar goals, similar ways of thinking. They would have to be fun and inventive. A hard worker, a good father if we ended up having children.
"We'll race in ten minutes!" a voice boomed.
    About a million girls circled around a handsome spirit. He beamed from the attention and I wondered over the sight. I finally crouched on one knee. It was useless, the spirit I searched for probably didn't exist. I needed someone who would help me finish the race and not just run it.
    I tied one of my running shoes and prayed, "God, I'm scared to get a body. I'm scared to live. What if I stumble and fall? What if I forget your power and your love? What if I make terrible choices?"
Tears came to my eyes because it was scary. I was about to leave the comfort around me, the peace of seeing God's face in Heaven's eternity.
    Many of the people around pulsed with anxiety as well. I wondered how they would fair. Would even one of us succeed? I stood tall then, dusted the dirt from my running shorts, put my hair in a ponytail and got ready to run.
Hundreds of people had already paired with each other, but I remained alone, refusing to be nervous any more.
    Sure, I could lose almost everything, but I refused to lose my faith.
    I bent forward. The journey would be hard. I could make it on my own, though--I had to. At any minute the whistle would blow, and so much depended on the race.
My breath slowed in concentration as I studied the wide road ahead. Then a hand touched my shoulder and I turned.
    A spirit stood beside me--an amazing spirit. "I'm Cade," he whispered, and with those simple words, I knew I'd met my match.
"I've been looking for you," I said.
"And I've always been looking for you." He held my hand, making me feel truly beautiful and complete, truly worth something despite anything that might happen on Earth. "Are you ready for this?" he asked, smirking.
"You bet I am," I winked and that's when the whistle blew.

Happy 12th anniversary, Cade! I love you.

Random Acts of Kindness Week #3--Flowers for a Stranger

2013-04-19T11:55:00.000-04:00

The kids and I bought a bouquet of flowers. It didn't cost much, but it sure looked amazing with pinks and oranges amongst baby's breath.

We vowed to give it to the first woman we saw outside. My four kids and I listened to rock music as we drove around for a while this morning before school.
"School's startin' soon," the Scribe (my eleven-year-old) said. "I hope we'll see someone quick." She was so excited to give the flowers away. I thought of what a prankster she can be, yet what a sweetheart. She's the same kid who put fake cat poop on her teacher's chair, but the same girl who held our Labrador forever after the vet put her to sleep.
As we searched for the right person to give the flower to, the Hippie, my eight-year-old, prayed despite the fact that I never bring her to church. Some things must come naturally.
Maybe her prayer worked, because right after that, the Scribe spotted a woman checking a metal business mailbox. "That's her! She's The One!"
The "mailbox checker" may have laughed at that statement; it sure cracked the Hell outta me. I'd like being called "The One."
    "She looks so sad, checking all those letters," the Hippie said, drawing me from my thoughts.
    "Bet those letters are bills," the Scribe said.
I pulled up to the curb and stopped the van. "I'll be right back, kids. Stay put. Just watch through the windows."
I ran up to the woman, because being stealthy isn't one of my gifts. As I ran closer, the woman looked a bit shaken. Note to self: if I'm gonna keep doing these random acts of kindness, I need to work on my approach.
So many thoughts went through my mind. Was she a nurse? She wore scrubs. Was she really worried about a scrawny, boobless white girl hurting her? And lastly, why did she look so damn terrified AND sad?
"These are for you!" I sputtered, holding the flowers toward her. Then I had to bend over and catch my breath. I started laughing really hard because the whole thing seemed hopelessly ridiculous. It was freezing and my breath drifted out in these huge wafts. The woman's eyebrows knitted in confusion. "Sorry." I smiled, standing up straight. "My kids and I are trying to do a random acts of kindness once a week. I know it sounds crazy. I got these special. . . . These flowers are for you."
I held them out to her again and after a moment her eyes sparkled. She hugged that bouquet so tenderly. "Really?"
"Yep. Well, see ya!"
I turned and sprinted back to the van.
"She's so happy," the kids squealed, watching the woman walk behind a gray-brick building. Even my three-year-old seemed excited.
The traffic was terrible and I swear we waited at the stop sign for longer than Methuselah lived.
Then as we turned, the Scribe pointed in astonishment. "She's a vet. Look! She's on the other side of the building. Holding those flowers."
The woman, still beaming, opened a vet hospital's door and walked inside. My heart stopped as I looked at the vet hospital. We'd been there before, years ago with our beautiful Labrador.
"And ya know. She kind of looks familiar," the Scribe said, confirming my thoughts.
I had to blink away the tears because in that moment I realized who the woman was; she's the same person who selflessly helped console the Scribe the day our Labrador passed away.

Closing:

I've vowed to do a random act of kindness (and write about it) once a week until the end of May--when the R.A.K. Blogfest starts.    Please check out the blogfest HERE. I'd love if you'd join up.

I Went Skydiving With Edward Cullen and Jim Croce

2013-04-18T10:19:00.001-04:00

Sunday is my 12th wedding anniversary. We're going to the mummy exhibit and everything. I know what you're thinking! "Mummies? Is that romantic?" Well, it'll be interesting and that's what our anniversaries always are. Remember two years ago when Cade took me skydiving? It was AWESOME!
They paired Cade with Jim Croce--a man who died in a plane crash, and me with a guy who I thought looked like my version on Edward Cullen. I’m not a huge Twilight fan--let me send that thought in the wind. I thought Edward was obsessive, overbearing, controlling. If I could pick one literary character to NOT go skydiving with, it would be him or Captain Ahab! There’s something about jumping from a plane--with a vamp--it doesn’t bode well. It’s like facing death TWICE!

