tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1184465952903550362024-02-19T01:44:31.845-06:00Peace Garden WriterPurposeful pondering from the prairieRoxane B. Salonenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01459456545891720716noreply@blogger.comBlogger225125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-118446595290355036.post-51428003459224296412015-03-04T00:00:00.000-06:002015-03-04T00:00:00.918-06:00The Reviews are In!<br />
<b>Well, they've started</b> pouring in and I'm sure more are on their way: the first reviews of our book, <a href="http://www.ignatius.com/Products/RBG-H/redeemed-by-grace.aspx" target="_blank">"Redeemed by Grace!"</a><br />
<br />
What an exciting time -- this phase when we have a chance to glimpse at how others are absorbing the story we worked so hard to get right, and expended so many prayers over.<br />
<br />
Each review is different because each reviewer is unique, but <a href="http://www.truthandcharityforum.org/i-am-pontius-pilate/" target="_blank">the one that came in on Monday</a>, "I am Pontius Pilate," written for Human Life International's Truth and Charity Forum by Caitlin Bootsma, really impressed us. After all, the heart of the message burst through loudly, clearly.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSIWMcKBqFzB4qzmg_TldUJ7iY0znGfp-bgzjUs5wATyOua_ZFAFjR7NVgHUJifvaHMUiPWA9lgjTMkH7ZLX94Il5D08BBw7GxTXxtRoqHD38KpeUUnqN6Hei1XEl_xnuENWG3EPjRXGGr/s1600/ReviewPPilate.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSIWMcKBqFzB4qzmg_TldUJ7iY0znGfp-bgzjUs5wATyOua_ZFAFjR7NVgHUJifvaHMUiPWA9lgjTMkH7ZLX94Il5D08BBw7GxTXxtRoqHD38KpeUUnqN6Hei1XEl_xnuENWG3EPjRXGGr/s1600/ReviewPPilate.jpg" height="251" width="400" /></a> </div>
<br />
It's plain to see the reviewer not only read the book, but took it into herself, and after mulling over its implications in relation to her life, offered it back up and out for others. Rather than try to make a play by play summary, she took what of it resonated most loudly and presented it to potential readers as a gift.<br />
<br />
<b>She got that what we</b> wanted to share as much as anything is that our culpability in doing harm isn't always obvious, but it does bear on our soul. What part do we play in the sins of society? In what ways do we try to wash our hands clean, even as we are participating in sin? <br />
<br />
When you send a book into the world, you don't know what will come back. We know that some will misunderstand our intended message, depending on the state of their heart. So when someone comes close to getting the crux of message we wanted to convey, it is an occasion for gratitude and joy.<br />
<br />
In this case, that crux isn't to shame others for their sins and wrongdoings, but to give them -- and us all -- hope, empowerment and encouragement to bring forth all that is dark in our lives, with the goal of lightening our hearts to more assuredly do the will of God. <br />
<br />
<i>Here are some other reviews that have come in since our book launch a few weeks back</i>:<br />
<br />
- <b>Ethika Politika</b>: <a href="http://ethikapolitika.org/2015/02/16/redeemed-by-grace/" target="_blank">http://ethikapolitika.org/2015/02/16/redeemed-by-grace/ </a><br />
<br />
- <b>Prolife365:</b> <a href="http://prolife365.com/pro-life-warrior-ramona-trevino/">http://prolife365.com/pro-life-warrior-ramona-trevino/</a><br />
<br />
- <b>The Curt Jester:</b> <a href="http://www.splendoroftruth.com/curtjester/2015/02/book-review-redeemed-by-grace/">http://www.splendoroftruth.com/curtjester/2015/02/book-review-redeemed-by-grace/</a><br />
<br />
- <b>LifeNews.com:</b> <a href="http://www.lifenews.com/2015/02/17/im-done-why-did-this-planned-parenthood-abortion-facility-manager-quit/">http://www.lifenews.com/2015/02/17/im-done-why-did-this-planned-parenthood-abortion-facility-manager-quit/</a><br />
<br />
- <b>Patheos:</b> <a href="http://www.patheos.com/blogs/happycatholicbookshelf/2015/02/book-review-redeemed-by-grace/">http://www.patheos.com/blogs/happycatholicbookshelf/2015/02/book-review-redeemed-by-grace/</a><br />
<br />
<b>Q4U: Have you ever communicated something publicly and been surprised -- perhaps delighted -- at a certain response to that sharing?</b>Roxane B. Salonenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01459456545891720716noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-118446595290355036.post-29861132356754156462015-02-25T00:00:00.000-06:002015-02-25T22:48:12.500-06:00Introducing (drum roll please...) Ramiah Elizabeth Trevino!<br>
<b>I was watching TV</b> with my youngest son Monday night
-- something I rarely do in the first place. Which is just one of the
reasons the moment will always stand out.<br>
<br>
We had
planted ourselves there after his Scout den meeting because a former
student from our local Catholic high school, whom we watched with great
admiration during his days at Shanley High School, is scheduled to be on
The Voice in the coming weeks, and we thought maybe, maybe this would
be the day. So we looked on with rapt attention, only to suspect we'd missed the day our hometown hero Mike Leier would have his big moment on national television.<br>
<br>
As we watched and waited, my phone dangled
just behind us on the top of the couch, hooked up to the outlet
behind to get juiced up enough to accommodate an evening phone interview. I glanced toward it for a moment
when I saw the Facebook status update notification light up. And then I
squealed out loud, realizing what it was!!!<br>
<br>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMxLDvTffs6EdsQM8NB3SMG3i-97tOtTiWeF-oK55UpKbuVIM4-cVrCu7zNh8-NMcWPq0_dT10bdBjamaF6Pni_3jCkbVgJGRvXjQCrBPvjNb2p8zFU_fn12cDtuHFo0l75eRge3J7gnXl/s1600/StatusRamiah+(2).jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMxLDvTffs6EdsQM8NB3SMG3i-97tOtTiWeF-oK55UpKbuVIM4-cVrCu7zNh8-NMcWPq0_dT10bdBjamaF6Pni_3jCkbVgJGRvXjQCrBPvjNb2p8zFU_fn12cDtuHFo0l75eRge3J7gnXl/s1600/StatusRamiah+(2).jpg" height="211" width="400"></a> </div>
<br>
"Weeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!" The expression became a common one to me during my writing
journey with Ramona Trevino these past couple years. She even took to
saying it herself a few times, knowing it was my word but certainly
worth borrowing when the occasion called for it.<br>
<br>
<b>The ushering in of</b>
a new life is certainly an occasion for such a word to be used, and I
couldn't help but call it up in that moment. Especially when I saw her
cute, chubby little face for the first time!<br>
<br>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUDmZ9B32AvHvBSLRsDMD1m9j1p5_l_LnfBaFf9XHjUrF7E4uR6vi2F4JZZNeKRydc8uC2w8i6gR1LB3l4U-DBGNwFPsQ2f7OecN0redt_E1WSionmwHE2iM_gVgPDVLVuvAYvIgHN73GV/s1600/Ramiah1B.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUDmZ9B32AvHvBSLRsDMD1m9j1p5_l_LnfBaFf9XHjUrF7E4uR6vi2F4JZZNeKRydc8uC2w8i6gR1LB3l4U-DBGNwFPsQ2f7OecN0redt_E1WSionmwHE2iM_gVgPDVLVuvAYvIgHN73GV/s1600/Ramiah1B.jpg" height="320" width="306"></a></div>
<br>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
It's
been a long time since someone super close to me -- someone almost like
a sister -- had a baby. And honestly, the excitement I felt over seeing
this new little life was a bit overwhelming. Even though I knew this
baby was part of our journey from the beginning, and would play a very
special role in both our lives, I didn't quite expect the rush of
feelings I would experience.</div>
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<br></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
I
never had a younger sister, but surely, this is what it would have felt
like to be an auntie to the baby of a younger sister, I thought. I fell instantly in love. I stared at the image over and over, unbelieving that
just hours before, Ramona and I had been talking on the phone. "I think
my water may have broken," she'd said. And soon I'd received a text noting that
she was on her way to the hospital and likely would be having little
Ramiah before the night was through.</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
When our youngest was born in 2005, Facebook hadn't really even become a thing yet -- not like it is now anyway. And I had yet to discover the world of blogging. It's hard for me, the natural communicator that I am, to recall a world without it, but most
of my life rolled along fine for years with no Facebook updates. </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<b>Yet I have to admit, this</b> is one of the most exciting aspects of social media, this chance to learn about big events so soon on the heels of the actual event occurring; like the birth of a baby, especially when you're as far as Texas is from North
Dakota. It brings two worlds so much closer together and I love that about it. And I'm so glad Ramona's oldest daughter Lorena was willing to keep up with the status updates. Of course she would! She's never known differently.</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
I'd
been holding the precious image of a bundled Ramiah in my heart through the earlier part
of Tuesday when her mama, who had undergone a C-section (Ramiah weighed in
at nearly 10 pounds) texted me and our third collaborating sister,
Lauren, with another photo, this time with Ramiah's eyes popped open and looking like she was ready to go shopping or out to lunch.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpnEWZONfiikbRrWRTwwEAJ2XPuL4j6BDatvAkFA-9gFbi36nc-X4lsaurlIWDgEGbtJYvNLpb0-yO3T1_DZ856OfVLhrGzZLQ1C-c97Ka3RBOynudKB8PoeDOXU2XUNtfVaJP3AJfFon8/s1600/Ramirah2B.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpnEWZONfiikbRrWRTwwEAJ2XPuL4j6BDatvAkFA-9gFbi36nc-X4lsaurlIWDgEGbtJYvNLpb0-yO3T1_DZ856OfVLhrGzZLQ1C-c97Ka3RBOynudKB8PoeDOXU2XUNtfVaJP3AJfFon8/s1600/Ramirah2B.jpg" height="400" width="342"></a></div>
"Hello
world! Hello Auntie Lauren and Auntie Roxane," read the words below.
Now it was confirmed. No wonder I felt so close to that little pumpkin.
She was claiming me as her auntie, even if only through her sweet mama.<br>
<br>
Well,
I can't get this little sweetheart out of my brain. She came at a time
when I surely needed some good news. The week after the release of our
new book, "Redeemed by Grace," has come with more than a few moments of
consternation; things not fitting for this blog post, but suffice it
to say, the beautiful news of new life was welcomed beyond imagining.<br>
<br>
<b>I don't know exactly</b>
what role this dolly will play in my life, but I feel so very close to
her already! After all, she was listening in on the million phone
conversations her mom and I had those nine months she was cozy in her
womb. When we laughed, when we cried, when we yelled, "Weeeeeeee!"
together, baby Ramiah was there, sucking her thumb, swimming in amniotic
waters, hanging out with God, waiting for the day he would say, "It's
time, little one. Go to the others who love you now, so you can begin
making your way back to me."<br>
<br>
I honestly don't know how
Ramona can possibly take all of this in. A book, a baby, all within a
week. But I know this. We are both so filled with gratitude. All these
months before, so much preparation, so much waiting, so much paving the
way for what would go down these last seven days.<br>
<br>
All of it miracle, blessing, gift.<br>
<br>
<i>Thank you, dear Lord, for bringing hope into our world once again in the form of this precious child!</i><br>
<br>
<b>Q4U: What looks like love in your life this week?</b>Roxane B. Salonenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01459456545891720716noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-118446595290355036.post-91448438408379044302015-02-18T00:00:00.000-06:002015-02-24T22:16:52.167-06:00Behind the Scenes of the Webcast<div style="text-align: center;">
<b style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif; text-align: center;"> </b><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjygOgQpxWzMOWGNniAXUnlEHXEX8PMOEXY1PtVQ5wF8-W20v8oWKMffay0LeORVYNVpR49eJjma5Kdjwp9u3KOAXqQf1etUw4f_euDh9iE2A07wbj1M-hdcd-WYr92LW3tHaoVxXgXPN80/s1600/WebcastChairBW.jpg" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjygOgQpxWzMOWGNniAXUnlEHXEX8PMOEXY1PtVQ5wF8-W20v8oWKMffay0LeORVYNVpR49eJjma5Kdjwp9u3KOAXqQf1etUw4f_euDh9iE2A07wbj1M-hdcd-WYr92LW3tHaoVxXgXPN80/s1600/WebcastChairBW.jpg" height="400" width="300" /></a></div>
<br />
<b>Monday night was huge</b> for me -- an evening I will never forget as long as I live. This eve of the launch of our book, "Redeemed by Grace," became something of an online launch party, if you will. I am in awe of how technology can bring North Dakota, Texas and all the states in between and on either side together like this. And in awe that our book was given this beautiful introduction.<br />
<br />
Truly, Ramona and I, and our glue, Lauren, were completely humbled by the experience. For several years we worked quietly on this book. Stepping into the moment when it was time to not only share it with the world, but hear what the project had meant to a group of high-profile pro-life people who had read and embraced the story, had to have transcended the experience of most authors.<br />
<br />
But there's more to this story. As the day of our webcast drew near, along with two preparatory conference calls that preceded it, I began to grow stressed. Anyone who has been to my house knows that 1) it can be loud because of either spontaneous vocal emissions from the children or pets and 2) there really isn't a place to hide. With no basement for me to hole away into, the variables left me worried.<br />
<br />
Sometimes I take my writing on the road for this purpose, hunkering down at coffee shops or other public places that accommodate such situations. But it wouldn't work this time given the time of day and possible extraneous noise. I would be making a public presentation each time, and I needed quiet.<br />
<br />
<b>Eventually, a friend came</b> to mind. Mary Kay had been praying for this project for a long while with us, and happens to be the godmother of one of our kids. Not only that, she lives on the same side of the tracks, and her youngest child just left the nest this past summer. Might she have a spare room to offer me for hiding purposes?<br />
<br />
Indeed, she did, she said. The only issue to work around would be that she and her sweet husband Don would be dog-sitting for their oldest son and his new wife, on honeymoon in Greece. Would I mind just calling first so they could quiet the dogs, and come in through the garage to sneak downstairs? No problem, I said, grateful for a solution. <br />
<br />
So for three evenings -- two last week and then again on Monday -- I left home for the oasis of a currently abandoned bedroom, and was ushered toward a comfortable chair, where I could set up shop, quiet my mind, connect to the Internet, pray, and focus on the others who would be talking, as well as prepare for my public piece.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIluB1sqiz3f-JA6iu_Qae8bLgvW-zHUOo88BLRd3QTG2nrRh-RC7Hz_SG_QCqAXiM2ZU6cm93dN3AVVU7mbibO2vyugirvqZZTJAcRK0T51e2lXKGSNvv_N87TpyTq0FAseZn-Uw3_qVX/s1600/WebcastChair.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIluB1sqiz3f-JA6iu_Qae8bLgvW-zHUOo88BLRd3QTG2nrRh-RC7Hz_SG_QCqAXiM2ZU6cm93dN3AVVU7mbibO2vyugirvqZZTJAcRK0T51e2lXKGSNvv_N87TpyTq0FAseZn-Uw3_qVX/s1600/WebcastChair.jpg" height="400" width="300" /></a> </div>
