Thank you for partnering with me as I write my book. You may not feel like a partner, but your prayers and encouragement are so helpful to keep me moving forward.
Sometimes it is difficult to find the time or the energy to write. Other times, I get discouraged when I...
see how easy others seem to write. However, since I asked you to pray, I have seen the Lord working in me. Instead of drudgery, trying to figure out what to say, writing has become a joyful expression of my love for the Lord. And when you pray for me, you are a part of that process. Thank you seems hardly enough to express my gratitude.
I thought I was finished with chapter one, but then I showed it to someone for review and realized I am not finished with chapter one. But I am getting much closer! I am spending a lot of time on chapter one because it is the foundation for what is to come. Hopefully the following chapters won’t be so difficult. Within a week, I hope to jump in to chapter two.
This month I also re-wrote my outline, adding more structure and chapter breaks. As it is now, I will have around 22-25 chapters, but that could change. I have already written the end, so I know where I am going, although I will tweak it when I get there. This project seems to move and grow with a life of its own.
Please pray that…
I ran to the front of the house and found Mom kneeling in the dirt. “Hi, Mom. What are you doing?”
“Planting snapdragons. What are you doing?” She gazed up at me, squinting from the sun in her eyes.
“Nuthin’.” I wandered over and sat on the one concrete step that led to our front door. Mom dug holes with her hand spade in the section of dirt just in front of the house. One curly strand of brown hair fell into her eyes as she leaned over.
“What color is our house again?” I asked.
“But beige isn’t a color,” I protested.
“It’s like tan, only it’s beige.”
“I don’t know of anything else that is beige. The dog isn’t beige. Our car isn’t beige. I don’t have any toys that are beige.”
She smiled as she gently lifted the small plants and tucked them into their holes. She patted dirt around them and gave them each a drink of water from her watering can.
“Beige is a boring color,” I continued.
She picked a bloom and squeezed it in the middle to make it look like it was talking. “Well, it wouldn’t do to have a purple house, now would it?” said the snapdragon in a high-pitched voice.
“Beige is still boring.”
I gazed off into the distance. Our house faced the foothills of the Rocky Mountains. Wherever I went, I could see their beautiful silhouette against the deep blue Colorado sky. They were snow-covered most of the year, and the blue and white hue gave them a majestic feel. My heart lived in those mountains. But our house, it was plain. Beige. No trees, not much grass, fields running in every direction as far as you could see. Sometimes, if you sat very still, you could lose yourself in the silence.
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