To top things off, my cameraman looked like a preacher I used to know. It wasn’t until the video guy started dropping the “F” bomb that I questioned his faith.
    “Are you related to any pastors?” I asked the “F Bomber.”
    “No.”
    “Well, you look like a very successful one I used to know . . . You could probably make a good living, if you held services before people jump.”
    He laughed so hard. “Even though I swear a lot.”
    “You could still do awesome. Pass around an offering plate, tell people this might be their last moment and you’ll be golden!”
    I watched a few people jump before me. When my turn came, that’s when I finally got nervous. This is just a dream, I closed my eyes and instead of jumping, I just leaned into the wind like when I let go of Zeke’s ashes.
    I kept my eyes closed for a couple seconds of the sixty-second free fall. It was beautiful! I was a bird--that had no wings and couldn’t fly--but still I was a freakin’ bird!!! That’s when I opened my eyes and forgot about everything except God’s beauty. My cheeks flapped as I thought about how my teeth might freeze and then fall from my face. The world looked beautiful from up there in the frigid--teeth chattering weather. I almost cried thinking about God’s awesomeness and the fact that a little spit dribbled from the side of my mouth and probably into my instructor’s face.
    After he pulled the shoot, he let me do a few turns and then we landed. I ran up to Cade and hugged him. “You jumped with Jim Croce and you survived! That was sooo awesome!"     We started walking toward the hanger and I turned to Cade. “Were you nervous? Did you have a hard time jumping?”
    “You wanna know the truth?”
    I nodded.
    “We got up there, and something with the pressure or something. Anyway, I was strapped to Croce, who could hardly speak English and all the sudden I had to . . .” Cade looked around and whispered, “I had to fart.”
    “Oh my gosh!” I giggled so hard.
    “Well, I held it, until I had to jump from the plane, and I think it gave me an extra boost.”
    “So you abandoned the plane AND a bad fart?” I laughed so hard, my side hurt. And I couldn't help wondering, did the fart stay in the plane after Cade jumped? So many people waited to jump after us. If they would've died, would that smell been one of their last memories from life?
    When we walked back to the counter, an instructor pulled me aside and said, “Kevin told me that normally skinny girls are hard to dive with because they end up being so light, gravity will flip the both of you upside down. But he said you went out of that plane easier than any skinny girl he’s dove with and it was one of the best tandem jumps he’s made.”     That made me grin.     “You’re a natural,” he said. “You shocked me today, and you’re a natural.”     So, I did it. I’m a natural faller. Me and gravity . . . We get along.

To celebrate our anniversary, Bible Girl & the Bad Boy is only 99 cents. It's the story of how I met Cade and ran away to Hawaii. You can check that out HERE.

Also If you want to see part of the jump, here's the video. If you watch any of it, watch 3:42--it still makes me smile.

Congrats to Brandon Ax: A Cover Reveal

2013-04-17T05:30:00.000-04:00

Congrats to Brandon Ax, whose book will be published on 4/20!
Here's some info about it.

The car pulled into my apartment complex and I heard Mrs. Watts tell her friend to hold on, “Well thanks for all the help with the yard, guess I will see you Saturday,” she said smiling.
     “Oh, it was no problem, glad to help. Thanks for the ride,” I climbed out and started making my way up to my door. The parking lot was dark, the lights around my building had gone out a week ago and no one had seen fit to fix them yet. I guess seeing wasn't part of their living accommodations. Situating my book bag I looked around. I was alone except for an older woman walking her dog. I nodded to her as I headed for the stairs. No sooner had my foot touched the first step when I began to feel this revulsion like something was crawling on my skin. Out of instinct I turned and looked behind me.
     Leaning against one of the broken light poles was a man. I couldn't make out his face as it was covered in shadows, but fear shot through me like a bullet. My body felt frozen, I knew I should run, but it felt like doing so would set everything back into action. I tried to will my foot back onto the step.
     “Hello pretty,” the dark man said in a haunting voice that chilled to the bone.
     My voice shook as I formed the words, “Who are you?” It felt stupid, but nothing had come to mind. I managed to get my foot back on the step.
     He stepped from the pole and said, “Me? I’m no one. You though? You are something special, in fact you’re so special I have a feeling I’d like to take you home with me.”
     I turned and ran knowing it wouldn't be fast enough. I felt him grab my shirt from behind and push me to the metal stairs below. I kicked out and struggled to pull myself from his hold. A gust of wind rushed past me, it blew my hair wildly and I was free.
     Not waiting to see what happened I scrambled up the steps and quickly unlocked the door. Slamming it behind me I slid down with the cold white wood to my back. My breath came in quick gasp, I felt my whole body shaking. What was that, why did he let go? I quickly stood up peering through the peephole in the door. No one was outside. Putting my ear to the wood I tried to listen for any sound that would lead me to believe he was still out there.
     After a few seconds I backed away from the door and sat in one of the chairs by the table. I had just calmed my thundering heartbeat when the handle of the door started to twist. I scrambled for anything I could find to defend myself with, settling on a picture frame that was on the wall next to me. As the door opened I drew back ready to swing with every ounce of my strength.

Tender Mercies

2013-04-16T14:59:00.002-04:00

A friend from grade school recently read The Golden Sky and messaged me on facebook with these two words:

Tender Mercies

I sat, reading those words and I realized that's what this journey has been, since releasing Zeke's story. The people I've met, the lives his story has touched. Yes, Zeke died, but I feel as if his little life is still blessing mine.

I recently decided to have The Golden Sky produced as an audiobook. I knew whoever narrated this memoir would have to be a powerful, empathetic reader. I listed the book and looked for narrators. Days went by, and I hoped for the best. I listened to many auditions for various books, the whole time wondering who would eventually be the voice of Zeke's Story.

When Alexandra G. Haag sent in the initial audition, I was blown away. The sheer emotion in the woman's voice broke my heart. She was exactly who I wanted--who I needed--to narrate Zeke's book. While listening, tears streamed down my face. And I wondered what Ms. Haag's story was for her to read the text so perfectly.