<br />
The first night, my nerves sprang into action. But when I looked up and saw this...<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilkSI5ZAYjQryvPfxddNIiK0gZlWiv_A_fo49PvnQ5b7fEJH9umxLp3LsUvhMv4CCgOvbjCF_66xk06gtY5uz6HLANshjK8ONkyRRx1pTykg5ZIvuUl6wqdFOyGucaOoDXzIyFYTgt9wX4/s1600/WebcastCross.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilkSI5ZAYjQryvPfxddNIiK0gZlWiv_A_fo49PvnQ5b7fEJH9umxLp3LsUvhMv4CCgOvbjCF_66xk06gtY5uz6HLANshjK8ONkyRRx1pTykg5ZIvuUl6wqdFOyGucaOoDXzIyFYTgt9wX4/s1600/WebcastCross.jpg" height="400" width="300" /></a> </div>
<br />
...everything felt right again. It was so calming. Only later did I learn it had been acquired in Rome by the youngest child in the family and has a special story behind it. It's called the San Damiano cross. <a href="http://www.monasteryicons.com/info/san_damiano_cross.hzml" target="_blank">Go here for more. </a><br />
<br />
<b>This place of safe harbor</b> in the middle of winter in preparation for our book's birth blessed me so much. It was in this spot where I listened, for the first time, to the very inspiring reactions to our hard work, and heard how the story had already begun blessing others. What a powerful, humbling experience!<br />
<br />
One of my favorite moments Monday night was when David Bereit, the host, asked callers to state where they were calling in from, and people began chiming in from all over the United States and even Canada. What an awesome feeling to hear those voices and realize they'd come to hear about our project!<br />
<br />
When it was over each of the three nights, I would pack up my laptop, grab my coat, and head out into the family room, where I would be greeted by this adorable motley crew - Deacon, Tucker and Rosie!<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixHtF3Anx2sGurVd_TwxcQ8Zf8ym3K8LEvzSsM-zMBY23aKxQimkku9HixcHy0iY_DPHJWOk2Q1Cn3m_a39O6Muo4jZjh-gcCtWutBcaZ9q7kULCvJPM7btVGIDFeFbd6_uZFfzyFRZrKX/s1600/WebcastDogs.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixHtF3Anx2sGurVd_TwxcQ8Zf8ym3K8LEvzSsM-zMBY23aKxQimkku9HixcHy0iY_DPHJWOk2Q1Cn3m_a39O6Muo4jZjh-gcCtWutBcaZ9q7kULCvJPM7btVGIDFeFbd6_uZFfzyFRZrKX/s1600/WebcastDogs.jpg" height="327" width="400" /></a> </div>
<br />
What a way to be welcomed back into the real world -- with unconditional love. It was the best.<br />
<br />
These small touches -- a quiet, warm room, the generosity of a friend, a cross on the wall -- reminded me that God is with me, always. I thank him for that and for this work he helped Ramona and I bring to fruition. I think we can breathe a sigh of relief now and just enjoy what's coming from here.<br />
<br />
And of course, today, a shift for those of us who observe Lent. Last night's Fat Tuesday did have me craving a few indulgent treats. So after his hard-played basketball game, my middle son and I enjoyed our favorite pizza in the world. Behold the "Skinny Vinny" from Spicy Pie. Yes, on Fat Tuesday!<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3TUEiNNvuVUvsQbLD3h4I-e0fSig3Ts45KD-9fch9nxJUYXDhd-eD8vcFXlL2lxFmzxfLkJ8-l1gxTnl_R_NBX8nh5ML4iAxi6N9rWV-S4BnzGtGmXxzARTrByrI3eDMOvuJ8xMzdZWO_/s1600/FatTuesdayPizza.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3TUEiNNvuVUvsQbLD3h4I-e0fSig3Ts45KD-9fch9nxJUYXDhd-eD8vcFXlL2lxFmzxfLkJ8-l1gxTnl_R_NBX8nh5ML4iAxi6N9rWV-S4BnzGtGmXxzARTrByrI3eDMOvuJ8xMzdZWO_/s1600/FatTuesdayPizza.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a> </div>
<br />
<b>We followed that up</b> with a baker's dozen of donuts from Sandy's a few doors down, which we of course brought home to share. <br />
<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjydJCyk40e52IofEznqdADOpsZnpnW6ZV1N3QCt5oKZL_TRIhWOYtNMeWuipvAVyyrwS2cYh1TdBZmXDkteH_5-Ub7Fe54RWqCkViW2-_qvvb_iJ0UoIu2-Wa1W1h0_4mC3EGDtehGcmrz/s1600/FatTuesdayDonuts.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjydJCyk40e52IofEznqdADOpsZnpnW6ZV1N3QCt5oKZL_TRIhWOYtNMeWuipvAVyyrwS2cYh1TdBZmXDkteH_5-Ub7Fe54RWqCkViW2-_qvvb_iJ0UoIu2-Wa1W1h0_4mC3EGDtehGcmrz/s1600/FatTuesdayDonuts.jpg" height="320" width="299" /></a></div>
<br />
And where, pray tell, is 13th donut? Well, it may not have made it quite all the way home.<br />
<br />
Now, to buckle down and get serious about the fasting thing. Here we go!<br />
<br />
And by the way, if you missed the webcast, no worries. <a href="http://instantteleseminar.com/?eventid=64379352" target="_blank">Here it is again for you to enjoy at your leisure</a>. I think you'll find it interesting, informative, and, hopefully, inspiring.<br />
<br />
I have two more very sweet surprises to share Friday and Monday, so stay near! <br />
<br />
Happy Ash Wednesday. May your time in the desert bring you future desserts, into a deeper relationship with God, and much peace.<br />
<br />
<b>Q4U: Have you ordered your copy of "Redeemed" yet? <a href="http://www.ignatius.com/Products/RBG-H/redeemed-by-grace.aspx" target="_blank">Here's your chance (click here)!</a> And thanks in advance!</b> <b>We've been hearing it's perfect Lenten reading!</b>Roxane B. Salonenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01459456545891720716noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-118446595290355036.post-31423177052552706982015-02-11T08:50:00.000-06:002015-02-11T10:57:46.349-06:00A Book Trailer to Top it Off<b>We'd been working on</b> the book over a period of several years, so there was no doubt its entrance would be a euphoric moment of affirmation of all the hard work and sacrifice. The culmination of our pouring out of heart and soul alone would make this so.<br>
<br>
That's what I was focusing on. I didn't see the rest of the fruits that would come.<br>
<br>
When the idea was first proposed that a book trailer be made in association with our book, "Redeemed by Grace," I loved it, but there was no guarantee it actually would come to pass.<br>
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In one of our early marketing planning meetings, it came up again, and a few of us voiced our hope for it. "Sounds like a great idea," we said, and then left it in the hands of the publisher and marketing firm. <br>
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And then, not long ago, the link arrived in our inboxes. The trailer had been done, but not only that, they'd used the song; the song that Ramona, the author, and her daughter had written together, and that her daughter had performed.<br>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpqCqOfBRLbxx7ba1hYj8RkcoKNN0-2BJEhvLFNXAfIiFEIYB7WlaEXk4EpFT9hxXl9S43eaPTLAy8ztAzfNKofHTHNrq6k5jXCKIaYhUbfuLYr_oc-Dz_lFhiP3OLoGp2Whhx8rQrc5rf/s1600/Ramonavideo.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpqCqOfBRLbxx7ba1hYj8RkcoKNN0-2BJEhvLFNXAfIiFEIYB7WlaEXk4EpFT9hxXl9S43eaPTLAy8ztAzfNKofHTHNrq6k5jXCKIaYhUbfuLYr_oc-Dz_lFhiP3OLoGp2Whhx8rQrc5rf/s1600/Ramonavideo.jpg" height="250" width="400"></a> </div>
<br>
Can I admit something? I cried when I heard it. I cried because Lorena has a beautiful voice, but also, because I know a little about what this song means to Ramona, and to me, too.<br>
<br>
I have so much more to share about our book, and about the song. I'll be sharing the whole story soon. But for now, still just glimpses, because it's a thing that's so special, it must be savored and presented in just the right away. It must be shared long and slow.<br>
<br>
I promise you this. If you have a tender heart like I do, hearing about it will bless you.<br>
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For now, <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uA385fjwViM" target="_blank">just watch and listen</a>. Make sure to let me know what you think. And if you feel up to it, do us the honor of sharing it around. The book comes out soon -- Feb. 17. It's actually available for pre-order now. My mom got her box of books in the mail this week.<br>
<br>
We feel the message we are sharing is important for many different reasons. But the biggest is that it's a story of a soul; a soul that was transformed by love. Is there anything more precious than that?<br>
<b><br></b>
<b>Q4U: What do you think of the idea of pairing a book launch with a song? </b><br>
Roxane B. Salonenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01459456545891720716noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-118446595290355036.post-75227729356554471122015-02-04T00:00:00.000-06:002015-02-04T00:00:09.050-06:00The Thrill of Holding Your Book<br />
<b>It had been a long day</b>, a bit of a crazy day, a sad day.<br />
<br />
We were preparing for the possible death of my daughter's teacher, someone she has come to adore this school year, and whom many have adored before her.<br />
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That's what was on my mind -- the visit we'd just paid to his hospital room, where he seemed to be slipping away. So when I pulled up the driveway to let her out so I could leave again to accomplish my afternoon errands, it didn't click -- the box on the front steps.<br />
<br />
"Can you check to see who it's for?" I asked her. She looked, then picked up the medium-sized box and brought it over to me. I could tell from her expression that it was heavier than she'd thought, and when she handed it to me, it was heavier than I'd imagined too. What could it be?<br />
<br />
I hadn't ordered anything lately. What was it? What was I forgetting? I couldn't tell from the return address either. It wasn't from our publisher, so it couldn't be our book. Or...could it?<br />
<br />
<b>Suddenly, I realized,</b> this must be it! Could it be? Our advanced author copies. I would have to open it up to know for sure.<br />
<br />
Well, no time now. First things first. Pick up the younger kids at school. Don't want to make them stand in the cold. Those rosy cheeks, those accusing eyes. "Why did it take you so long, Mom? Where were you?" I couldn't face that this day. So I headed off, the box sitting on the passenger's seat, taunting me.<br />
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I arrived at the school with enough time to sit with the box and attempt to open it. But this was easier said than done. Whomever wrapped it, or whatever machine it was, had it down to a science. I tried and tried and tried with my bare hands. Finally, I had to search for something sharp. They keys. That's the only thing that might tear through that strapping tape.<br />
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Finally, twisted into a strange position, there in the van, I was able to find the opening, and pull back the four box lids to find...<br />
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrpTEZLcL6lg0XK8trPvpwsswrDofAqBfwVGDnrj7mZq0KZVGZ2ck0d-8vHEEAhqYN5ksB1M2L0WI5AtmIVukEj41DYCM4nth4BxliyejOPrH4WeGxxttj4WZ1yO1uKEk5MU012vUaOLNA/s1600/RedeemedFirstTouchB.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrpTEZLcL6lg0XK8trPvpwsswrDofAqBfwVGDnrj7mZq0KZVGZ2ck0d-8vHEEAhqYN5ksB1M2L0WI5AtmIVukEj41DYCM4nth4BxliyejOPrH4WeGxxttj4WZ1yO1uKEk5MU012vUaOLNA/s1600/RedeemedFirstTouchB.jpg" height="400" width="300" /></a></b> </div>
<br />
Yes. Yes! This is it! After three long years, we have...a book!<br />
<br />
<b>It is impossible to convey</b> how this feels, because, of course, it's about so much more than that moment. But in that moment, every conversation, ever moment of stress, all the moments of anticipation and joy, converge, and there it is. On the seat....of the van...in front of the school.<br />
<br />
There's a moment of reveling, and then soon, the kids emerge from the school, and there's no more time to savor. That savoring moment -- that first glance, the first touch -- it's over. It will never come again. But it's a moment you will never, ever, for the rest of your life, forget.<br />
<br />
I still remember opening my first children's book that I authored too -- how I ran downstairs in my pajamas to call my husband on our cordless phone that had been plugged in, and how, when I emerged again upstairs, my son, then 2, now 12, was running around the living room with a cover of one of my brand-new books, now crinkled from his unknowing, young hands.<br />
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"I can never have a moment," I thought then. And now, a decade later, repeating the same thing but without toddlers, I think, "I can never have much of a moment now either, can I?" And yet...I had the moment. Fleeting though it might have been, it was precious.<br />
<br />
<b>The kids need me now.</b> They've just come from a whole day of experiences and have many things on their mind besides my book. "Oh, that's nice mom," one says, focused on other issues. The others seem somewhat curious. I let them look at it. They hold it, wonder about it, ask a few questions. And then we're heading into the rest of our night.<br />
<br />
I know I will have to resume the world already in motion, but before that, I send a text to Texas, and we squeal together through the written word, and then, through a quick
phone conversation. It's real. It's really real! <br />
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzX68kxXHR33WRvLub9_JlcWZ6la3PE4knvrYxUg0KDZDImh4OrH2CqL3-SRyFPgAhujHTBFzMIUrFs_KfKe82i4bhtrzjBUIWBx78z33fPPjLImuIEMvTAZAZuq-6QzfoTrr8gdFpF1U2/s1600/RedeemedPeek.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzX68kxXHR33WRvLub9_JlcWZ6la3PE4knvrYxUg0KDZDImh4OrH2CqL3-SRyFPgAhujHTBFzMIUrFs_KfKe82i4bhtrzjBUIWBx78z33fPPjLImuIEMvTAZAZuq-6QzfoTrr8gdFpF1U2/s1600/RedeemedPeek.jpg" height="400" width="238" /></a></b></div>
<br />
A day will pass before I'm able to return to the box. But when I do, I lift that first copy out and hold it to my chest, and smile. And then I open it, and read...and smile some more, and look upward and say, in all sincerity, "Thank you, God. Thank you for bringing me, and Ramona, and all who worked to make this happen, to this moment." <br />
<br />
<b>Q4U: How did you react upon realizing your dream had arrived?</b><br />
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<b><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzX68kxXHR33WRvLub9_JlcWZ6la3PE4knvrYxUg0KDZDImh4OrH2CqL3-SRyFPgAhujHTBFzMIUrFs_KfKe82i4bhtrzjBUIWBx78z33fPPjLImuIEMvTAZAZuq-6QzfoTrr8gdFpF1U2/s1600/RedeemedPeek.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a></b></div>
<br />Roxane B. Salonenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01459456545891720716noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-118446595290355036.post-50011480053638886372015-01-28T11:12:00.005-06:002015-01-28T14:37:25.202-06:00Lauren Muzyka: Our Story's Glue<br>
<b>Meet my friend </b>Lauren Muzyka!<br>
<br>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-V5ZDNbNsEwpQ4gHL-iPnOFx53akTi5psQGVts1apIajXFBBCUBSgqT1G4ehf2mF2WLchj6_XIMsB_kPwcSxaqpBJwOzJGS8-csTwvQ0RGGzvBmqW7qnNEp0QHDOwFqkKo6lWfjBBqht3/s1600/LaurenRoxB.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-V5ZDNbNsEwpQ4gHL-iPnOFx53akTi5psQGVts1apIajXFBBCUBSgqT1G4ehf2mF2WLchj6_XIMsB_kPwcSxaqpBJwOzJGS8-csTwvQ0RGGzvBmqW7qnNEp0QHDOwFqkKo6lWfjBBqht3/s1600/LaurenRoxB.jpg" height="265" width="400"></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lauren Muzyka and me in Texas, summer 2013<u><br></u></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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She may not like being called "glue," but when it came to pulling together the book, "Redeemed by Grace," there's no way around it. Lauren = glue!<br>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNeGhNwQVLqdBtJKTlldvop6NXOp2-X7m5bnmKhWxtBbLfQQuYBwPBNeEjlHkXUBUdyBeaBMKHpdzJ33lGa2mH_ovoi2EpSjTEzMkXFxw5NJWsaG9jePicjGNncW812-ZKTKvGVGuq6Pb4/s1600/glue.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNeGhNwQVLqdBtJKTlldvop6NXOp2-X7m5bnmKhWxtBbLfQQuYBwPBNeEjlHkXUBUdyBeaBMKHpdzJ33lGa2mH_ovoi2EpSjTEzMkXFxw5NJWsaG9jePicjGNncW812-ZKTKvGVGuq6Pb4/s1600/glue.jpg" height="300" width="400"></a> </div>
