Like most authors, my goal as a writer is to weave words into a beautiful tapestry; thoughts that take the reader’s breath away. To do this, I grab time when I can. While doing laundry or cooking dinner … or instead of doing laundry or cooking dinner.
But when I see it happen–when I read a piece that tightens my chest and stays with me for days–I know I’m in the presence of brilliance and need to share it with the world. That happens many times when I read Lori Roeleveld’s work.
Check out her latest piece. Find out why writers write.
This may help those who live with writers understand why their clothes may still be in the hamper or their dinners periodically get burnt.
Thank you Lori.
J. G. Gilbert & Robin Gilbert Luftig at Lake Lavine, MI, Summer 1958
Even though my family of origin was pretty dysfunctional, one of my favorite pastimes, when I’m feeling a bit low, is to remember stories about my dad and how he honored my feelings and held them close to his heart.
I always jumped at the chance to be with Dad in his room—the Gun Room. It was a treat to steal away with him when he went upstairs to his room. He kept guns, cameras, family photos and film equipment, and special sentimental pieces from his childhood there. I am certain he kept us out for our own protection when it came to the guns. We were all told the only time we were allowed to go in there by ourselves was if the house was on fire and we could safely get the family’s 8mm films out and save them from being destroyed. Other than that, the Gun Room was strictly off limits. Whenever I saw him in there, I would beg to join him. And he always obliged. While he worked away on whatever project he was concentrating on, I looked around his private sanctuary with marvel. I would fold my arms behind my back holding tightly on to my wrists, just to make sure I did not touch anything. I did not want to run the risk of inadvertently grabbing for something and causing harm.
Looking through my blog I was interested to see what my very first post was. I had made a website and had wisdom to share with the world! While it may be a bit sophomoric, I’m happy to see some things don’t change. Continue reading
Six years ago, Life was Perfect—until it wasn’t. Or was it still Perfect while changing direction?
Six years ago I didn’t have a care in the world. I still considered myself a newlywed after four years of marriage to the man of my dreams. My job fulfilled me professionally. My kids were happy and healthy. My local church embraced me with an unyielding love.
But I had no idea what was coming. Without realizing it, God had nudged me into preparation for what was to follow.
I saw a post on social media to all those who say they don’t celebrate Valentine’s Day. He charged that it was a cop-out when they say, “We celebrate Valentine’s Day every day. This is just a commercial holiday!”
I know some folks believe that, but this was my reply.
“Sorry, but I’m one of those gals who isn’t moved by Valentine’s Day cards. I watch guys stand in front of the card section at the grocery store, looking at each other, trying to figure out what would cost the least amount of money and effort to check off the list that they put effort into the holiday. These attitudes don’t do anything for me.
“Instead, this is what moves me to tears …
How do you measure success? As an author, do you measure it by the number of your published books? Do you measure it by the size if your Social Media platform?
I am a writer/divorce/brain tumor survivor/child of God. God has blessed me with experiencing many avenues of pain. I pull from these experiences every time I speak to others about the mercy and grace of my Heavenly Father. I understand many of these people. I’ve experienced lots of their types of pain. I know these feelings–as well as the comfort and healing power of God–are real.