Ms. Haag and I both committed to a contract for The Golden Sky to be an audiobook. It wasn't until after everything was set in stone that I really understood how special this project would be. Ms. Haag sent me this message:

Hello, Elisa,

I am so pleased to be asked to narrate The Golden Sky. My first born child died at the age of ten weeks and, while my circumstances were different from yours, the resulting grief was also a blast to the heart. I pray that my narration is a blessing to you and your fans.
Sincerely,
Alexandra

This gave me chills, just knowing that our angel babies are up in Heaven, probably watching us work on this project together. Somehow I had this overwhelming feeling that this was meant to be.

It was terrible losing a child and trying to think of anything that might lessen the pain. But for Zeke's story to bless so many others. And now for another mother, from similar circumstances, to be working on this project with me, well it's heartrending. And it's another example of a tender mercy.

I'm really looking forward to this audio. I hope it will help many others who are struggling to deal with grief.

For more information about Zeke, please go HERE.

That's a lot of sticks!!!

2013-04-15T13:54:00.003-04:00

A quick note for today.

Our neighbors just cut down their tree and quite a bit of the branches fell in our yard.
With how much our dog likes sticks... Well, she thinks this is her birthday. She keeps grabbing one, then dropping it for a bigger one--and a bigger one!
Poor husky. That's a lot of sticks!!!

The neighbor will be helping me clean this up later today. I'm soooo thankful!

For a silly post about Luna, please go HERE.

Also, if you want to listen to my radio interview from last Friday, here's the podcast:

Have a great day!

Random Acts of Kindness Week #2 -- Little Caesars Harlem Shake

2013-04-11T21:19:00.002-04:00

Random Acts of Kindness Week #2

It all started on Wednesday. That was one of the best days of my life. Wayman Publishing was featured on many websites including CBS, ABC, and FOX News. I just sat at my kitchen table, completely floored. I work so hard for Wayman, hardly making anything, and suddenly it's starting to succeed! I kept visiting the websites, speechless.
Well, I finally decided to take a break and check the mail--guess what was in my mailbox? Look!

After getting this, I couldn't control my excitement anymore. I bawled, so overwhelmed with gratitude for life, for kind people--for you. I still have no idea who sent this, but it means the world to me.
Even though it was for our clunker (that I wrote about HERE), I couldn't keep the money. I instantly decided to pay it forward.

Recap: I've vowed to do a random act of kindness (and write about it) once a week until the end of May--when the R.A.K. Blogfest starts.

Well, this is what I did today with the generous, anonymous gift.

In northern Utah there's a man who makes everyone smile. Ray, better known as the "Little Caesars Dancing Man," works tirelessly, always happy, always kind to strangers.
And he's quite talented too.

He spins the sign on his foot.

He spins it on his head.

And no matter what kind of crappy mood I may be in, this stranger always makes my day better whether he's waving or smiling at me and my kids.

I remembered a day not too long ago, when I'd just been to get a blood sugar meter. I was terrified after seeing the doctor, because apparently I'm a pansy. Anyway as I drove back home, I saw the Little Caesars Dancing Man rockin' away. The light turned red and I watched him--his exuberance for life lightened my burden. I felt better from his random kindness. And I realized, he's kind 24-7 even though he's out there working in the blistering sun, and that man needs to know he's appreciated.

So today the kids and I went to where he dances. I met Ray in person, even shook his hand and got a picture with the awesome guy!

I told him about what an inspiration he is--how he might not know it, but he makes life better every day for people like me and my family. I gave him the $20 from anonymous and asked him to pay it forward. After that we talked for a minute and he showed me this video that was just posted on youtube by another fan of his.

So, I had another great day, almost as great as Wednesday. I hope Ray had a great day too.

In closing, my big radio interview is Friday night (4/12). I'll be talking about infant loss, love, redemption and hope. I'm praying that someone will hear my story and see that even if they're going through a hard time, God is still there for them.

Here's that info:

Join EC Stilson April 12th, 2013 at 8:30 PM Eastern Standard Time Zone on Triangle Variety Radio. Patrick Walter's interview will last for 1(one) hour here: http://www.blogtalkradio.com/trianglevariety

"But the Lord will deliver them out of them all."

2013-04-10T22:05:00.001-04:00

When I knew I carried a baby with birth defects, a guest speaker--who had no idea what I went through--visited our church. At the end of the service he called me to the front of the room. He didn't even know me, just pointed, and told me to stand. In front of the whole church he said that God gave him a message meant for me. He said, "Many are the afflictions of the righteous, but the Lord will deliver them out of them all." Chills ran up and down my body before I started crying.
My baby, Zeke, ended up passing away. But I never forgot that scripture because somehow it helped me recover from the death of my son.

To learn more about Zeke, please click on this picture.

If you'd like to hear a live interview about Zeke and his story, visit THIS LINK on April 12th, 2013 at 8:30 PM Eastern Standard Time Zone.

The interview will last for 1(one) hour.

I'll be on the radio this Friday! Will you come listen?

2013-04-09T08:50:00.000-04:00

As quoted from a PRWebs press release:
"Stilson's been a homeless musician, a grieving mother, a celebrated author, a publisher—a failure and a success."

Patrick Walters, of Triangle Variety Radio, will be interviewing me about my memoirs (The Golden Sky & Homeless in Hawaii), as well as about Wayman Publishing, on April 12th, 2013 at 8:30 PM Eastern Standard Time Zone.

The interview will last for 1(one) hour here: http://www.blogtalkradio.com/trianglevariety

I'm so excited! Here's to hopin' that it'll go great--that many lives will be touched--and that no one will think my voice sounds like a little girl's. *still smiling*

Would you feel bad about this if you were me?