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Lauren paid a pivotal role in Ramona's conversion story, and helped her make the potentially treacherous jump over to the pro-life side of the world from a place of darkness. When Ramona felt uncertain, Lauren assured her she was not alone.<br>
<br>
After Ramona made her brave, life-changing decision, and when she began quietly sharing her story with a few others, and one suggested her story was book-worthy, Ramona looked around for the support she knew she would need to push forward on such a project. Because let's face it. Many people think of writing a book, but few actually do it.<br>
<br>
Lauren was the voice of optimism that said to Ramona, "I'm coming with you on this journey. Let's figure this out together." It was Lauren who talked to someone who talked to someone else who ultimately talked to me about working on this project.<br>
<br>
<b>And through that process</b> of collaboratively writing Ramona's story, Lauren was there in the background and, if needed, the foreground, too, to rally the troops and keep us both inspired and excited.<br>
<br>
It's true that it takes a team of people to bring a book to fruition. But in the case of "Redeemed by Grace," I can honestly say it would not have happened if not for this positive, spirit-filled person of Lauren Muzyka, who helped keep our fires lit over and over again.<br>
<br>
And in the middle of it all, Lauren founded a new non-profit organization to help people praying at abortion facilities to better respond to the women and men who are going in with the intention of ending their baby's life.<br>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVTKPPbQnDl2pwzhfV84-XhOHf2LRHEmr5lOYABVKJgkLRqpKcbJlXIZSGcPyDWOo0H8lY8S_ki4MwXtetCEGwc4fcKjvdfHeXl8EC_sJMCrQFLrYRh-APrw0CfuwjNIsZts4K8ZgYfZz6/s1600/LaurenInterviewSign.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVTKPPbQnDl2pwzhfV84-XhOHf2LRHEmr5lOYABVKJgkLRqpKcbJlXIZSGcPyDWOo0H8lY8S_ki4MwXtetCEGwc4fcKjvdfHeXl8EC_sJMCrQFLrYRh-APrw0CfuwjNIsZts4K8ZgYfZz6/s1600/LaurenInterviewSign.jpg" height="400" width="400"></a> </div>
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<a href="http://sidewalkadvocates.org/home/" target="_blank">Sidewalk Advocates for Life</a> is filling a needed niche, compassionately, and saving lives in the process. Not surprisingly, it's an effort that is growing by leaps and bounds, though its goal is to someday not be needed at all.<br>
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<b>I had a chance to meet up</b> with Lauren recently again in D.C., where she was part of the pro-life entourage. Lauren waited with me and others at the EWTN tent the morning of the March, hoping with me we'd get our turn to share about this project. When that chance slipped away, she immediately thought of positive responses.<br>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgA-OkXZQ7oxEkhFYq11WCSYmmg19JtN4ehR3O3i9VeEO3f6kPxTrSnAfTn_RGoIY7elPBt1Z5tjzcbsaFmYmSQXmqgULSF2aJWJ95dw5EMomlRvoxB80TPbjGuWTpKqJdah5KwnIqXu_wG/s1600/LaurenRoxDC.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgA-OkXZQ7oxEkhFYq11WCSYmmg19JtN4ehR3O3i9VeEO3f6kPxTrSnAfTn_RGoIY7elPBt1Z5tjzcbsaFmYmSQXmqgULSF2aJWJ95dw5EMomlRvoxB80TPbjGuWTpKqJdah5KwnIqXu_wG/s1600/LaurenRoxDC.jpg" height="400" width="400"></a> </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqh5-OG2UafDy5PfG6hsQFVdzSlkqJSh9iCtdpq9JB5tNYHyBn5HsOxpGFfrb5w9y3TYjc8QToLmuDvX_3yecusDP1pjHwpxAAAnow6ppWD6rj5oDcujCS6JlT-L7CtWO1NgLuaQSpcR9v/s1600/TeresaEWTNDC.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqh5-OG2UafDy5PfG6hsQFVdzSlkqJSh9iCtdpq9JB5tNYHyBn5HsOxpGFfrb5w9y3TYjc8QToLmuDvX_3yecusDP1pjHwpxAAAnow6ppWD6rj5oDcujCS6JlT-L7CtWO1NgLuaQSpcR9v/s1600/TeresaEWTNDC.jpg" height="320" width="320"></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqh5-OG2UafDy5PfG6hsQFVdzSlkqJSh9iCtdpq9JB5tNYHyBn5HsOxpGFfrb5w9y3TYjc8QToLmuDvX_3yecusDP1pjHwpxAAAnow6ppWD6rj5oDcujCS6JlT-L7CtWO1NgLuaQSpcR9v/s1600/TeresaEWTNDC.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimQYCWejSg_xa43wCz_wPNS4vhTCKDNX9T4zVICvPko38L2z0mrdVPwT1hPu9jda1N6sRhfqmZ-mdIBR0RIxlIgcxi6vwflqk0ndJIbx27-8o2y79Y5-D2270N7oqpKBrRzrZuR5llyIjH/s1600/LaurenAurora.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimQYCWejSg_xa43wCz_wPNS4vhTCKDNX9T4zVICvPko38L2z0mrdVPwT1hPu9jda1N6sRhfqmZ-mdIBR0RIxlIgcxi6vwflqk0ndJIbx27-8o2y79Y5-D2270N7oqpKBrRzrZuR5llyIjH/s1600/LaurenAurora.jpg" height="400" width="400"></a></div>
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The next day, I got to see Lauren again at the Students for Life of America conference, where she set up an informational booth about her organization and shared with the young people in attendance how they might make a difference by standing on the sidewalks and, prayerfully, being advocates for love and life.<br>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUeY-CzNbdXlYL9rf-_iN9Xkn0eY5Q8brJBXIMFd4mVZAoNMPUDRNrQyXb8jhqyk0uLkqPCTXKOiItJTaOzuPwf7vF_jfoI0IcTprvLnJznKuKs5XnNkMl2ZJJXBLqnAMLWd-NuaI908kb/s1600/LaurenSFLB.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUeY-CzNbdXlYL9rf-_iN9Xkn0eY5Q8brJBXIMFd4mVZAoNMPUDRNrQyXb8jhqyk0uLkqPCTXKOiItJTaOzuPwf7vF_jfoI0IcTprvLnJznKuKs5XnNkMl2ZJJXBLqnAMLWd-NuaI908kb/s1600/LaurenSFLB.jpg" height="210" width="400"></a> </div>
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Lauren indirectly played a role in our book coming together in a variety of ways, but she also played a direct role, including through writing the foreword. It is Lauren's voice the reader will first "hear" as she introduces her friend Ramona, and in a most beautiful way.<br>
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Along with the rest of this story, I am excited to share Lauren with you, and allow you to see how God has pulled together so many incredible souls to bring this story forward!<br>
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<b>Q4U: Who is a bright light in your life this week?</b>Roxane B. Salonenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01459456545891720716noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-118446595290355036.post-22758757824501649222015-01-14T00:00:00.000-06:002015-01-14T00:00:04.765-06:00Birth of a Book: First Reactions<br />
<b>Christmas came early</b> this year when, more quickly than anticipated, I received notice that the book I'd been working on for nearly three years was not only going to be published a little ahead of what we'd thought, but that some of the early endorsements were in.<br />
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The book, "Redeemed by Grace," a conversion story, will be officially "out there" the middle of next month. The Christmas season set it back slightly from its Feb. 3 "due date." But the marketing of the story is well underway now.<br />
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I can honestly say that reading those first reactions was one of the biggest thrills of my life. After keeping this story close to our hearts for what felt like a very long time, Ramona (the subject of the book) and I had the privilege of taking a peek at first reactions. Reading them, I was filled with such excitement, even elation, because of all this story has come to mean to me and the gift I believe it will be to many.<br />
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Here are some snippets:<br />
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It is a very special thing to be part of a project that has the potential to bless so many people. I want the work I do to make a difference, and from the start, I knew this project had that potential.<br />
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I also expect some will be challenged by the book. One of our endorsers even used that word, "challenging," to describe her reaction. And that's okay. I would hope any story would be challenging on some level. That's how we grow. But I also love her conclusion:<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHSHa2WcrnkvU_b7bzgQuqPWGG6hR6-J0-lO336tVKYlhO-nDI3rU59uoBCNu8scwnkDjZMvMtealZh6Tv0BtimRTvtCnQ3-Ydk0ywfXr_PAIebvPbroAhZ1Uj4DkE8fu7sCUpKAJVEGdH/s1600/LisaEndorsement.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHSHa2WcrnkvU_b7bzgQuqPWGG6hR6-J0-lO336tVKYlhO-nDI3rU59uoBCNu8scwnkDjZMvMtealZh6Tv0BtimRTvtCnQ3-Ydk0ywfXr_PAIebvPbroAhZ1Uj4DkE8fu7sCUpKAJVEGdH/s1600/LisaEndorsement.jpg" height="72" width="400" /></a> </div>
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I can't help but think of Flannery O'Connor's comment at this juncture in her own book-writing:<br />
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<b>"I am about convinced now that my novel is finished. It has reached the stage where it is a pleasure for me to type it so I presume it is done....This is the best stage -- before it is published and begins to be misunderstood."</b> (<i>The Habit of Being</i>) <br />
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It's going to be awfully hard to misunderstand Ramona's story, however. Rather than a work of fiction with all the intricacies that entails, it's very plainly drawn, a journey of a soul, and it's hard to argue that. In sharing her story, Ramona has agreed to turn her soul inside-out because she believes that doing so will make a difference. Maybe it will spare others the anguish she endured. And if not, it should leave people with a sense of hope, as Lisa said. We both want this, and our publisher does, too, or they would not have taken the chance on it that they have.<br />
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So, here we are. We are close now to the day when we can share this story with others. It's an exciting time for us and we are praying that all who read this work will be blessed in some way. <br />
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It's not my story, but I believe in it, and I look forward to helping set it free. I am grateful for these first reactions, which come from such good hearts -- some of whom I know personally and others, more on the periphery. Either way, we are grateful for such beautiful, hopeful, positive words as we work to get this project off the press and into your hands.<br />
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<b>Q4U: When has a first reaction been a gift to you?</b><br />
<br />Roxane B. Salonenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01459456545891720716noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-118446595290355036.post-10558572579594238362015-01-07T00:00:00.000-06:002015-01-07T07:21:41.087-06:00Birth of a Book: Peeling the Onion<br />
<b>Last week, within my annual</b> <a href="http://peacegardenwriter.blogspot.com/2014/12/one-word-for-2015-receive.html" target="_blank">"One Word for the New Year" post,</a> I tucked in a very important mention of why my 2015 holds so much promise. It has to do with a book that is coming; one that will contain, somewhere on its cover, my byline.<br />
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There's so much to share about this incredible project, but I don't know how else to do so except by, like peeling an onion, layer by layer.<br />
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And so I've decided to go about it by carving out some space on Peace Garden Writer this month, in these remaining weeks proceeding the launch, post by post so as as not to overwhelm anyone -- myself included.<br />
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I can really blame my mother-in-law. She's known about this journey from the start, but it's come in bits and pieces. Recently, she was trying to grasp it all and asked me, by email, if I could write a detailed account of how this all came to be. Could I remind her of the journey? What was it that started the whole thing again? It's been almost three years in the making, so a lot of the details have gotten lost in the shuffle of life.<br />
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So let me start slowly, at the beginning, to help answer the question: How was it that I ended up being part of a book project that, as it turns out, was picked up and is being published by a <a href="http://www.ignatius.com/" target="_blank">major religious publisher</a>? <br />
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<b>Let's see, how did it begin? </b>How did <i>this</i> little strip come to be?<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQIL8TfZ9L3dYrdWbm5xs7Jq3vYxHIJPjDXrMhQ36LCtZCbq4Vica4QZuvJxmdT6iWj12JXkBDnUZjDnF7p0TBBK292Wxv1Jw4A45wuaB9RJFOdOuDJy9eoC0ob4dHBQIkWNo74_uNS7tg/s1600/byline.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQIL8TfZ9L3dYrdWbm5xs7Jq3vYxHIJPjDXrMhQ36LCtZCbq4Vica4QZuvJxmdT6iWj12JXkBDnUZjDnF7p0TBBK292Wxv1Jw4A45wuaB9RJFOdOuDJy9eoC0ob4dHBQIkWNo74_uNS7tg/s1600/byline.jpg" height="40" width="400" /></a> </div>
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I remember getting an email from a friend of mine -- someone who is prominent in the world of Catholic communicators. She said she'd been tapped by a prominent Catholic radio host, who'd been approached by someone connected with a very influential pro-life organization with a connection to a story that begged to be shared.<br />
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The friend who came to me said that when the project was proposed to her, she thought immediately of me as a prospective writer. We've known each other for years and in that time, she'd become very aware of both my potential and passion. She knew I was very busy, in transition in fact in my career, but she had to follow up on what she felt was a Holy Spirit sort of prompting. <br />
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When I take a step back, it is rather incredible to me how it all came to be, and how I ultimately was connected with a Catholic mother in Texas who has since become a very precious friend. This friend, Ramona, experienced a profound conversion around Easter in 2011, and, after much prayer, was considering sharing her story in the hopes it might benefit others, especially through relaying how deeply God had touched her life.<br />
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These things tend to tug and burn on our hearts. God prompts us, and we are obliged to respond in some way.<br />
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So Ramona responded, and through a series of interesting events, I was tapped. Let me just say this: the line from Fargo to Texas has been well-worn these past three years. Not only have I spent time with Ramona in person on three different occasions, but I've met her family and stayed up until the wee hours of the morning with her pondering the important things in life. <br />
