Stainless Steel And Granite

I took some time off to regroup and spend precious moments with family. Now that I'm back to work, I'm finding myself overwhelmed with thoughts and ideas. The workload is heavy, but I'm slowly digging myself out. Getting organized is a process when leaving my desk for any length of time.

What has struck me funny the past couple of days is one, my blog is all over the place, and two ... I don't care. I blog when I can, when I have something to say, and I write only what's on my mind. Religion, current events, on writing, publishing, family matters, garage sales, or shopping for a new bra. I have no notion that folks follow me because I might have some awe-inspiring thing to say about writing or because I make them laugh with every blog. I don't. I know that. Blogging, for me, is a personal thing. My human emotions are up and down, and therefore ... so is my blog. It goes against all the current blogging rules, but again ... I've never been much for playing by the rules.

While I've been relaxing the past week or so, I've flipped on the TV a few times to watch my favorite HGTV shows. Once again, I'm astounded by the number of young couples buying homes with huge budgets. Couples who want (make the whining sound here) "granite" and "stainless steel." Couples who hate the color of the walls, the flooring, or that the two-car garage isn't "big enough." Michael and I shake our heads and laugh. Out loud.

Michael's first home was an apartment with no sink in the bathroom. They brushed their teeth in the kitchen. Michael shaved in the kitchen. Their tiny black and white TV sat on a cardboard box covered with a tablecloth. Rabbit ears. Need I say more?

My first home was a single-wide on wheels. I didn't have a color TV until sometime in the 1980s. Flatscreen? Not on your life. No such thing. Cable wasn't even invented yet. But we did have the latest gold linolium and shag carpet. Lord, we never replaced carpet when we moved to a new place, we just scrubbed the hell out of the old stuff.

Putting a roof over our heads and food on the table has always been priority number one. Having a decent car to drive and clothes on our backs was a struggle at times. In fact, I've never had granite. Or stainless steel. Or new furniture for that matter. Over my lifetime, I've purchased new mattresses, but that's about it. My furniture has all been second hand from my mother or my sisters or friends. I've done plenty of garage sale shopping in my lifetime, and have gone through more cans of spray paint than you can imagine.

So when I hear someone whine that the open-concept living isn't "big enough," ... I want to scream. And what's the deal with popcorn ceilings? I hate them, too, but for crying out loud. It's a roof over your head!

When did twenty-somethings start thinking they have to have the best of everything before their 30th birthday? When did "starter homes" become a thing of the past? Four bedrooms, three and a half baths? Are you kidding me? My son's crib stayed in the livingroom until he was two. There was nowhere else to put him. As far as I know, he's not had any trauma from it.

I think about the house I grew up in, how we only had one bathroom with no shower. Tub baths were the norm for us girls. Stainless steel appliances? Ha! My mother was happy when her oven worked. There was no dishwasher, except for me. Granite counter tops? White laminate with gold fleck. Not one family on my street had grainite counter tops.

What's wrong with a little struggle? Learn to appreciate even the small things in life, like an extra twenty bucks left over after the bills are paid, more than two pair of shoes, and eating out. What happened to us? Why are so wrapped up in labels and fancy cars? What's wrong with clothes from Kmart and keeping a car long enough to pay it off?

I'm wondering if I'm starting to sound like my grandmother and her "Great Depression" speeches. Still, I think we're spoiled. We've had it too good, and technology has changed us.

Look, there's nothing wrong with having it all. It's how you get it that matters the most.

I look back at the single-wide I lived in. It was nothing fancy, but it was clean and I was proud to pay that $100 a month rent. Those avocado-green kitchen appliances are long gone. It's been over 30 years since then. The road from there to here has been full of pot-holes and empty promises. I may not see my mansion until I walk through the Pearly Gates. Until then, I'm happy with my old farmhouse, my 2006 Honda, and shopping for bargains at Kohls. If there's one thing I've learned in my lifetime, happiness can't be found in stainless steel and granite.

Blessings to you and yours.

Rules For Bloggers. Really?

The road less traveled ...

I've been thinking about my blog, in terms of what the "experts" are saying about how to blog, what to blog, and all these rules suddenly popping up all over the Internet and in writing conferences across the country.

Hmmm. Here's a question you may have asked yourself. Am I an expert in anything other than my  personal journey? What do I have to contribute?

"A great deal," is my answer to that question.

After more than a decade of writing and publishing on a full-time basis, I've acquired a bit of knowledge. Often the road less traveled for me winded itself through communities of publicity and promotion where Michael and I blazed our own trails. Together, we cut through one swamp after another, climbed more than a few cold mountains, and cared less when they said "it can't be done." Or, "you shouldn't do it that way."

I've just come off a ten-day trip to the Blue Ridge Mountains of North Carolina where I spoke on three separate occasions. Driving to Franklin, NC, through a blizzard where dozens of cars slid into ditches and off the mountain, I said to Michael, "What are we doing this for?!"

"Because we're compelled to go," was Michael's answer to that question.

I've posted on Facebook about each event, but I can say a thread of brokenness followed me on this trip. I wept on more than one occasion, delivering my speeches. I could not help but think how broken I became before God could make something out of me. For me to deny my walk with God, to renounce my roots, the spiritual side of me--it would be like asking me to cut off my hands and hack out my heart. It's not possible. As much as my work is about the dark side of religion, I know there's a light in the midst of it. I know it as sure as I know the sun will rise in the east every morning.

My point is that my blog has always been, and will continue to be, one of inspiration. Occasionally, I inform and enlighten, but to inspire you--that is my mission. You see, without the struggle, the dark halls and the deep valleys, I would not have the inward fortitude to purse my dreams. Dreams so far out of reach that looking back now, it's nothing less than a miracle I lived through it. I've walked through the valley, and I've stood on the mountaintop, but in the valley I found my inspiration. Do you think, for one second, I will change my message to fit within today's rules for the modern blogger?

Something happened to me during those years, I became a different person. Stronger. Determined. My favorite quote, as you may know, is by Helen Keller. "Character cannot be developed in ease and quite. Only through experiences of trial and suffering can the soul be strengthened, vision cleared, ambition inspired and success achieved."

This is the lifeblood of what I believe. My hope today is that you never have to walk those roads. But if you do, know that your journey is for a reason. Each step forward will present a truth about yourself that may be terrible to bear but the mold will break, resulting in a better, a stronger you. A goal reacher.

Today, I enjoy many blogs. Some of us are called to entertain, teach, make others laugh, and inspire. How you do that is up to you but more than anything, you've got to write your heart. It does not matter if you have ten thousand followers, or only two ... so what. Be true to yourself. And let those who make our rules ... live by them. You don't have to.

Blessings to you and yours.