2013-04-05T15:19:00.002-04:00

Inspired by Janie at dumpedfirstwife.blogspot.com

Preface . . .
Once upon a time I was accepted into a local university nursing program. I volunteered at a rest home, and even though the nurses treated me terribly, often making me and the other volunteers cry, I stayed, hoping to learn.

When ninety-year-old Rose talked, the past came alive. She'd met her best friends and later her husband at extravagant dances and parties. She'd been quite a prankster, witty, rich; I saw it in her sparkling blue eyes. In her picture, sitting on the tiny dresser, Rose looked like a movie star. Yet now she sat in a stained chair, and wore faded clothes. She frequently felt too cold despite warming weather, or the crocheted scarf she wore every day.
I spent my breaks with Rose because she was something special. On my last day, I asked her why no one came to see her. "They're all gone," she said. "The older generation has passed on. The younger ones are too busy. And it seems as if I'm the only one left." Her shaky hand picked up the picture of herself, still stationed on her dresser. She used her precious scarf to wipe dust off the glass. It felt strange seeing her wrinkled hand next to what she'd looked like decades before.
"It's your last day?" she asked, and I nodded. "Promise you'll come back. I get so lonely."
"I promise." I hugged her thin frame close to myself. "I'll be back when I can. Things are busy at home with my kids, but we'll make time. We'll all come to see you."
Rose opened the top dresser drawer and gently handed me something wrapped in tissue paper.
"For me?" I asked, trying to be careful with the gift.
"I've been working on it since the day I met you. I hope you'll like it."
I slowly took off the tissue paper, revealing the most beautiful jewelry box. Rose had crocheted it, using some type of stiff material to keep everything together. "It's amazing! I'll never forget this." I hugged her again, and then went out the door to finish my shift.

This (blue one) is similar to the jewelry box.

At the end of that day, I went to the nurses' station to grab the jewelry box, my coat and keys. "What's that in your hand?" a short, brown-haired nurse asked.

"It's a jewelry box. From Rose," I said, wondering if that nurse's picture is in the dictionary--under the word bitterness.

"Ya know, Elisa . . .," she said, digging her fingernails into my arm before I could leave. "I never figured you'd be one of them."

"One of who?"

"Those volunteers who take advantage of old people."

I gasped. "I would never--"

"Yet, you have. Does Rose have much in this life?"

"Well, no."

"And you've taken something from her?"

I thought hard. "But she made it for--"

"And you took it from her. Didn't you?"

"Yes." That was all I could say.

"Elisa, you took something from a woman who doesn't have anything. YOU are a terrible person. I'm ashamed any teacher would recommend you as a volunteer."

Tears came to my eyes. That stupid nurse glared up at me, finally smiling. That sickening red lipstick practically symbolized her craving for discord. That's all I could focus on as she spoke slowly, her lips moving over bleached teeth. "I'm glad you're done volunteering. And I hope you'll never come back. We don't need users like you."

I hated myself. My own skin crawled with heat and embarrassment. I clutched the jewelry box closer, knowing even then that I would never see Rose again. Not because I didn't adore her, but because I was too scared to face that nurse.

Thinking about the Random Acts of Kindness Blogfest, I've decided to do something extra nice once a week for the next two months. My action this week was to go see Rose and tell her how sorry I am. But she was gone.

I've learned something. I should have gone back to visit my dear friend. That friendship would have been a blessing to both of our lives. But instead I listened to a cynical pessimist.

Life's not worth living for other people, especially if we compromise our convictions just because of fear.

I keep thinking about Rose, waiting and waiting for me to come back. I once heard that if God gives us "a mission" that we pass by, He'll give it to someone else. I hope this is true, that a wonderful soul started visiting Rose--and I hope they stood up to that nurse!

Maybe next week's random act will be more uplifting. But this time around, learn from my mistakes.

Random Acts of Kindness--I NEED Your Help!

2013-04-02T21:59:00.000-04:00

I'm at a crossroads. Standing on the beaten path. And suddenly I have this strong desire to do something wonderful.

But I need your help!

See, I've been writing about some pretty amazing things that have happened to me.

   Why do these acts of kindness mean so much that I keep writing about them? Well in 2003, after my son died, Cade lost hope in humanity. He didn't take his pain out on God, or life, or hospital staff. He took it out on everyone else, not wanting to trust a soul, guarding himself from strangers.
But since The Golden Sky came out--the story of our son's life and death--Cade has seen the selfless generosity of many people. And I've watched Cade change. This means more to me than almost anything--that your kindness has helped Cade heal.
    Well, last week it happened again--a miracle. An amazing person read my blog (this post to be exact: If you've ever read my blog, please read this post.) and decided to anonymously send Wayman Publishing an iPad Mini for the giveaway! Cade and I were initially funding this giveaway (trying to help Wayman's authors gain exposure and succeed) nonetheless stressed, wondering how we'd afford the prize. Then to get an iPad Mini in the mail. . . It was a tremendous answer to prayer. And after God didn't heal Zeke, I've often wondered if He hears my prayers at all. . . .
    So, how could I possibly thank someone for this? How? Especially someone who wanted to remain anonymous. I think I've found a way.

Random Acts of Kindness Blogfest

Favor #1
In May--27th-31st--I'd like to have a huge blogfest where people can share love and joy, by writing about random acts of kindness that have been bestowed upon them in their lives. Imagine, visiting the blogosphere and reading about so much hope!
If you have a blog, would you sign up and write something for this? If you don't have a blog, would you refer people to this link, so the word will spread?
For the blogfest, you can write something for any/all days, just make sure your main post is up on May 27th--that's the post I'll link to the blogfest :)

Here's the button for the blogfest:

Please leave a comment or sign up at the bottom of this post!