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When I agreed to help write a book, I didn't know all that that would come to mean, but in the process I've gained a very precious friend. And not just one friend, but several, because one of the people who played a role in Ramona's conversion, and consequently wrote the foreword for the book, has become a friend as well. <br />
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So when did I enter in? It was in the spring of 2012 -- a year after Ramona's conversion -- when the email first popped into my inbox. Within a short amount of time, I was involved in a three-way conference call, and it didn't take long from there for things to unfold.<br />
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<b>In the end, we are convinced</b> that the Holy Spirit had something to do with the merging, and that, for us personally, the collaboration has been about more than just a book all along.<br />
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Don't get me wrong. This story alone would have been worth setting aside what seemed like hundreds of Saturdays (thanks to my dear hubby) in order to arrive at the finish line. But the relationships that have formed as a result have convinced me all the more of God's love for me. Ramona is a gem and we have complemented each other quite well along this road and learned so much in our spiritual and familial travels together.<br />
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I can't wait to share more, but I must not rush things. The layers cannot be stripped away in haste or some of the flavor will be lost. But I will share more a week from today. In the meantime, there's a little more <a href="http://carmelcommunications.com/redeemed-by-grace/" target="_blank">here</a>.<br />
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I promise you that the layers will not be bitter like an onion; not even close. Unless you're talking about a sweet onion -- maybe then, yes.<br />
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<b>Q4U: What news have you had to peel like an onion, one layer at a time?</b><br />
<br />Roxane B. Salonenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01459456545891720716noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-118446595290355036.post-22339701233647416362014-12-31T00:00:00.000-06:002014-12-31T00:00:00.587-06:00One Word for 2015: Receive<br />
<b>When the word showed up</b>, it was love at first sight. I knew without a doubt it was "the one" -- my word for 2015!<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiynjVQw8SA53AS5_uzNwAxyYhfS9GiR4yPPvHtxmI5PA7FUmwmzzWUYQkSwmRtqYitAcYaPZy0L0vhJqI740MxV09VRcWHB_uIVuWHHz8DR5ZBHjuvhyphenhyphen3JLss2ggTmF15gymm_vAXlbW-/s1600/ReceiveChoirB.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiynjVQw8SA53AS5_uzNwAxyYhfS9GiR4yPPvHtxmI5PA7FUmwmzzWUYQkSwmRtqYitAcYaPZy0L0vhJqI740MxV09VRcWHB_uIVuWHHz8DR5ZBHjuvhyphenhyphen3JLss2ggTmF15gymm_vAXlbW-/s1600/ReceiveChoirB.jpg" height="300" width="400" /></a> </div>
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As in, "Let earth, receive, her king" on a wider level. And on a more personal one, "May Roxane receive (and recognize) the blessings that are on their way."<br />
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The above photo exemplifies the word well to me. I see the best things in life in terms of light. The good, honorable, beautiful things. In the photo I also see my daughter, second from left. What does the light these young people hold beckon? What will it bring?<br />
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To me, this word implies so much more than what one might perceive at first glance. It is a word that indicates much has come before. Preparations have been made, prayers have been said, all that is left is the willing reception. Perhaps that's the key: willing. Am I? I want to be!<br />
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Right now, I feel less pursuer (my word from a couple years ago -- see other words of the year <a href="http://peacegardenwriter.blogspot.com/2013/01/one-word-for-2013-joy.html" target="_blank">here</a>, <a href="http://peacegardenwriter.blogspot.com/2014/02/about-that-word.html" target="_blank">here</a> and <a href="http://peacegardenwriter.blogspot.com/2014/01/one-word-for-2014-expectation.html" target="_blank">here</a>) and more being in a place of openness to the good things about to be laid in my life.<br />
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2014 ended with a truly beautiful Christmas.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmX90O2k5iPnn3I5G7HYTZeBycYjdGdbfiUsiNHP2d3kmQD1IXSU9BUY1KujQlDTCWTSTN6xd7F5-r2H30Ja_R_H1VlHMj-BKPgcktOvQ9xXz5m2IhcvpvbYIlnePxPWOELVjPsPJqeNLW/s1600/ReceiveSanctuaryB.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmX90O2k5iPnn3I5G7HYTZeBycYjdGdbfiUsiNHP2d3kmQD1IXSU9BUY1KujQlDTCWTSTN6xd7F5-r2H30Ja_R_H1VlHMj-BKPgcktOvQ9xXz5m2IhcvpvbYIlnePxPWOELVjPsPJqeNLW/s1600/ReceiveSanctuaryB.jpg" height="300" width="400" /></a> </div>
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There was so much receiving going on through these sacred gifts.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqMP6ssqBu_-WtAlbRColTGsDJ0ft3YUSZCeR7kwXCeqjBcwKqCv1LHnqgeRHSUZJjOBUq-Y5i_xth2cFy5Ed9bbzFuX9x2xqcw8E9VnSUhQHOjheQia-cmoWXFuiVxhQojq9UicDzjm7f/s1600/ReceiveFlowersB.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqMP6ssqBu_-WtAlbRColTGsDJ0ft3YUSZCeR7kwXCeqjBcwKqCv1LHnqgeRHSUZJjOBUq-Y5i_xth2cFy5Ed9bbzFuX9x2xqcw8E9VnSUhQHOjheQia-cmoWXFuiVxhQojq9UicDzjm7f/s1600/ReceiveFlowersB.jpg" height="400" width="300" /></a> </div>
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Nothing says reception like this:<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYZdRGSVs5dOkzTytA5ysC_9fpmC0f0hqslVE4PCfAI0rjUDiH6_WUlgK66ILKtukiu6M3HYsksNlJa7HYh6FkpS1R16B2v5vTAU28yi2N7bMtO7zo7F9SuWLjk0dlC0cFlab4WwxZ4cO4/s1600/ReceiveMaryB.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYZdRGSVs5dOkzTytA5ysC_9fpmC0f0hqslVE4PCfAI0rjUDiH6_WUlgK66ILKtukiu6M3HYsksNlJa7HYh6FkpS1R16B2v5vTAU28yi2N7bMtO7zo7F9SuWLjk0dlC0cFlab4WwxZ4cO4/s1600/ReceiveMaryB.jpg" height="400" width="300" /></a> </div>
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<b>Sometimes, though, what is</b> received may be a little hard initially, like the visit to my father's grave. But had my sister not suggested it, and I not been open, I would have missed the opportunity to see what the Veterans' Memorial Cemetery in Mandan, N.D., does for their heroes at year's end. I am grateful we took the time to go. The hundreds of wreaths with their red bows made my heart feel so peaceful.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg83GgP3B2eq-M4xeTn9HBEPetR1LWzZJ8sP4YASgyuJaAN0itI0Z6iRGQLEiYwil0_Ne-tE-W7XLHP2xLIg6ZfQTZXTyPyhUJ7SdiVKdKoC2AZafYthS6Ycb5sBigL9gh0hTXZDXw04-r1/s1600/Christmas2014DadGraveB.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg83GgP3B2eq-M4xeTn9HBEPetR1LWzZJ8sP4YASgyuJaAN0itI0Z6iRGQLEiYwil0_Ne-tE-W7XLHP2xLIg6ZfQTZXTyPyhUJ7SdiVKdKoC2AZafYthS6Ycb5sBigL9gh0hTXZDXw04-r1/s1600/Christmas2014DadGraveB.jpg" height="640" width="468" /></a></div>
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Even this day, as my mother and I bent down to read what the tag on the wreath said...<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFauB01Y51FdAziJWtlWRUbKr-gGT-kYo1ZF2F8ZNx5EU1OSBPWcw89hf9yrn9mq4z7FkLZgMQDqx2AHJ7yQM4SOkDVuHEwVwxrgsXDwgN39qfuvujL_YPiiW7BBsJSFzuNL5WT6YhN3cl/s1600/Christmas2014GraveTagB+(2).jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFauB01Y51FdAziJWtlWRUbKr-gGT-kYo1ZF2F8ZNx5EU1OSBPWcw89hf9yrn9mq4z7FkLZgMQDqx2AHJ7yQM4SOkDVuHEwVwxrgsXDwgN39qfuvujL_YPiiW7BBsJSFzuNL5WT6YhN3cl/s1600/Christmas2014GraveTagB+(2).jpg" height="300" width="400" /></a></div>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrlEMOJ-_jZMjqFgfb9bsYnS5Y-R-96NkchuuY6aw0l6DsrpJLrbboYoh_jlRM5vJjgVl2fmN7IHZlLFLq1Awck7qc6ecs4pAJIOIbjxpQYB1gPgSyU9xNpSeUIz0XxvnVm-s8D-2441In/s1600/Christmas2014GraveTagB.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a> <br />
...the reception was already in motion. I was already receiving, in this case, solace that my father, who died Jan. 11, 2013, is just as much a part of our lives as ever. My grief has fallen to a place of receptivity to how I might honor him best in the time I have left on this good earth, rather than wishing for something that can not be. I accept, and in turn, I am open to receiving.<br />
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Mind you, in some ways "receive" can be a scary word, but only in the absence of trust. Because I want to work on trust in 2015 -- full trust in God -- "receive" is well fit, since these two are an appropriate pairing. In fact, "trust" makes a perfect secondary word for 2015.<br />
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<b>I can only begin to make out</b> what my 2015 reception will be, but I've got a few heads-ups in the immediate future. Right away at the top of the year, I will travel to D.C. with my youngest daughter to take in the March for Life -- my second such trip -- and be part of the reception by our school of the event's lead banner, which we will carry proudly.<br />
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Just beyond that, another truly magnificent gift is on its way that I will gladly and gratefully receive. It's the gift of the completion of a project, which started several years ago, and ended in a beautiful friendship with this gorgeous girl, Ramona Trevino.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_kJOWlcfAqd0ALNzTBbWSroU-C-vvncJI9WrRe0n71-rgvlSwLGezLgDZO68ncPD7Cf-rUqbxzJpTkUzlZtGZ05EihTM3Ce0pLnGqwjs2WSUYDZaNnmapkni4SNbTxGO0RZnWdzQJIzjJ/s1600/Ramona_Roxane+(2)%2BB.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_kJOWlcfAqd0ALNzTBbWSroU-C-vvncJI9WrRe0n71-rgvlSwLGezLgDZO68ncPD7Cf-rUqbxzJpTkUzlZtGZ05EihTM3Ce0pLnGqwjs2WSUYDZaNnmapkni4SNbTxGO0RZnWdzQJIzjJ/s1600/Ramona_Roxane+(2)%2BB.jpg" height="400" width="300" /></a></div>
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Roxane, Ramona, Receive, and the title of our book, "Redeemed by Grace." Now that's a lot of R's! For a peek of what's to come, go <a href="http://carmelcommunications.com/redeemed-by-grace/" target="_blank">here</a>. At the bottom, a link will take you to further information about our forthcoming gift.<br />
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I'm ready, humbly so, for I know that God is the author of my life, and with the goal of trust in my heart, receive should be achievable. I desire to be willing to receive whatever comes, with trust that God loves me and my family so much that wherever we are led, it will be for His glory. There's no greater feeling than knowing you are in safe and loving hands, and if I can live this attitude out the whole of 2015, the year will end with gratitude.<br />
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The clean, fresh slate is always wondrous, always new, always hopeful. Let the reception of all that is good (and then some) begin!<br />
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By the way, if you're one of those people who is into saints like I am, you might find this <a href="http://www.conversiondiary.com/2014/12/your-patron-saint-for-2015.html" target="_blank">"patron saint for 2015" generator</a> by Jennifer Fulwiler a fun exercise. There are so many saints we can learn about and lean on. Who will your patron saint for 2015 be? <br />
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<b>Q4U: What is your one word for 2015? Go ahead. Dare to choose one. It's a fun exercise in both anticipating and navigating the year ahead.</b>Roxane B. Salonenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01459456545891720716noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-118446595290355036.post-89610029704461568902014-12-17T00:00:00.000-06:002014-12-17T08:11:53.379-06:00Introversion Series: Technoverts?<br />
<b>This is the way we</b> introverts roll.<br />
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The other night, I had an hour to kill while waiting for my boys to finish their piano-lesson session. My "to do" list growing by the day, I knew the most efficient use of my time from the outsider's perspective would have been to head to the supermarket nearby and check a few more items off my Christmas list. And I was tempted.<br />
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The last couple times I've been in said supermarket, however, it has taken me far too long to get out of there. The check-out aisles are narrow, and there never seems to be enough help, so the lines are long. You think you're done and out of there, but you end up standing in line...and waiting...and waiting...and before you know it, the hour's up.<br />
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And what's more, I'd had a really emotional day, so my tank was, well, about to tank out. That hour might well have gotten me further down on my list in the short haul, but I knew I'd pay the price later. So I did what would seem unwise from the exterior.<br />
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Instead of turning right, into the supermarket parking lot, I hung a left in search of a quiet little coffee shop where I could stop...and sit...and have a little something warm to drink...and open my Christmas cards, which I'd been saving for such a moment. I needed that pause like nothing else.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPECEMfEcH8nw-F0Qu1M8nG4Z5GZXs8rfzk4yN6-F1n1WR4BldcNmz0n7_Yerc2y24E5X6-cZvg4kz7uiyBtlOweh4T07_7hO0Gp2eA-61nz9xTcvrXc4cSu5siD1Wnb8KN_mR4Z0jXesO/s1600/christmascornerB.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPECEMfEcH8nw-F0Qu1M8nG4Z5GZXs8rfzk4yN6-F1n1WR4BldcNmz0n7_Yerc2y24E5X6-cZvg4kz7uiyBtlOweh4T07_7hO0Gp2eA-61nz9xTcvrXc4cSu5siD1Wnb8KN_mR4Z0jXesO/s1600/christmascornerB.jpg" height="295" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">One of my quiet places...<u><br /></u></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<b>That hour in a corner</b> of a coffee shop saved me. I could feel myself coming back to life. One hour spent decompressing bought me several more of productivity on a jam-packed night. If I'd gone right instead of left, I never would have made it through.<br />
<br />
So what about the technovert? Thanks for your patience. I'm almost there!<br />
<div>
<br />
According to Susan Cain, author of the best-selling book on introversion, "Quiet" and highlighted interviewee of the Readers Digest article I've been referencing the last several weeks, introverts prefer communicating electronically rather than by phone, for the same reason I went left instead of right.<br />
<br />
It's because, as she noted, "sending a text is far less stimulating than having a conversation with someone. It allows us to connect without having to be so 'on.'"<br />
<br />
Introvert alert: you get it don't you? Yep, I thought so. <br />
<br />
A corner in the coffee shop reading Christmas cards was like a text. It allowed me to deal with life at my own pace. The busy supermarket with few hiding places would have been like a phone conversation. And it would have taken from me what I did not have left to give.<br />
<div>
<b><br /></b>
<b>In the same interview,</b> the questioner also noted that texting and emailing allow communication on one's own time frame, which seems to fit the introverted among us. "I'm an introvert," she said "and when email was invented, it was the best day of my life."<br />