Random Acts of Kindness Anthology

Favor #2
After the blogfest (if participating authors are interested and posts are approved) Wayman Publishing would like to publish an anthology from the posts written during this blogfest. ALL profit for this (through 2013) will be donated to charity! The kindness will spread even more.

This is the donation Wayman made from the last anthology,

Open Doors: Fractured Fairy Tales.

Giveaway

Favor #3

If you add the following info in your blog post, then you can email your blog post link to waymansweepstakes(at)gmail.com and you'll get five entries, for a chance to win the iPad Mini!

Info to add (listed in italics):

Buy any of Wayman Publishing's books—some only 99 cents—and automatically be entered into our iPad Mini Sweepstakes! Visit this link for more info: ow.ly/jsQVv

Want to join the blogfest? Go HERE to sign up!

Will you join me?

I can't do this without you. Will you help me make this event an amazing experience for everyone involved? You've all been so kind to me. The iPad Mini was an AMAZING act of kindness. I want the kindness and joy to spread.

If you'd like to be part of this blogfest, May--27th-31st,

Please leave a comment or sign up here:

How I Got My Big Break!

2013-04-01T05:30:00.000-04:00

The mountains called to me, so I drove east. In our city, most major roads lead straight to the mountains. As my car bumped along, I took a deep breath and smiled. Yes, this is where I was meant to be.

    I ended up at the mouth of a big canyon. I'd brought a notebook and a pen. I hiked up the icy trail, wishing I'd worn more than a jacket. Cade watched the kids so I could take a few hours alone. The cold wind nearly froze my cheeks, but I wouldn't complain--this was fate and a break from the children.
    So, I hiked, up and up until the city no longer sat beneath me and all I saw was snow, ice and a beautiful river on my right.
    As I walked, I thought about how strange life is. I grew up in a home with threadbare carpet. Paint cracked from the walls. We weren't poor--no we were far from that. My mom used to tape scriptures and notes on aged mirrors, telling each of us kids how amazing she thought we were. My father worked construction for years on end, providing for us. Yet still, I remember friends coming over and saying the house was embarrassing. Didn't they know how silly they sounded? Sure the house was falling apart--but that was the same place that held so much love. Why would someone be embarrassed about that?
    My mind turned to other things--recent things--how God has given me so much and I'm not sure how to thank Him enough.
    You see, several times I've considered giving up writing. It hasn't been easy. I've shared so much of my life--myself. . . . People either love my honesty or hate it. I've gotten PILES of rejection letters. But despite that, amazing things have happened. Like last year, when God brought me an angel.
I clutched my notebook then, as I hiked. I couldn't continue thinking about that--it would make me cry, it always makes me cry lately.
    When I was a little girl, my grandma was always there for me--a tower of strength encouraging me to write and be myself.

    "Grandma," I said when I was in elementary school, "I keep going to church to get saved over and over."
My grandma was a different religion than me and she thought that was hilarious. "Wasn't once enough?" she asked.
"Maybe," I said. "But maybe not. God's punishing me. When I close my eyes, I can't make the words stop. I keep seeing stories in my head. I pray that God will save me AND stop the words. He's punishing me for when I've been bad. That's why He's making me see the words."
She laughed so hard. "Seeing the words?"
"On a keyboard," I said. "Someone's typing them." It was always the same. I'd see these crazy hands typing more . . . AND more. A stupid red mug--with swirly paint--sat by the keys which never stopped clicking.
"Maybe it's you . . .," my grandma said. "Maybe you're meant to be a writer."
I laughed. "No. It's just God's punishment." But as the thought sunk in I did smile. "If I am meant to be a writer, there's just one thing I'll need."
"What's that?"
"Someone who's really good . . . I'll need that person to teach me."
    That's when I found a dream.

I stopped in some shade and stared at the river. My hand went up to a frozen tree limb and I held it tight. My grandma died years ago. She's the only grandma I've known. Whenever I wanted to give up on anything, she would be there cheering me on. She's the reason I went to Hawaii with Cade. She's one of the reasons I stayed strong after Zeke died (his story is HERE). And to be honest it's hard now that she's gone.
    One day--months ago--when I thought of giving up, I remembered my grandma. Where was she? Where was she to cheer me on? Pitying myself wouldn't help though. She isn't here--she left just like my son did.

    Watching the river, I remembered how months passed and I didn't give up. Some hard knocks came at the beginning of 2012. Deadlines were lost. Serious financial issues came into play. Although "The Golden Sky" did so well, in 2012 it wouldn't be realistic for me to keep writing. I told a friend about it and she paused before saying, "If you want to send me your manuscript, I'll help you." I was thrilled. Maybe everything would be okay.

As I continued up the trail, I thought of how strange it felt not having my violin. Normally when I go into the mountains, I'll hike to a cliff, so I can play my violin at the edge, hair blowing, music drifting away. But it was a good thing I hadn't brought it. The trail ahead got so icy, I couldn't keep going unless I used both hands. I looked up. Was it even worth it? I wouldn't have my violin or my paper and pen to write with. To continue the course, I'd have to give everything up. I tucked my notepad next to a snowy rock and decided to bravely move on. It reminded me of my journey to publication. . . .

Now, when this woman said she would help me, I had no idea who she really was. I'd only known her a short while, and I already loved her as a person--she's one of the kindest people I've ever met. I didn't realize she'd been an editor for various big name publishers or worked with famous authors. I didn't know she's sold thousands UPON THOUSANDS of copies of her book--in multiple languages.
Climbing that mountain reminded me of what this woman--my Yoda--did for my book. I had to leave everything behind. It was me, bare and with nothing to give. I was the student and I still have so much to learn. She called me every day. She'd read the chapters earlier and then at night we'd spend between one to three hours revising them together. I went from knowing little about writing, to learning more than I'd ever hoped for.