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<b>
</b>To which Cain responded, "I felt that way, too. Introverts want to process things before they articulate them, and when you're having a (phone or in-person) conversation, you can't do that."<br />
<br />
Bingo! I could share so many examples to illustrate this very point. But if you're an introvert, you don't really need me to. You just know.<br />
<br />
So what about you? Do you tend to screen phone calls, and fall on texts and email as your main modes of communication? If so, it's likely you're an introvert.<br />
<br />
Given all this, it's plain to see we introverts live in a time that suits us well. With technology at our disposal, and our preferred method of communication, we're set. As usual, we just need to make sure we balance that out with real-life interactions.<br />
<br />
Fellow introverts, I know I'm not telling you anything you don't already know. I just want to remind you that you're not alone.<br />
<br />
<b>Q4U: Email or phone call?</b> <br />
<br />
<br /></div>
</div>
Roxane B. Salonenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01459456545891720716noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-118446595290355036.post-8902710169988717392014-12-10T00:00:00.000-06:002014-12-10T00:00:04.594-06:00Introversion Series: Holidays Pacing<br />
<b>As a sprinter who</b> eventually found her happy place in middle distance, I was forced to learn the fine art of pacing as a runner. My inclination was to go all out in the first 100 yards (as it was when I first began), but I soon learned better. Each leg needed to have my best, not just the first.<br />
<br />
The need for this is no less important for the introvert during the holidays. I was just sharing with my Bible study today how many community offerings woo me this time of year; everything from my kids' Advent and Christmas programs to college presentations of the Nutcracker and other annual delights.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgniV3iHh51XehHubQLlslj1zZ3hqmlBmQ2M8hFXPb7nynf1eONvbpOceXFqgFI-sDz0AOm7M_Do5RobhvqRQ-0uX7Ms_nmFWd7n3SyXzsRUWV9kZRM5skdGboaVMteZlJTAKpljq0-fF6X/s1600/carolers.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgniV3iHh51XehHubQLlslj1zZ3hqmlBmQ2M8hFXPb7nynf1eONvbpOceXFqgFI-sDz0AOm7M_Do5RobhvqRQ-0uX7Ms_nmFWd7n3SyXzsRUWV9kZRM5skdGboaVMteZlJTAKpljq0-fF6X/s1600/carolers.jpg" height="400" width="271" /></a></b> </div>
<br />
"If we wanted to, we could be busy with holiday events every single night," a friend said, and it's true.<br />
<br />
But is that a good idea? In a recent Reader's Digest interview, Susan Cain, author of the best-selling book on introversion, "Quiet," said that introverts shouldn't accept all the invitations they may receive during this time of year. "Give yourself a social quota; decide how many functions to attend, and offer your regrets with regard to the others."<br />
<br />
<b>For the ones you do</b> accept, she said, if needed, you can plan an early exit. "You don't have to stay for the whole thing," she said. "I have a friend who always leaves after an hour and 35 minutes."<br />
<br />
And that's okay. It really is. Because, after all, this time of year is all about what I call the "white spaces." Without them, we can easily drown. Filling up the blank slates of our lives each day with only black marks of busy will bring us introverts to the brink. It's tempting, but resist the urge to say yes to every star-light invitation that comes your way.<br />
<br />
I've had to say no to a few things already this season, and while I do admit to feeling a tinge of guilt, in the end, it felt so right to prioritize holiday events. One way that helped narrow it down was realizing that our children right now keep us plenty busy with holiday events that bring precious warmth to my heart. So as long as I have children who are involved in these productions, I'm going to focus on their events for now. Soon enough, they'll be out of the nest, and I'll be yearning for a Christmas play or concert somewhere, but focusing on our small circle really works quite well at this phase, and makes logical sense, too.<br />
<br />
<b>Q4U: Are you strong enough to say "No" to some of the holiday invitations the might come your way so you can say "Yes" to the ones that matter most</b>? Roxane B. Salonenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01459456545891720716noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-118446595290355036.post-29764731475055077162014-12-03T00:00:00.000-06:002014-12-03T00:00:00.368-06:00Introversion Series: 'Quiet Little Corners'<br />
<b>What is the deal with those</b> introverts anyway? Why do they -- ahem, why do WE -- seem to always be running off into a quiet little corner somewhere? <br />
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<br />
It might surprise you to find out the real reason why. Because, truth be told, we're not trying to be evasive. We introverts need other people as much as anyone. But as Susan Cain (of the bestselling "Quiet" book) mentioned in a recent Reader's Digest interview, many introverts are highly creative individuals, and creativity usually involves being by oneself.<br />
<br />
But why? I found Susan's answer intriguing. <i>In order to access original ideas. </i><br />
<br />
Think about it. How easy is it to access original ideas in the middle of a bustling party? Nearly impossible, right? I'm not saying it can't be done, and I know some people work best with lots of noise all around. But to be truly creative and go to the depths enough to reach those original thoughts, such as that which might be required to craft a story, a person needs to fall into some kind of hole; they need to insulate themselves somehow.<br />
<br />
<b>I've been fascinated</b> by a book I stumbled upon recently that offers, in my humble opinion, an extraordinary glimpse of the Holocaust. Now, I know that typically, studying this unfortunate time in our history can be downright depressing. But in the case of Etty Hillesum's diaries, "An Interrupted Life," and the followup, "Letters from Westerbork," the depressive element was constantly tempered, page after page, with incredible insight.<br />
<br />
Much of her illuminations were spiritual in nature, but some had to do with more ordinary things -- the pursuit of writing, for example. Not that writing can't be a spiritual exercise -- I find it often is. But for Etty and many of us, it also fills a mental need, as well as an almost physical need to get what's in our heads out and onto paper.<br />
<br />
I was transfixed reading about Etty's departure from Amsterdam, where she enjoyed daily sessions at her beloved writing desk, to the concentration camp where, initially, she worked for the Jewish Council, and then later, became an "inmate." Through all of that, the quest for a quiet place to write, with some sort of writing tools at hand, became a regular pursuit -- almost as much so as finding the next meal.<br />
<br />
At one point, Etty describes it this way (p.326):<br />
<br />
<b>"In the mornings when I</b> wake up, I lie cocooned in these stories; it is a rich awakening, you know. But then I get twinges of pain; the ideas and images simply demand to be written down, but there is nowhere for me to sit in peace."<br />
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Sometimes, she said, she would "walk around for hours looking for a quiet little corner."<br />
<br />
"Once a stray cat came in during the night," she continued. "We put a hatbox for it on the WC, and it had kittens inside. <i>I sometimes feel like a stray cat without a hatbox</i>." (my emphasis)<br />
<br />
Did that image ever hit home for me. How often have I searched for a quiet little corner to write, and with not much luck? My life is often about this very thing!<br />
<br />
A short time later, just a few paragraphs away in fact, she writes of finding a newly discovered corner in a wing of a hospital canteen, "a place to which I shall be able to withdraw now and then for a little while."<br />
<br />
But then, just a few sentences later: "Well dear Lord, I thought I had found a quiet little spot but it is suddenly full of kitchen staff with clattering pans of stew and hospital staff settling down around the trestle tables to eat."<br />
<br />
<b>How I feel for Etty.</b> And how I would have liked to provide for her a quiet corner where she could have found respite to write even more of her beautiful words.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbEEdZgfoj2Jy-8IyHkN7OlMn9UpW1XBmdxHC7D7WaDtvf5gPkkhyfusFTDO9lNJt3_DPuVxU1018iPIXKwFG4gjd3hukX62LODnTsv2UbGmGae23-3D4skfPs7RZnYWJjECPuiHecRiqH/s1600/quietbookB.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbEEdZgfoj2Jy-8IyHkN7OlMn9UpW1XBmdxHC7D7WaDtvf5gPkkhyfusFTDO9lNJt3_DPuVxU1018iPIXKwFG4gjd3hukX62LODnTsv2UbGmGae23-3D4skfPs7RZnYWJjECPuiHecRiqH/s1600/quietbookB.jpg" height="378" width="400" /></a> </div>
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We all need that at certain times, but Etty needed it as much as food almost. She had a hunger to record her thoughts, even in those circumstances -- especially in them -- and in order to access her original ideas, she simply had to find a place away from the noisy, crowded barracks.<br />
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I have gone on too long about this, I'm afraid, but but Susan Cain and Etty Hillesum converged in my mind tonight, and I thought Etty's descriptions too beautiful not to include. Reading about her predicament made me appreciate not only the need for those quiet little corners, but also the fact that, despite them being elusive at times, they are necessary to us writers, and introverts in general. Without them, we cannot think, and without the chance to think and process, we can easily find life nearly unbearable.<br />
<br />
At some point, Etty lost her quiet little corners altogether as she left with her mother, father and brother on a transport train heading to their final destination of Auschwitz, Poland. I ache to think of it, and yet perhaps I can do something, even now. So, in her honor, I commit to using the corners I have at my disposal as well and wisely as possible from here on out. Won't you consider the same?<br />
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<b>Q4U: Where are your quiet little corners?</b>Roxane B. Salonenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01459456545891720716noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-118446595290355036.post-36458015151887703382014-11-26T00:00:00.000-06:002014-11-26T00:00:02.467-06:00Introversion Series: It's Biological <br />
<b>Fifty bucks says</b> the person flopped over at the desk in the middle is an introvert.<br />
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqFbffoeCJEDc7ysJ3g5ZmlW1MxweXA9mjdsCaBjp2QLUOGPmIWM6ZJ6MACrUTFBZnfzDYrAULGrNZjP-8G9pLOoUG62F_KkqUk26oX623idBuLI8BW1j6GllRwXs-zzanBIAmhqbzLcMo/s1600/napper.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqFbffoeCJEDc7ysJ3g5ZmlW1MxweXA9mjdsCaBjp2QLUOGPmIWM6ZJ6MACrUTFBZnfzDYrAULGrNZjP-8G9pLOoUG62F_KkqUk26oX623idBuLI8BW1j6GllRwXs-zzanBIAmhqbzLcMo/s1600/napper.jpg" height="265" width="400" /></a></b> </div>
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Okay, well there are other possibilities too, but given a typical work week day, I'd hedge my bets on that.<br />
<br />
A while back I started a series on introversion. My compulsion to write on introversion stemmed, in large part, from reading Susan Cain's wildly popular book, "Quiet: The Power of Introverts in a World That Can't Stop Talking."<br />
<br />
Some of my best blog and Facebook conversions in the past year have surrounded my ruminations on the topic based on Cain's findings, and gratefully, I just received a fresh infusion of introversion, thanks to my mother. Mom knows about the introversion stuff and, loving me as she does, she sent me an article she ripped out of her Reader's Digest titled, "The Patron Saint of Introverts." (Dec. 14/Jan. 15 issue)<br />
<br />
Funny, based on the title alone I thought it was going to be a Catholic piece, but it wasn't at all. Rather, the article was based on an interview with Cain on her Quiet Revolution, a business she co-founded following the success of her book.<br />
<br />
<b>Cain and I are the same</b> age, 46, so it makes even more sense to me why her work has resonated so "loudly" (in a quiet sort of way) with me. We came into the world at the same time, so we've been living this introversion stuff for exactly the same duration. In that way, we are very much in sync.<br />
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With the holiday season upon us, we introverts face a few more challenges than usual, so I think the timing is perfect to break apart this little interview piece by piece. I hope it will bring some sense of solace to all my introverted friends out there. And to the extroverts, as before, I hope it will bring helpful insight. After all, even though we introverts are in the minority, there are enough of us out there bumping elbows with extroverts that it makes sense for us to understand one another.<br />
<br />
Since I'm not an extrovert, I can't write about the extroversion experience, only the introversion, so let's begin with the first bit (with future Q/As to come in subsequent posts):<br />
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<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="color: purple;"><u>Q (Reader's Digest):</u> How do you describe an introvert?</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
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<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="color: purple;"><u>A (Susan Cain):</u> An introvert feels drained after a party; an extrovert feels invigorated. In other words, an introvert recharges by being on his or her own, and an extrovert is energized by being around others. </span></div>
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But we already knew that, right? Wait now, let's listen to the rest of Cain's answer. This intrigued me. <br />
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<span style="color: purple;">It's a metaphor for what's happening biologically - an introvert's nervous system is more sensitive to stimulation.</span><br />
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You want to make another bet? I'll bet there are a lot of introverts who were colicky babies. I was among them. But it makes sense, doesn't it? If introverts are sensitive to stimulation, they likely had this "condition" since the beginning.<br />
<br />
Case in point. Our oldest son is the most staunchly introverted of our kids, and he was colicky too as an infant. It's jiving so far.<br />
<br />
If you didn't see the connection between the introvert and the upcoming holidays before, hopefully by now you're all caught up:<br />
<br />
Holidays + introverts = potential disaster.<br />
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If you're an introvert, you're going to have to pace yourself. And it's okay. You're likely to be drained by all the gatherings upcoming. That means in order to find your balance, you're going to have to make the time to go off by yourself somewhere.<br />
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<b><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSMjQbSq7Pec8qbWKF553HgNX8c9tCKO5cVUTQ3TmpY2D-J-mTsqyolcUf8QFdmDihPDzuUpLsvuZiUddAxqZkmUqERBBqr-QyvkyARsxJWEKoPI05kUvi-C37tkfDuWgxz4aZy81stNUx/s1600/turkey+loner.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSMjQbSq7Pec8qbWKF553HgNX8c9tCKO5cVUTQ3TmpY2D-J-mTsqyolcUf8QFdmDihPDzuUpLsvuZiUddAxqZkmUqERBBqr-QyvkyARsxJWEKoPI05kUvi-C37tkfDuWgxz4aZy81stNUx/s1600/turkey+loner.jpg" height="640" width="426" /></a></b> </div>
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<b>That can be a tall order,</b> especially if you have young children or other confines that make getting away difficult. But do what you can, even if it just means shutting down earlier, or taking some nice, cozy naps.<br />
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If you do that, you have to promise me that those little spans away from the commotion will be guilt free, okay? You are who you are. You don't need to apologize to anyone for that.<br />
<br />
Discovering my introversion has empowered me to politely arrange my life during such times in a way that I can make the best use of my energy, enjoy the people around me, and have something left for later. Yes, there might be a bit of having to plan ahead to make it work, or adjustments to make along the way, but if you respect and honor your introverted nature, life is going to be a lot more manageable -- for you and all the wonderful people in your life.<br />
<br />
Just remember, if you feel inclined to get down on yourself about all this, it's a biological thing. The same reason you are drained at gatherings is the same thing that makes you such a creative, dynamic individual when your "battery pack" is charged up once again.<br />
<br />
Go easy on yourself. Enjoy the gatherings while you can. And when it gets too much, go find a quiet corner, shut down, and let yourself recharge.<br />
<br />
<b>Q4U: When did you first realize you're an introvert (if you are one)? If you're an extrovert, how has understanding the introverts that surround you helped your life go more smoothly</b>?Roxane B. Salonenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01459456545891720716noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-118446595290355036.post-50761655040755802492014-11-19T00:00:00.000-06:002014-11-19T06:59:57.122-06:00#GraceOfYes North Dakota Style<br>
<b>It didn't take me long</b> to get hooked, to find something that seemed so rich I had to run over to Facebook and post it, like I do when I happen upon a truth I think will resonate with and/or encourage others:<br>
<i><br></i>
<i>"At the core of each of us lies the conviction that by encountering us, others ought to know at least some tiny measure of God's enduring love."</i><br>
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Beautifully put and so true!<br>
<br>
These words come from the heart of my friend, Lisa Hendey, who has just launched her book, "The Grace of Yes." In writing this book, Lisa wants us to take her hand and travel with her through the yeses in her life so that we might be encouraged to say yes more often, and more exuberantly, too.<br>
<br>
Because she so completely believes in the message, Lisa asked her friends over at <a href="http://catholicmom.com/">Catholicmom.com</a>, the website she founded and to which I contribute regularly, to help spread the news of "The Grace of Yes." Here's the #GraceOfYes North Dakota style:<br>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVnJ8BSBgoP1KXpq6PQLx_PCiTurE8pQMUTIYWMomBJr3jaugz3HDKQmyElp1UqjarV6WeBdWgm2CdJ49z4jU2N_ZbJ81jpOMrtAZgzM1KRMkgi17Vy0uS7Bx-6qo_PrV08ygHXWMN1CtT/s1600/GraceOfYesGLOW.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVnJ8BSBgoP1KXpq6PQLx_PCiTurE8pQMUTIYWMomBJr3jaugz3HDKQmyElp1UqjarV6WeBdWgm2CdJ49z4jU2N_ZbJ81jpOMrtAZgzM1KRMkgi17Vy0uS7Bx-6qo_PrV08ygHXWMN1CtT/s1600/GraceOfYesGLOW.jpg" height="400" width="372"></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTYPqdK7a1w9Z33cBjLIdebzEjboJBcxyOHHIg0ntbRSzk7RgUmM97eqE9sq2FCBfoQ_KuTwMjK040Cm_3zX_HI1zNA0v1cl16jLKT4WhIFbB3eN1nxo0EMsf9nAwfaVCzwRfssQfBi6r_/s1600/GraceOfYes.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a> </div>
<b>Even before yesterday's</b> Grace of Yes Day, which had Lisa's friends and fans posting photos of themselves all over social media to shine light on her book...<br>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-nP9waOkoTa40KGqYI3P-0wq3gyELVcSHy-yq3BJzN273IOnWgPxfV_EsvDwJaoe-pECKrp7xSSo7P9L73ADzmvv-GHadCUak4HqWWqf00vidgrTocz3-bgNTlH8My3RadAquex_0Fdns/s1600/gracemom.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-nP9waOkoTa40KGqYI3P-0wq3gyELVcSHy-yq3BJzN273IOnWgPxfV_EsvDwJaoe-pECKrp7xSSo7P9L73ADzmvv-GHadCUak4HqWWqf00vidgrTocz3-bgNTlH8My3RadAquex_0Fdns/s1600/gracemom.jpg" height="225" width="400"></a> </div>
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<b> </b><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9TTSmALtLkKYZ7S88BKG9Eoy7UUaDOrvipKg1itk8nCTnht7VnJiHPWF9O4jUwZI9CZ3oC3pwHMQYeHcmmh0LLoLvFzObW0lJfNTs9XYKjhI0e76B5Wc1Yrm-mu7FgRzXfaqfCSzLxt6c/s1600/greggrace.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9TTSmALtLkKYZ7S88BKG9Eoy7UUaDOrvipKg1itk8nCTnht7VnJiHPWF9O4jUwZI9CZ3oC3pwHMQYeHcmmh0LLoLvFzObW0lJfNTs9XYKjhI0e76B5Wc1Yrm-mu7FgRzXfaqfCSzLxt6c/s1600/greggrace.jpg" height="298" width="400"></a></div>
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<b><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZOtGBEYpf8N2aABLfynWg5R1BQ3f5Y_YTGi_akTtJxzlZhYwh8DCEFuC_uI3t8mdhOKZz_BwOAUdH-3lJXeHBmrY784JDUkg43ChOH1ZUgd4ykbp_C2jUzVfThU1ZaNGyO8eBFK0qPvnI/s1600/srjulia.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZOtGBEYpf8N2aABLfynWg5R1BQ3f5Y_YTGi_akTtJxzlZhYwh8DCEFuC_uI3t8mdhOKZz_BwOAUdH-3lJXeHBmrY784JDUkg43ChOH1ZUgd4ykbp_C2jUzVfThU1ZaNGyO8eBFK0qPvnI/s1600/srjulia.jpg" height="225" width="400"></a></b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br></div>
She was nudging us into the excitement by asking us to help name the goldfish on the book's cover.<br>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDZBgRriQUFDvDy3bWK2U7hb9418Lv5qNkS_HNQsvAlVXyXujVPhY7g5JFeknwdYlJdBaqf4JEfkB1DHW4A-snnHIYAPZfumQkiIG5s4iwS-Dmw1Bvhkk8Ixh0KZHU38hvjljiKYlBXu38/s1600/cover-Grace-of-Yes-3D-e1414081629393-261x400.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDZBgRriQUFDvDy3bWK2U7hb9418Lv5qNkS_HNQsvAlVXyXujVPhY7g5JFeknwdYlJdBaqf4JEfkB1DHW4A-snnHIYAPZfumQkiIG5s4iwS-Dmw1Bvhkk8Ixh0KZHU38hvjljiKYlBXu38/s1600/cover-Grace-of-Yes-3D-e1414081629393-261x400.png" height="400" width="260"></a> </div>
<br>
<a href="http://www.patheos.com/blogs/lisahendey/2014/10/meet-fiat-the-goldfish/" target="_blank">"Fiat"</a> turned out to be the winning entry! I love it. And from early indications, the book and its resident fish seem to be doing swimmingly.<br>
<br>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhCyVuwQU-FzR36A_vXAwgkWfIoB3vPMOB0MbS-llLu1RfdoyRVfAehXmWPBAT2HCs8Sg8S3dcM6L1Mwx_i8ZlZbIIaJkvvIBAeO2cW3D-AksnIMNOdIwJmQelNEDDTcVbLxe8PKsYhNHx/s1600/fiat.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhCyVuwQU-FzR36A_vXAwgkWfIoB3vPMOB0MbS-llLu1RfdoyRVfAehXmWPBAT2HCs8Sg8S3dcM6L1Mwx_i8ZlZbIIaJkvvIBAeO2cW3D-AksnIMNOdIwJmQelNEDDTcVbLxe8PKsYhNHx/s1600/fiat.jpg" height="200" width="200"></a></div>
<br>
<b>The subtitle of Lisa's book, </b>"Eight Virtues for Generous Living," indicates the direction Lisa wants to take us; guiding us through how she came to say "yes" to the graces of <i>belief, generativity, creativity, integrity, humility, vulnerability, saying no, and rebirth</i>.<br>
<br>
It's a perfect time of year to ponder the "yeses" in our life. As we approach Advent, we are getting ready to recall God's "yes" to us when he sent his only son into the world to teach us how to live and love, and even die. We will be pondering in our hearts, as Mary did, the yes that came from her heart, allowing the miracle to be.<br>
<br>
Blogger Elizabeth Scalia wrote an article on Patheos, <a href="http://www.patheos.com/blogs/theanchoress/2014/11/12/in-the-land-of-no-yes-is-a-most-dangerous-word/" target="_blank">"In the Land of No, 'Yes' is a most dangerous word."</a><br>
<br>
In it, Elizabeth says:<b> </b><i>"Everything grows in 'Yes.'"</i> Aint
it true? Yes is a living, growing, expanding word, whereas No seems
restrictive, dying, anti-climactic.<br>
<br>
Sometimes, we have
to say No, but I want to live a life like Lisa proposes; a life full
of a propensity toward Yes, especially when it brings with it the potential to expand goodness and love.<br>
<br>
<b>All of this talk of "yes"</b> has made me think on some of my own yeses. The most obvious seems my yes to our kids...#1, 2, 3, 4, 5 and 6. Our #3 is a perpetual guiding light to us, though no longer here. As for the rest? Sometimes, the daily yeses to them come with a forced smile. Other times, with an easy grin. But just today, I was thinking of our kids and how much less my life would have been if even one had been a "No."<br>
<br>
<i>Help me be a "Yes" girl, Lord. It's always the better way.</i><br>
<br>
I'm thinking, too, about the movie my husband and I saw on our date night this weekend, "Fury," the powerful World War II film starring Brad Pitt. In it, one of the characters, played by Shia LaBeouf, is trying to psyche himself up for doing what needs doing -- facing the enemy head on. He pulls out a verse from Scripture, Isaiah 6:8: "Then I heard the voice of the Lord saying, 'Whom shall I send?'...And I said, 'Here am I. Send me!'" <br>
<br>
Now there's a Yes that inspires -- sacrificing it all for the Lord, even though you know it means heading out to the front lines.<br>
<br>
How far are you willing to go with your yes? Part way or all the way?<br>
<br>
By the way, since Lisa sent me a gift, a signed copy of her book...<br>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBMc3fXW43RtAAK9JdkoBKBVvxeT3y1g2zlhBmxfO-wt_VJRJTbekccIFSYhrmEec14da_ySkJA1L7bCQ81V6kEkNjaZgfZwnnk_8Fh_e8ZUq6SLAbfLut4OnzDp5wGdYZ6pbS1Z67_iAg/s1600/grace.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBMc3fXW43RtAAK9JdkoBKBVvxeT3y1g2zlhBmxfO-wt_VJRJTbekccIFSYhrmEec14da_ySkJA1L7bCQ81V6kEkNjaZgfZwnnk_8Fh_e8ZUq6SLAbfLut4OnzDp5wGdYZ6pbS1Z67_iAg/s1600/grace.jpg" height="300" width="400"></a> </div>
<br>
I have an extra that I'm going to give to the first person to comment today! <br>
<br>
<b>Q4U: What does your "Yes" entail? </b><br>
<br>
<br>Roxane B. Salonenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01459456545891720716noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-118446595290355036.post-68576647453213707232014-11-05T00:00:00.000-06:002014-11-05T00:00:03.244-06:00Election Hangover of Hope<br />
<b>By the time this posts,</b> it will all be over. The votes will have been tallied, and winners and losers decided. The victory parties will be in full motion while the defeated will, post-concession, rightly retreat and rest until the next round.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgwA_MXwEss_YFOMFM3UR1b3wp8_zNFKLltzFjSmuNZcJH3U3nIcTOqs2QsSEVtgAamApQiz6g3lIXSDbT35vlpxYJ2B35_ABWDZ4s-WXwY9hHtnSFqRTn4SMNBPg49JwFN6xzmdWIQnSd/s1600/voted.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgwA_MXwEss_YFOMFM3UR1b3wp8_zNFKLltzFjSmuNZcJH3U3nIcTOqs2QsSEVtgAamApQiz6g3lIXSDbT35vlpxYJ2B35_ABWDZ4s-WXwY9hHtnSFqRTn4SMNBPg49JwFN6xzmdWIQnSd/s1600/voted.jpg" height="400" width="300" /></a> </div>
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All will be oldish news already by the time you read these words, and yet the pride I am feeling just fresh from the voting booth and over this election will remain well after the last political sign is pulled from the front lawn. <br />
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Maybe it's because I'm old enough to truly and fully appreciate the chance to vote. My 46 years of life mean that I've been able to take part in this process for 28 years now. That's a whole lot of little oval circles waiting to be filled in, and a whole lot of "chads" that have claimed their place in my history, for better or worse.<br />
<br />
This one, I know, will stand out. What I've witnessed here in North Dakota has been incredible; so much so that if the measures I support and the candidates I tout are among the casualties, I still will have the satisfaction of knowing I was part of something amazing. Truly, I stand in awe -- over the process but most of all the people who took part.<br />
<br />
<b>People like <a href="http://thepinkepost.com/" target="_blank">Katie</a></b>, who mightily promoted a measure that meant the world to her due to personal experiences, then took a verbal beating for it by some of her blog readers. She stood proud anyway, despite the lashings. That takes courage.<br />
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXwoNDngF7F50Gh4P18kG0AKMCODedS27xppp4FJe-K1dNpnqQCyjUQ-QJherfgneKV9KD8OKlRUjHoguCvi_FsdDd3SAk2WuNhZJNb2royufEwIPUVJFB9dL_iYmq3G7SeoHzVztohu86/s1600/katie.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXwoNDngF7F50Gh4P18kG0AKMCODedS27xppp4FJe-K1dNpnqQCyjUQ-QJherfgneKV9KD8OKlRUjHoguCvi_FsdDd3SAk2WuNhZJNb2royufEwIPUVJFB9dL_iYmq3G7SeoHzVztohu86/s1600/katie.jpg" height="292" width="400" /></a> </div>
<br />
Or like <a href="http://stepsofstmarys.com/" target="_blank">Sarah,</a> a friend in her 20s who, having recently re-embraced the Catholic faith of her rearing, decided she wasn't going to be just a pray-er but needed to jump into the thick of things as a do-er. Sarah bravely volunteered to help create a video to support a measure to uphold life, knowing she could well lose a big chunk of her old friends over it. She walked into the spotlight boldly and did not relent, even when the rotten tomatoes started coming. Sadly, she did lose some friends, but happily, gained many more.<br />
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhujBGzdSyOESCauXcNEoM_ESeY9FIc7IxO-Ax2v3IdaUaVNWBLtW14mkdwXO7hAZGsSsAus1zdmnCMHFnljxjrMdn-d9Z0y8CQSDTUQDshhQ75TjlE9bwZYWzj5uk-GyyHAPUi96sld2SB/s1600/LFLMeasure1BC.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhujBGzdSyOESCauXcNEoM_ESeY9FIc7IxO-Ax2v3IdaUaVNWBLtW14mkdwXO7hAZGsSsAus1zdmnCMHFnljxjrMdn-d9Z0y8CQSDTUQDshhQ75TjlE9bwZYWzj5uk-GyyHAPUi96sld2SB/s1600/LFLMeasure1BC.jpg" height="261" width="400" /></a> </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
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Or like Betty, a friend who, though now a United States citizen, is originally from Ethiopia. She inspires me every election since she's become an official member of our land, but reminded me this election just how spectacular voting is when, on her Facebook page, she admitted she gets as giddy as a kid in a candy store every election.<br />
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To exemplify her excitement, she shared this quote from a famous children's author:<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZ8RxlWmtc7_V-Gvn3oFFV7TmmGT9QinclVDT21uCPDwUDLAl1G3oyCNuYWaZfDFT_ivZzDVHlmeJRU5vCzwTKoJQK9UYZtOVzbryTMql9bEcaBAfl2yeXfW_NbTecns8PhiZtzsR9kX17/s1600/Seuss.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZ8RxlWmtc7_V-Gvn3oFFV7TmmGT9QinclVDT21uCPDwUDLAl1G3oyCNuYWaZfDFT_ivZzDVHlmeJRU5vCzwTKoJQK9UYZtOVzbryTMql9bEcaBAfl2yeXfW_NbTecns8PhiZtzsR9kX17/s1600/Seuss.png" height="400" width="342" /></a></div>