I made it to the end of the hike and stood in front of a huge waterfall. Half of it was ice, but the other section bubbled over itself falling down the mountain.
The sight was amazing, so worth the hard work, the slippery climb and the fact that I'd left everything else behind. In that moment, I thought of one of my last conversations with Yoda.

"I started helping you edit your book. I was amazed with how fast you learned." I'd wanted to reply and tell her I soaked up everything I could because this is my dream--having a mentor to teach me. "And I'm amazed with how wonderful your story is," she went on, believing in me more than I believe in myself. As if hearing me, she continued, "You need to believe in yourself. I've read many, many authors. . . . You really have something special."
"You're so good to me." I couldn't fathom that much kindness. When someone has given so much . . . it's proof that true angels exist.
As she spoke to me, I wrote some of her words down. I looked at the keyboard. My crazy hands typed more . . . AND more. Then I noticed the stupid red mug--with swirly paint--sitting by the keys which never stopped clicking.
I tried to keep my emotions under control, but it was so hard. I stood, remembering the whole time how I'd seen that same vision as a kid. I thought of my grandma and how much I miss her every day. She'd always been there to believe in me--to cheer me on. Somehow I wished she could see me and give me a sign that she's proud of what I'm trying to do. Would she be proud?
"Elisa," my mentor paused, taking me from my thoughts, "I told a friend the other day . . . you've endeared yourself so much to me. We started editing this and we were good friends, but now I feel as if I have a granddaughter."
I cried then because it meant more than she could possibly know. She felt like family to me too--but for her to say that meant so much! She's given more than I've ever deserved. But that's how angels are . . . and people who moonlight as Yoda.
"I'm so proud of you," she said then, and I could almost see my grandma smiling, reaching down from Heaven. I swear she brought this woman into my life.
    Somehow I always thought God was punishing me, but He wasn't, not really. He showed me a piece of what was to come--to confirm that I was on the right path. And then, to top everything off, He let me meet someone who would change my life forever--He let me meet my dream.
     I'm still in awe of the kindness shown to me. I want Yoda to know I will never forget this, and I will NEVER give up. Because I thought my grandma stopped cheering in my corner, but I've realized she's still there even if I can't see her. But she isn't alone. She's standing with a selfless editor who gave me one of the greatest gifts I've ever known--a chance.


    As I came down the mountain, I picked up my supplies and started writing this story. The trail was so much easier to navigate coming down--that's how it is when you know what blessings await you after you've survived the journey.
    When I finally started driving home to my wonderful husband and four rambunctious kids, the whole drive seemed bright. I saw clearly how beautiful life is. The gas prices . . . the potholes in the road . . . even the old burger joint that has terrible food. They all reminded me that I'm alive. How many people in the past would have done anything to see the future--this future--the one we're living in?

So, I'm sorry this post is long, but I just wanted to tell you, that if you have a dream--go after it and don't quit. Everyone has something to offer. Everyone has something special to share.
    This is the story of how "The Sword of Senack" got a chance. Imagine what your story could be. . . .

If you'd like more info about my book, please go here:

Amazon Paperback
Amazon Kindle ebook
Smashwords - multiple ebook formats

'TIL DEATH DO US PART?

2013-03-29T05:30:00.000-04:00

First off, I'd like to congratulate Fishducky. Her first book was published today and I'm so proud of her.

I hope you'll check it out HERE.

I've already had the pleasure of reading it and it's absolutely hilarious.

Now, onto some other news.

Jaimie Engle will be guest posting here today. She's an amazing author. And Wayman Publishing was lucky enough to sign her debut middle grade novel, coming out near the end of this year. Details to come.

Enjoy!

AN OLD WIVE’S TALE

By: Jaimie M. Engle

Marriage. It’s blissful and painful, magical and mind splitting all rolled up in ‘til death do us part’. Yes, I’m a woman, but this is not a piece on male bashing or on what the husband’s are doing wrong. This is addressed to the wives who hold more power over the happiness of their marriage than they know.

For starters, let me explain a basic truth of men and women. Men need respect. Women need love. Wives, if you respect your husbands they desire to love you. Wives who feel loved desire to respect their husbands. When this circle gets broken it feeds itself, morphing into two separate lines which move farther and farther from each other until eventually becoming parallel.

Did you know that wives do not have the right not to respect their husbands if they are not feeling loved? I know some of you just gasped deep enough to suck a few letters off of the page, but hear me out. As a wife you are called to honor your husband. This is not an ‘if-then’ statement. It is your vows in action under the covenant of marriage. The problem arises when wives treat their marriage as a contract and not a covenant.

In a contract, “if” one party shrugs their responsibility “then” the other party has the right to suspend their responsibilities, even to the point of legally breaking the contract on grounds that the contract was not fulfilled. Marriage is a covenant. It is a lifelong promise to remain faithful and unified as one flesh separated only by death. Are there exceptions? Of course, but this piece is addressed to the majority and not the circumstantial.

In my observances of my own marriage and the marriages of others, there are five major flaws that wives consistently do which have long term, detrimental impacts on their marriages. They are categorized as belittling, not being a helper, withholding sex, poor communication, and pride.

Alright, let’s break those down. Belittling is an insulting action which cuts your husband at the core. It goes against everything you are to be as a wife. By belittling your husband you are stating, “Not only do I not respect you as my husband, but I also think you are stupid as a person and I am better than you.” If you just shook your head in agreement, let me pose a situation: You are standing in a group of people and your husband has just asked you to get the keys. You return empty handed telling him you couldn’t find them in the bag. Your husband says, “I’ve got to do everything myself. Women are useless,” then walks away. How do you feel?

First of all, most husbands are way too courteous to treat their wives like that in public. If they did, imagine how much worse you’d feel if suddenly all the husbands chimed in and began wife bashing on your behalf? Doesn’t this sound like a typical conversation when wives get together?