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These are just a few of the people that made me feel proud to be part of this process; a process that gives us all a voice and vote, should we take up the task -- and we should.<br />
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<b>On Monday, I was</b> invited to be a guest on a local radio program to talk about assisted suicide. The host, in talking of the now well-known Brittany Maynard death by lethal drugs, said that when it comes down to it, it really was Brittany's choice. <br />
<br />
But I have a slightly different thought about it, and culpability. I told her that every action we take has an effect on others. When we make a choice, it reverberates outward beyond ourselves, and the people touched by it touch others, and those others touch others, etc., until this ripple effect reaches far and wide. "We never act in isolation," I said.<br />
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And it's true here, too. Even though we might go into a little cubicle to cast our ballots, our vote ripples outward and has an effect.<br />
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Here's something more. Even if no one else ever sees your vote, God sees it. Even if no one else ever sees what's in your heart, God does. All those hidden things you do everyday -- gestures of kindness so small they might well belong in "Who-ville" (speaking of Dr. Seuss), they count, big.<br />
<br />
Your little stroke of the pen counts. Your small act of mercy counts. And your decision to sacrifice for another in that teeny tiny way? It counts, too.<br />
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<b>Those of you who gave</b> it your all in a way that might seem masked right now in the aftermath of an election, know that whatever it was that you did, that you believed in, if it was good and true, God saw it, and even if you can't see the effect now, you will someday. You truly will.<br />
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A Bible passage in my Magnificat devotional on Voting Day reads thus: "Do not grow slack in zeal, be fervent in spirit, serve the Lord. (Rom 12:11)<br />
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That's all God asks of us -- to take up our pens and fill in the little ovals; to do what we know is right. He'll take care of all the rest of it. <br />
<br />
To those of you who gave it your all, no matter the outcome, I am so very proud of you! Thank you, and may God bless America! (Yes, even those who voted differently than I.)<br />
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<b>Q4U: What election do you most remember, and why? </b>Roxane B. Salonenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01459456545891720716noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-118446595290355036.post-12011174699896896992014-10-29T00:00:00.000-05:002014-10-29T00:00:00.573-05:00Books, Planes and Father Leo<br />
<b>You can tell a lot about </b>a person by what they read, no? And you can tell a lot about a person by what they wear.<br />
<br />
Before I get to my main point, though, let me share a little background. This week, we've had a special guest at our parish. Fr. Leo Patalinghug has been giving a parish mission or retreat, you might say. Some might know Fr. Leo from his weekly cooking show on the Eternal World Television Network (EWTN), or the books he's authored, or his regular radio program. He's also a black belt in karate, and as I learned last night, a beautiful singer.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtAZyuZsoqdQVr3nHtNFwvNJ5wXZa6-ZBL2a4OkHLW19aKwLazGGvr3q2kMMRH55A0wrm715E5wIH9Ta68sJuyx88skrjuS9mLDqwHpbSnSjoQIV8VLKwj-jpULBqVZDLQ9_Xsngnwwzmw/s1600/frleorox2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtAZyuZsoqdQVr3nHtNFwvNJ5wXZa6-ZBL2a4OkHLW19aKwLazGGvr3q2kMMRH55A0wrm715E5wIH9Ta68sJuyx88skrjuS9mLDqwHpbSnSjoQIV8VLKwj-jpULBqVZDLQ9_Xsngnwwzmw/s1600/frleorox2.jpg" height="350" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Fr. Leo and Me Oct. 2013 when he was in Fargo for another event</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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Beyond all that, though, Fr. Leo is a great story teller, and on Monday night, he shared a story about a nine-hour plane ride, whereby he ended up sitting down with a gal who was reading Dan Brown's novel, "The Da Vinci Code." <br />
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When you sit down with someone you don't know on a plane, you can't help but be curious about what they're reading, right? I've had more than one conversation when traveling by air surrounding the subject or title of the book either my seat buddy or I had in hand. Reading material is revealing, and can be good fodder for a conversation.<br />
<br />
<b>Fr. Leo noticed</b> right away that the stranger he'd be traveling next to for nine hours was reading a book that deeply criticizes the Catholic faith and is, incidentally, fiction, in case anyone was wondering.<br />
<br />
As much as he wanted to take a nap, he realized early on that clearly that was not going to happen; not when the woman caught sight of Fr. Leo's garb. He was, after all, wearing his Roman collar, which meant...there was no getting out of it. The nap was nixed.<br />
<br />
"Are you a priest?" the woman asked, closing her book.<br />
<br />
"Why yes, I am," Fr. Leo responded.<br />
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And so it began, and continued, for nine hours. At first, he said, the woman was furious and full of anger. As he listened, he could feel his blood pressure rising. But then something happened. He felt a sense of the Holy Spirit, with a little nudge from Our Blessed Mother, Mary. He was, at that moment, put in his place, and he realized that an articulate defense of the faith was not what this woman needed. More than anything, she just needed someone to listen.<br />
<br />
<b>And so he did. </b>He listened, and listened some more, and more beyond that. I'm sure at some point, he answered some of her questions, and offered consolation. Fr. Leo didn't share the details of what that conversation beheld, but he did tell us that the nine-hour journey ended with the woman insisting on giving him a big old hug.<br />
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Is that not beautiful? I mean, really. Think of the tension that began the plane ride, and how each of them was looking at the other as the enemy, and how God used that opportunity -- a priest seeing a book, a woman seeing his priestly collar -- to encourage a discussion; a discussion that turned fruitful and full of love.<br />
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God can use anything to reach His people. Even a book on a plane. You never know when the opportunities will come. They can come anytime, including just when you're just about to nod off into dreamland and take that long-awaited luxury nap.<br />
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God bless Fr. Leo, and God bless the woman whose heart was listened to, then softened. That we all would see such opportunity as it presents itself.<br />
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<b>Q4U: Do you have a book-on-plane story? What fruitful conversations have you had on an airplane, if any?</b><br />
<br />Roxane B. Salonenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01459456545891720716noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-118446595290355036.post-27838724741469678402014-10-22T00:00:00.000-05:002014-10-22T06:50:24.640-05:00Words Like Swords<br>
<b>Sometimes, words can feel</b> like swords. <br>
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That's how I felt the other day while reading the newspaper. I was so excited to know that the story I'd heard might run had found light. I know a lot of the people involved in the story, which surrounds the fact that our local Catholic high school has been asked to carry the lead banner in the 2015 March for Life in D.C. in January.<br>
<br>
I'd heard a few days after the fact that the story had been in. Leafing through past issues to find it, I saw <a href="http://www.inforum.com/content/shanley-high-students-lead-hundreds-thousands-januarys-march-life-washington-dc" target="_blank">the headline and photo</a> and my heart leaped. I've been on those same steps before as a chaperone. I remember being with all of those young people and knowing that our presence counted; that the 25-hour bus ride and swollen feet were worth more than a couple days playing hooky.<br>
<br>
I was delighted, too, to note the main subject of the piece: Julia Johnson, the sweet daughter of my beautiful friend Roberta, who left our world a couple years ago as the result of cancer. Roberta had been ardently pro-life from all angles -- from the womb all the way to making sure her neighbors wouldn't go hungry. Could there be any better pro-life student spokesperson than her own daughter?<br>
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<b>But then, as I continued</b> reading the first paragraph, my heart spiraled downward. "Julia Johnson has walked blocks and blocks each year in Washington, D.C., to support anti-abortion activism."<br>
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Anti-abortion activism? I realize that some would say this is accurate -- even some in the pro-life camp, as this writer does <a href="http://www.abortionreason.com/antiabortion-vs-prolife.php" target="_blank">here</a>. But it doesn't seem quite right to me, and I'm questioning whether this is the way Julie Johnson thinks of what she will be doing in D.C. come January.<br>
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Pro-life, pro-woman, pro-baby, pro-birth, pro-lots-of-things, yes, but <i>anti</i>...four little letters that take the whole meaning of something and turn it on its head. Four letters that convey something so very different than what Julia and her mother would hold to be what they're all about, I'm thinking.<br>
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Roberta was a person of great optimism. When I interviewed her on Catholic radio in her final year, she was so amazing in how she approached her illness. When people said they wanted to pray for a miracle, she poo-pooed that. She wanted things to go exactly as God had planned it, whatever that meant. It was amazing to be near her at that time and witness her vibrant, optimistic faith.<br>
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Thinking now about her vivacious personality, it's possible Roberta would have been okay with "anti-abortion activism." She did like to call things what they were. But I have a feeling, because she was all about life-all-the-way, across the spectrum, she'd prefer "pro-life."<br>
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<b>I want to make it clear that</b> I value the written word and our community newspapers. I've also worked in that newsroom before and know it's no easy task to pump out stories day after day under pressure. All in all, I'm grateful for the story and I think the reporter did a really great job on it. I just struggle with the negative connotations of "anti." <br>
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But if we're going to go<b> </b>with anti-abortion, I think it's only fair to go with "anti-life" then, too, in describing those who hold opposing views to the marchers. And yet, that doesn't seem fair either, does it? So how can we be judicious about this? Even the writer of the article linked above conceded that we haven't found a perfect solution to this dilemma; it's still a work in progress in terms of how to best name these opposing sides.<br>
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Just a couple days after I read this piece, I opened the paper and found this headline: "Roman Catholic bishops drop moves to accept gays." There it is again. Words like swords. That's one loaded headline. So loaded I don't even know where to begin in my commentary of it.<br>
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<b>That's when I realize</b>, I'm powerless over this machine. As long as the discrepancy between what we hold in our hearts and what others believe we believe exists, and as long as it's purported the way the machine sees it even if we see it otherwise, we're just going to have to suck it up.<br>
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The only weapons I have in the face of this conundrum is 1) a humble little blog, where I am allowed to have an opinion and share it, and maybe it will make a difference, but probably it won't; and 2) prayer.<br>
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Words are important and they matter, a lot, but at the end of the day, as a woman of faith, I'm back knowing that the battle I'm fighting won't be won by weapons or words or words-as-weapons. It will be won by love, one action at a time. That's it. That's the most I can do, the best thing I can do, the most powerful, mighty, honorable, brave, amazing thing I can do.<br>
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Just love. Few words, if any. Mostly just surrendering to Almighty God and saying, I'll be your servant, but you're in the lead. And then stepping in to continue to do what I can each day to love well, through word and deed.<br>
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<b>Q4U: When have words felt defeating to you?</b>Roxane B. Salonenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01459456545891720716noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-118446595290355036.post-76375661760737524612014-10-15T00:00:00.000-05:002014-10-15T14:57:02.398-05:00The Colors of Carmel Fall 2014<br>
<b>This weekend, I had a chance</b> to hole away at the Carmelite monastery here in North Dakota.<br>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXi6hN3ZT84_SCZOEhawayXp4VId5mGkprJbwp_k1KmtP8DOaJhWtN-AH2hyphenhyphenhtrRpWvRGr-U9LL_ZP7CuAhAWx3cHsCjH1lKBRvfvFHpBtRo-m7NefvHJCPQTxIE2C8FG1p8MUgdcWmReI/s1600/CarmelF14Sparse.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXi6hN3ZT84_SCZOEhawayXp4VId5mGkprJbwp_k1KmtP8DOaJhWtN-AH2hyphenhyphenhtrRpWvRGr-U9LL_ZP7CuAhAWx3cHsCjH1lKBRvfvFHpBtRo-m7NefvHJCPQTxIE2C8FG1p8MUgdcWmReI/s1600/CarmelF14Sparse.jpg" height="266" width="400"></a> </div>
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It wasn't my first stay. Each time after the first that I've gone to Carmel, I have enough sense of familiarity that I wonder whether past visits have given me enough exposure to this beautiful spot of land to the point of leaving little left to discover.<br>
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Yet each visit, I'm surprised by what is new about the place.<br>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQLscqeg8iqvLW1wAWsn2NaqUci_SB_VQwnCRyB9faf139Rv6sl7hbXVxRbiblTn2jpBu4GfsHMsLRDpz_LvUb6E38eRTKdn5n8ptXVOF3XCUzCQqrMo_NL0OPaf49qXmRVunrlFSbpdPd/s1600/CarmelF14Pumpkins.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQLscqeg8iqvLW1wAWsn2NaqUci_SB_VQwnCRyB9faf139Rv6sl7hbXVxRbiblTn2jpBu4GfsHMsLRDpz_LvUb6E38eRTKdn5n8ptXVOF3XCUzCQqrMo_NL0OPaf49qXmRVunrlFSbpdPd/s1600/CarmelF14Pumpkins.jpg" height="400" width="300"></a> </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizgDb6cXM4fYku71dCApy6KYRpMMfnR3cUZLw8BzrjjLyJDW4y5UJpLeMjz3nKiF9Cm509escyrPSFR56lxTw9ARa87jsOjdJGD5QgXsomKHh1E7dHhM8LAShJcmC7SNs3Sa4QO95AdeHA/s1600/CarmelF14Pumpkinpatch.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizgDb6cXM4fYku71dCApy6KYRpMMfnR3cUZLw8BzrjjLyJDW4y5UJpLeMjz3nKiF9Cm509escyrPSFR56lxTw9ARa87jsOjdJGD5QgXsomKHh1E7dHhM8LAShJcmC7SNs3Sa4QO95AdeHA/s1600/CarmelF14Pumpkinpatch.jpg" height="300" width="400"></a></div>