How many wives complain that their husbands won’t help out with the chores or the children and then tell them that they are doing it wrong and push them out of the way to do it ‘right’? Are we really that much smarter than our husbands? How do they perform at their jobs without our help, being as stupid as they are? What happened to excitedly listening to his advice and coaching when we were dating, hanging on his every word, and lovingly expecting him to ride in on his horse and sweep us off our feet? Too accurately, we’ve probably stabbed that man to death and buried him six feet under.

Wives are helpers, remember? That whole deep sleep, rib thing, in the Garden of Eden. Why then do wives degrade their husbands and insult their intelligence? Just imagine how you’d react if your husband spoke at you and belittled you the way you do him. I doubt you’d respond as kindly as he does.

Speaking of being a helper, are you? Wives, I am about to get old school on you. At your root you were created to be a helper to your man first and foremost…not his mama! If you are a stay at home mom, you are responsible for the home. While your husband is off at work, you do the shopping, the cleaning, the laundry, and care for the kids. This is a typical trade-off.

I hear women complain that while they sit at night folding laundry, their husbands sit uselessly by watching television in the recliner. The only problem I see is that the wife is still working instead of spending time with her husband. Yes, I said it. See, hubbie is out working all day long. He doesn’t want to come home and do your job too. I mean, how would you feel if he called you from work complaining that you weren’t helping him make sales calls, manage personnel, or lay tile? Again, I’m certain your response wouldn’t be as kind as his is when you give him the silent treatment, yell and complain, or withhold sex because he won’t help you.

Which leads me to my next point: be fruitful and multiply. Having sex is a crucial part of your marriage. The kind of sex you had during the first year of your marriage, not this bi-monthly “favor” by letting him have some. And you like to be romanced, don’t you? What about your husband? He does, too, just not the way you think. Your husband remembers how you behaved when you were dating, when you held hands, played hard to get, and acted like you were actually attracted to him.

Why not text your husband that you’re thinking about him and want to mess around? Do you think he’d notice that girl at the office if you were flirting like that? Be dressed up when he comes home once in a while, hold his hand on the couch, or make out after the kids go to bed. Remind him that you think he’s sexy and you are still attracted to him. Don’t leave him to initiate all the action and then act annoyed when he does, because I promise you some woman out there thinks your husband is attractive and unlike you, she’s not afraid to show him.

I know you many not always be in the mood, but sometimes my husband isn’t in the mood to talk when I am, but he still does. And I don’t know about you, but I have never had sex with my husband and when it was over thought, “Thank God that’s finished. I had such a terrible time!” I have always enjoyed myself. Many times when I’m not in the mood I remember that, and it changes how I feel and act immediately. But really, I find the more I flirt, the more I genuinely want to have sex with my husband, and the closer our relationship is.

So now, let’s talk about poor communication. It goes something like this: “But, he should know…” or “I shouldn’t have to ask/tell him. I dropped enough hints.” Listen, point blank, your husband is not a mind reader. And he isn’t selfish or insensitive on the whole, anymore than you are when you don’t meet his needs.

See, when you find yourself moving into this school of thought, you have to decide either he loves you or he doesn’t. If he loves you, then you can assume he wants to be a part of your life, be helpful, and see you happy. So if he does anything that contradicts these thoughts, then there must have been a miscommunication, because he loves you. If you answered no, you don’t think he loves you, than you need advice from someone much smarter than I am.

For the rest of you, wives, you need to talk to your husband as if you love him and he loves you. I mean, would you speak that way to your girlfriend? Would you set such high expectations on her? Would you get as angry with her if she let you down or hurt you, as you do with your husband? My guess is no. My advice is lighten up! This man is supposed to be your best friend, and at best many husbands feel more like you’re their parole officer than their wife.

Communicate what you feel with respect and love. Don’t nag and yell or tell him where he’s fallen short. Instead, tell him how you feel and ask him to help find a solution with you. Respect his right to be a human being independent of you and embrace his strengths and his weaknesses. In all reality, your husband probably thinks differently than you, does things differently than you, and processes things differently than you. Instead of competing with him, learn from him and grow with him.

To truly become one flesh, you have to believe that he fills areas where you are lacking and you do the same for him. If you don’t, then you believe that you are a complete human being by yourself and you have all the answers to all of life’s problems, in which case you shouldn’t have gotten married. And this type of thinking is the basis of the last detrimental flaw I’ve observed in my marriage and the marriages of others, and that is pride. Pride is at the center of everything I’ve written about and it will fuel the fire of discord in marriage.

The bottom line is wives have so much control over the happiness of their marriage and unfortunately many of them do not use that gift to their advantage. I mean, who wants to spend ‘til death do us part’ counting down the days! Marriage is a blessing. It’s a lifetime partnership through good and bad, learning and growing, and supporting each other as equals. Wives, love your husbands. Respect your husbands. Honor your husbands. Remember those widows who would trade with you in a heartbeat the next time you are picking his socks up off the floor. Think of those single moms who would give anything to have a husband to interfere with her bedtime routine and let the kids stay up late. But most importantly, think about your husband the way you did when you first met him, and make an effort to be that woman who he fell in love with.

Feel free to drop in on Jaimie at www.jaimiengle.com.

"Bible Girl" is under Contract!

2013-03-28T12:11:00.000-04:00

The book practically cried for me to spare its life, and for a moment I thought I'd rather burn in Hell than lose something my brother had given me in love. The pastor nudged me, though, and my heart turned to ice.
I thought of all those hours my brother had read to me. I thought of all that time he'd invested.
I couldn't throw it into the fire; not the last book of the trilogy. That funny little dwarf stared at me from the cover. Then, I closed my eyes. I stepped so close to the flames they almost ate my skin. I tore the book in front of those kids. I put on quite a show throwing in a section at a time because I couldn't stand sending the whole thing in at once. When the last pages went up in flame, and the dwarf on the cover curled with death, I dropped to my knees and cried. The kids all hooted and screamed in ecstasy, thinking I'd been freed, when the ropes of religion had just twisted tighter.

-Excerpt from Bible Girl and the Bad Boy, the first book in my memoir trilogy.

This book--along with many of Wayman's other eBooks--is 99 cents for a limited time. Go HERE if you'd like to check it out.

And today's BIG news is . . .

"Bible Girl" is currently under contract to be an audio book! You can expect that in June. I'm so excited.

This is just an allegory--that's the reality

2013-03-26T10:07:00.000-04:00

I'm running up a hiking trail. Dust swirls from the people in front of me; the dirt mingles with my sweat, then makes me cough. But I have to keep going. I don't know why. I just have to.
After a while, I pass many racers my age. They want to walk instead of run, hold hands and enjoy the scenery.
    Time passes until only a few of us are left sprinting ahead. We're all different ages, moving into the shady areas where a stream trickles softly to the right.
    This is it. The moment that makes life worth it.
Most people stop running then, tired and wanting to enjoy life. But I can't understand it; they're missing the wind in their faces, the adrenaline of going faster and higher.
I ask them to keep running, but they wave me on.
And like an idiot, I go. Who cares that my legs feel like jelly, and my hips ache. I want to make people proud. And then while standing at the top of the stupid mountain, I can be closer to God--because I made it, and He'll know how hard I tried . . . for Him.
So I keep going, awfully happy at this point, thinking I'm living to the fullest.
But then the wheezing begins. The world spins out of control and nausea overtakes me. I can't run. I can't even stand up without blacking out. And I'll never make it to the top, near God and my plan for myself.
    My knees buckle, until I'm lying in the dirt.

Other racers move past--
--like I never even existed in the first place.

And the whole time, instead of thinking about the damn race, and how I can't run anymore, I'm worrying about my friends, my family and my God. Won't they be disappointed, to see how badly I failed?
    Who cares that my other dreams never came true. Because my real dream was merely to gain their approval.

    Multitudes of people pass, and I'm left crying on the trodden trail. That's when Cade finds me. "You don't care about me anymore," he yells, shaking me while I'm already down.
    "Yes, I do."
"You never want to spend time with me. You're always so tired."
"I love you. I swear. I'm just never good enough, that's all. Never. I want to try harder for you, the kids, my business, but . . ."
"But what?" he asks.
"I don't know." I pause. "I love you, Cade. I'm just tired."
"Elisa, you can't be everything to everyone." Then that strong man, who just yelled before, picks me up in his arms, and selflessly carries me up the trail.
"It's so beautiful," I whisper, hugging him with the last of my strength. "All the things I never really took the time to look at, they're just so beautiful."

--End of allegory--

   So, I'm meeting with a dietician today, to find out what I can (and can't) eat. I'll also get a meter for this hypoglycemia thing. Hopefully I can get my blood sugar under control. Two nights this week I went to sleep at five pm and woke up at eight the next morning. I'm so thankful that Cade helped me, even if he doesn't completely understand what I'm going through.

I'm sorry to vent, but this is scary. I'm that girl running on the trail, pushing, always trying so hard. But I'm also that girl lying in the dirt, so worried things will change forever. And then everyone will forget me, my books and the memory I tried carrying on for others, that's when I'll be left behind.

    Do you ever feel overwhelmed?

The Crazy Life of a Writing Mom

How NOT to Tell Your Child About Maturation!

I dated a guy in a wheelchair

Random Acts of Kindness Week #7--A Fisherman With Mike's Fishing Charters

We ran into a crocodile in Mexico!

Random Acts of Kindness Week #6--My Late Son's Birthday & a Miraculous Angel

A Miraculous Angel

Random Acts of Kindness Week #5--A Miraculous Blessing From Little Caesars' Corporate Office

Random Acts of Kindness Week #2 -- Little Caesars Harlem Shake

My humorous novella/audiobook, "How to Avoid Having Sex," was just featured on CBS News HERE And FOX News: HERE

I'm floating on air!

What a wonderful week.

Have you ever fought over which television show to watch with your spouse?

Random Acts of Kindness Week #4--A Man at Barnes & Noble

Yahoo! My First Audiobook was just Released and it's on iTunes!

Mother's Day Celebration

What is True Beauty?

Random Acts of Kindness Week #3--Flowers for a Stranger

I Went Skydiving With Edward Cullen and Jim Croce

Congrats to Brandon Ax: A Cover Reveal

Tender Mercies

That's a lot of sticks!!!

Random Acts of Kindness Week #2 -- Little Caesars Harlem Shake

"But the Lord will deliver them out of them all."

I'll be on the radio this Friday! Will you come listen?

Would you feel bad about this if you were me?

Random Acts of Kindness--I NEED Your Help!

Random Acts of Kindness Blogfest

Random Acts of Kindness Anthology

Giveaway

Will you join me?

How I Got My Big Break!

'TIL DEATH DO US PART?

First off, I'd like to congratulate Fishducky. Her first book was published today and I'm so proud of her.

I hope you'll check it out HERE.

I've already had the pleasure of reading it and it's absolutely hilarious.

Now, onto some other news.

Jaimie Engle will be guest posting here today. She's an amazing author. And Wayman Publishing was lucky enough to sign her debut middle grade novel, coming out near the end of this year. Details to come.

Enjoy!

AN OLD WIVE’S TALE

By: Jaimie M. Engle

"Bible Girl" is under Contract!

And today's BIG news is . . .

This is just an allegory--that's the reality

My humorous novella/audiobook, "How to Avoid Having Sex," was just featured on CBS News HERE

And FOX News: HERE