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This visit, it was the color. Oh, there's always been that, but not quite like this, presented in just this way.<br>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgC-GPpJJiXaE3NU-qA12Lpzf72txlkCZ1mjUsItCQaop2qqUjAYN4BtyRoltjeckQjpyXYan5gBooKIufy2yo3WNbKqIM_8mM2SwyZTEPc_5gVsuY1Zt4vz-BZraHyZoX_1-yZ-pqAlhvC/s1600/CarmelF14Berries.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgC-GPpJJiXaE3NU-qA12Lpzf72txlkCZ1mjUsItCQaop2qqUjAYN4BtyRoltjeckQjpyXYan5gBooKIufy2yo3WNbKqIM_8mM2SwyZTEPc_5gVsuY1Zt4vz-BZraHyZoX_1-yZ-pqAlhvC/s1600/CarmelF14Berries.jpg" height="291" width="400"></a> </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPKmHw8L_OH0RQd5A35W2JATh85jni_AFZ88Akk53VmpSrSPs5mQw4VczRwZz3OP_0Mfm0LgM7VQ6wUz0jBbTgiADTxiZK3jHYENSeFEaOli1mFKs7HQ3eu5RRxHrl6FunJf2OhPUnk3LZ/s1600/CarmelF14Branches.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPKmHw8L_OH0RQd5A35W2JATh85jni_AFZ88Akk53VmpSrSPs5mQw4VczRwZz3OP_0Mfm0LgM7VQ6wUz0jBbTgiADTxiZK3jHYENSeFEaOli1mFKs7HQ3eu5RRxHrl6FunJf2OhPUnk3LZ/s1600/CarmelF14Branches.jpg" height="400" width="387"></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWAXeKkngMTbn_9r4ff4XANy4uWaL7Rf5460wxv5mUFNfncJrNVi6MzGWKAavh2I-760iASD5yRaMGGia8CGnB1n-UtsMfOv64FmsV-ZhIP3NGPhue1p_Dr2qQefcsRmvk3XDiTHhlYUj9/s1600/CarmelF14RedGround.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWAXeKkngMTbn_9r4ff4XANy4uWaL7Rf5460wxv5mUFNfncJrNVi6MzGWKAavh2I-760iASD5yRaMGGia8CGnB1n-UtsMfOv64FmsV-ZhIP3NGPhue1p_Dr2qQefcsRmvk3XDiTHhlYUj9/s1600/CarmelF14RedGround.jpg" height="300" width="400"></a> </div>
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One of my favorite batches of photos comes from my and my friend Vicky's first visit together to Carmel. It was absolutely stunning, and the light was incredible. I got a little of that this time, but not at sunset like before. Still, it was a joy to behold.<br>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrN_itaX6RIQz2Q2YAAUshsYW19S7Gn9LgI4l1tho-MKfJ_2tEIONSp4q8aVBt3dvpxpliQA7N690_FHjUY0CRMn_7sBc9jLmSoyzjev-KOxJvhzNsczg2ybL9DueruA-E6bYdpXWGgsuC/s1600/CarmelF14Trees1.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrN_itaX6RIQz2Q2YAAUshsYW19S7Gn9LgI4l1tho-MKfJ_2tEIONSp4q8aVBt3dvpxpliQA7N690_FHjUY0CRMn_7sBc9jLmSoyzjev-KOxJvhzNsczg2ybL9DueruA-E6bYdpXWGgsuC/s1600/CarmelF14Trees1.jpg" height="300" width="400"></a> </div>
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This visit, we didn't find as much of that light play. In fact, after the first day, I wondered if this Carmel stay would produce anything in the way of cherished photos.<br>
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Besides, I was there to work, as I almost always am when I go there. Well, to work, and pray and replenish. Would I even have time to look?<br>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiX_zyZTR5xRCgiKjMOfkcOOp6vLVpHaPIiqGJYGYhRekEAWd2bIvXb0eYVl6I3OL02OV6NovAHLC3C_5olxCfrQJlqcuZzeAa5AnOG7CaKzDaIQ2yn-GrTEkyTO9GMoAV5wq5gutMrxJey/s1600/CarmelF14Purple.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiX_zyZTR5xRCgiKjMOfkcOOp6vLVpHaPIiqGJYGYhRekEAWd2bIvXb0eYVl6I3OL02OV6NovAHLC3C_5olxCfrQJlqcuZzeAa5AnOG7CaKzDaIQ2yn-GrTEkyTO9GMoAV5wq5gutMrxJey/s1600/CarmelF14Purple.jpg" height="320" width="240"></a> </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFaj7yRo3RAa8u0tjFmd8WLovVwpVVEhTVuYaY9PhAX5R5HmICmRBPnBMnkIRUQeioCZWhkX_nE1e6esdIE7Xw9PiZBM8IcEzpzUYvKj6SAebmDT3n25vRSeh_tDzfx08Z97tysScSUs6c/s1600/CarmelF14Rosebud.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFaj7yRo3RAa8u0tjFmd8WLovVwpVVEhTVuYaY9PhAX5R5HmICmRBPnBMnkIRUQeioCZWhkX_nE1e6esdIE7Xw9PiZBM8IcEzpzUYvKj6SAebmDT3n25vRSeh_tDzfx08Z97tysScSUs6c/s1600/CarmelF14Rosebud.jpg" height="320" width="240"></a></div>
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<b>I worked hard. </b>But you can only work so hard for so long. By the third and last day, my brain was tired. So in an inspired moment, I took to the grounds to see what I might see.<br>
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Despite the hazy autumn day, I was amazed by just how much color was there to be discovered.<br>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDFQME_3IO7j_9luFTectFk3CFgR5DsNzPnAruI4sb2bS7VaeGESnTNSWbCKEmz9HIGwzdaHJuBoz9RkqOykmcIRCJZa54rBj6lJcbgf2QsD7mkZaLSeNWIyyE4c9qwkdbB5LuLDRTXzAp/s1600/CarmelF14Cattails.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDFQME_3IO7j_9luFTectFk3CFgR5DsNzPnAruI4sb2bS7VaeGESnTNSWbCKEmz9HIGwzdaHJuBoz9RkqOykmcIRCJZa54rBj6lJcbgf2QsD7mkZaLSeNWIyyE4c9qwkdbB5LuLDRTXzAp/s1600/CarmelF14Cattails.jpg" height="266" width="400"></a> </div>
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Different than other visits. New objects of interest.<br>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjScQzqBhI4fHAw9NBsS_i-BmPmAXMhCVX2ymfAXITkbT4KWz06QVlURF0u4ZR2X1n8_vVbLkuRFWTH6cBBuz8gB9apCQ7RTDSXo3YzPimX3WZ32cCrEWOdkhtHP0UUSoxyGI_H5MeoLDbZ/s1600/CarmelF14Rose2.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjScQzqBhI4fHAw9NBsS_i-BmPmAXMhCVX2ymfAXITkbT4KWz06QVlURF0u4ZR2X1n8_vVbLkuRFWTH6cBBuz8gB9apCQ7RTDSXo3YzPimX3WZ32cCrEWOdkhtHP0UUSoxyGI_H5MeoLDbZ/s1600/CarmelF14Rose2.jpg" height="266" width="400"></a> </div>
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Hints of the Guinea fowl, which I did not spy with my eye this time, though I heard their voices in the distance a couple times. With their African blood I'm sure they're already in holing-up mode themselves, readying for the brutality of winter.<br>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjE5wVoxvQ8EjolcUw8BraQQ5Z429uYAhPpGjOMOmxudBGvBtFyWxWnT0e01FZbsGIjBwr9LKC3hES7zHgCk1C9H4V6AiBOJ34F6_2qU0t4HzPjuwPgTdBxEZQIBv1h8HHKAOWsZyzqr9nz/s1600/CarmelF14Feather.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjE5wVoxvQ8EjolcUw8BraQQ5Z429uYAhPpGjOMOmxudBGvBtFyWxWnT0e01FZbsGIjBwr9LKC3hES7zHgCk1C9H4V6AiBOJ34F6_2qU0t4HzPjuwPgTdBxEZQIBv1h8HHKAOWsZyzqr9nz/s1600/CarmelF14Feather.jpg" height="400" width="300"></a> </div>
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<b>Yes, winter will come.</b> My first visit to Carmel was in February and I will never forget how beautiful it was then, sun gleaming on sparkling snow. But I can only imagine the harsh days, too, and how long it must get.<br>
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Which makes me appreciate the now of it even more.<br>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9Dgz40YIkg064f1Xets-EKJCxMAg5OE4Pjo-WLebk1sx5gt16vHEN-EaehCnPDh2DXlJP5s2ic7gZmxZy4Hluf_RJhQglegf-La2hTcGqj_Llfal7E1m0sJwxFdUl_w9nXvTEwbvosKxR/s1600/CarmelF14Leaves.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9Dgz40YIkg064f1Xets-EKJCxMAg5OE4Pjo-WLebk1sx5gt16vHEN-EaehCnPDh2DXlJP5s2ic7gZmxZy4Hluf_RJhQglegf-La2hTcGqj_Llfal7E1m0sJwxFdUl_w9nXvTEwbvosKxR/s1600/CarmelF14Leaves.jpg" height="300" width="400"></a> </div>
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Carmel is a true gift, and its colors, a refurbishing palette.<br>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiC-5aIOuXjRTPlrAk0hBHgFmLRbmrFzHa4vvBjuppx-W2hd18_zDsOilU2cG8E19gxvPPESqVeUGoLRZojvbhPk-hcyP5kdwkYFkvOtqgG3ZGwbfJ8OVetu1BCNd5kiOyTfjrjx9VjnufJ/s1600/CarmelF14RedGold.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiC-5aIOuXjRTPlrAk0hBHgFmLRbmrFzHa4vvBjuppx-W2hd18_zDsOilU2cG8E19gxvPPESqVeUGoLRZojvbhPk-hcyP5kdwkYFkvOtqgG3ZGwbfJ8OVetu1BCNd5kiOyTfjrjx9VjnufJ/s1600/CarmelF14RedGold.jpg" height="300" width="400"></a> </div>
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This place has a way of reawakening my soul. I will admit, Our Blessed Mother has something to do with it. I will admit, too, that she calls to me every time, and every time I am captivated, and challenged to see her in a new light. This time, I felt her presence more strongly than ever. The statue? It's just a representation of a true spirit that moves through this place, and cradles me in her maternal arms when I am most weary.<br>
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In her post from her impressions the other day, Vicky said, "How can one not feel God (here)? I do not have any urgency to find Him, He is everywhere. I just breathe deep."<br>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFYLmjW67v7ZAxmT2Z53g4x009EN7u5JypygR8Ubx_FzVPB7-jga1jfo2Kw_GBZAVhcRI_zzaknxktbV8l6dkRz9sxlEvEjjCYyA6zitMRa6m-YUwtzNW96GHl5dRclDT_7hxY50-QYFkJ/s1600/CarmelF14RedLeaf.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFYLmjW67v7ZAxmT2Z53g4x009EN7u5JypygR8Ubx_FzVPB7-jga1jfo2Kw_GBZAVhcRI_zzaknxktbV8l6dkRz9sxlEvEjjCYyA6zitMRa6m-YUwtzNW96GHl5dRclDT_7hxY50-QYFkJ/s1600/CarmelF14RedLeaf.jpg" height="300" width="400"></a> </div>
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Yes, yes, that is it Vicky. I feel that too, every single time.<br>
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<b>It is hard to pull away</b> from this nourishing place -- food prepared with love by the Sisters who pray pray pray for you and me...<br>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8R_8z8IP-5ojygjC-lLMEmmZLe_j2EMLrczOLjDnYU9hYVuy8xeVZUriavnZyNS6TAxa0CYKqmamVqYTnxfoLQfFcItIiz4D9u4r7Zb9wBaxtvmHQetye85gGb1Yr1TWjIrTMbssRKK9T/s1600/CarmelF14Food.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8R_8z8IP-5ojygjC-lLMEmmZLe_j2EMLrczOLjDnYU9hYVuy8xeVZUriavnZyNS6TAxa0CYKqmamVqYTnxfoLQfFcItIiz4D9u4r7Zb9wBaxtvmHQetye85gGb1Yr1TWjIrTMbssRKK9T/s1600/CarmelF14Food.jpg" height="400" width="300"></a> </div>
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...doing everything they can to chase away the darkness with their chants.<br>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJZXa_UaLXWAGsqJBkw6-AS1vc01nF_hqKOmoaI8SCMKHbV3Y33NNRcc32ilIeNGzJhXJLSCBo7T0-6hppJ9mJgPa11cOhedcl00cTqEihNQDD0wQkZuWpUXFRredq-Wxf6d33kTLLI9LY/s1600/CarmelF14Night.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJZXa_UaLXWAGsqJBkw6-AS1vc01nF_hqKOmoaI8SCMKHbV3Y33NNRcc32ilIeNGzJhXJLSCBo7T0-6hppJ9mJgPa11cOhedcl00cTqEihNQDD0wQkZuWpUXFRredq-Wxf6d33kTLLI9LY/s1600/CarmelF14Night.jpg" height="300" width="400"></a> </div>
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This time, Mother Joseph Marie wrote me a note my final day there inviting me to early evening prayer. I've sat in on compline before -- the night one -- but not vespers, which happens before supper. Sitting there, listening to the lovely litanies, the enchanting chants, I had the greatest urgency to run back to the guest house for my pillow and curl up on the pew for the evening.<br>
<br>
I cannot see them, only hear. They are cloistered. And as Mother explained to us during a brief visit this stay, their order is one of only about four in the United States that falls under the Carmelite Nuns of the Ancient Observance.<br>
<br>
I feel it here, a sense of being in a place of time gone by. I smell it in the incense, prayers rising up to heaven with few earthly distractions to impede their aromatic billowing.<br>
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It is all very simple, but incredibly deep and rich. Never have I felt peace like here.<br>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaFuXqYePZ3PlYRLFRx19CQ6XZHsyY4ZEAOBjP1P7iJdUWJ7f3wkj5EyHJLzbA5FK-lVa79nd1mMyH1OlQBIKZ9-YAa8BZUittXWG9QDXHoZfox3ntJOerqC81RDtoRzXAnbEuTsEMkYdt/s1600/CarmelF14Primrose.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaFuXqYePZ3PlYRLFRx19CQ6XZHsyY4ZEAOBjP1P7iJdUWJ7f3wkj5EyHJLzbA5FK-lVa79nd1mMyH1OlQBIKZ9-YAa8BZUittXWG9QDXHoZfox3ntJOerqC81RDtoRzXAnbEuTsEMkYdt/s1600/CarmelF14Primrose.jpg" height="266" width="400"></a></div>
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I am privileged to take it in through all my senses. And I will admit, I have a hard time, every time, pulling away. But my life calls, and so I go and enter in again to the noisy world that awaits.<br>
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I sense that God wants me to hold some of this peace in my heart even in my returns home, however, so I am always looking for new ways to bring Carmel back with me -- its beauty, its peace, its smells, its colors.<br>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEia5-KgAKKlDXtJwqt54pFIy-i6oTgE3wR_9ev-qeMIBhVxbuanELsqvLN4K_6_sjdGCrC8JEonsYL5nwHZE1gKAgIgYxMAd1RlskehA6cH8LPAWa7EaSgGwb55E60u0nLxhd2W_YuP_LmC/s1600/CarmelF14MarySide.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEia5-KgAKKlDXtJwqt54pFIy-i6oTgE3wR_9ev-qeMIBhVxbuanELsqvLN4K_6_sjdGCrC8JEonsYL5nwHZE1gKAgIgYxMAd1RlskehA6cH8LPAWa7EaSgGwb55E60u0nLxhd2W_YuP_LmC/s1600/CarmelF14MarySide.jpg" height="300" width="400"></a> </div>
<br>
<b>Q4U: Where did you experience fall most vibrantly this season? </b><br>
<br>
<br>Roxane B. Salonenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01459456545891720716noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-118446595290355036.post-29610900702022146712014-10-08T00:00:00.000-05:002014-10-08T00:00:07.003-05:00When Life Happens...<br />
<b>...the blog sometimes</b> suffers. I have been trying to get back to my regularly scheduled program here, but Peace Garden Writer has been hit the hardest with my fall schedule.<br />
<br />
So what have I been doing to merit my M.I.A. status?<br />
<br />
Well, the crazy started with an out-of-town school author visit, which, I have to say, was one of my favorite so far. The kids were awesome (teachers, too)...<br />
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqcGS37ZjaHcEoppPPWjekytn9z6d7BRbNz7XIDIV8NV8bCiDWrM5rqVMBHjVWhTB4xUuAkGwvaWQ9bbS7x2mGcgcHa_SJ-vXbq_vZNLzp8RORUV4pmdC1jlxwfDF8_N4EiAr6IGV4SZuA/s1600/PinkGirl.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqcGS37ZjaHcEoppPPWjekytn9z6d7BRbNz7XIDIV8NV8bCiDWrM5rqVMBHjVWhTB4xUuAkGwvaWQ9bbS7x2mGcgcHa_SJ-vXbq_vZNLzp8RORUV4pmdC1jlxwfDF8_N4EiAr6IGV4SZuA/s1600/PinkGirl.jpg" height="400" width="300" /></a> </div>
<br />
<span style="color: #0000ee;">...</span>the weather amazing, and the adventure also gave me a chance to see my grandmother and mother, which is always a blessing.<br />
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhv5LT3Q89CNStOxE13x7y_9KRgXJ4zRngBJjuUooOgjf4sd9U5loXVW81B955zCj7EKymiP4RhY0_gJ4E-Nu6INBRCQH3fqIgQNl65SxqIuSwhyphenhyphenRx0V_BGmvxs0V0LsGY-nOQ4McjHktrV/s1600/authorvisit.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhv5LT3Q89CNStOxE13x7y_9KRgXJ4zRngBJjuUooOgjf4sd9U5loXVW81B955zCj7EKymiP4RhY0_gJ4E-Nu6INBRCQH3fqIgQNl65SxqIuSwhyphenhyphenRx0V_BGmvxs0V0LsGY-nOQ4McjHktrV/s1600/authorvisit.jpg" height="400" width="327" /></a> </div>
<br />
We also had a nice visit from the in-laws last weekend. This is "Mom #2" and me.<br />
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0ZIn6TNwpZZUD4fbwY3GsYlDoSKQfsgDyfU3OLXexnRnSpC8gX0BhsuH0hfKFlsLaWcvr0AX3tPUSrJC_MbXecRYPwD3DPahFH3_3UgBu-XNn2tQbKThqaqyt5ozkloUeZYGQX0neVLGM/s1600/Bev+&+Rox_Fotor+(2).jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0ZIn6TNwpZZUD4fbwY3GsYlDoSKQfsgDyfU3OLXexnRnSpC8gX0BhsuH0hfKFlsLaWcvr0AX3tPUSrJC_MbXecRYPwD3DPahFH3_3UgBu-XNn2tQbKThqaqyt5ozkloUeZYGQX0neVLGM/s1600/Bev+&+Rox_Fotor+(2).jpg" height="400" width="400" /></a> </div>
<br />
Grandma and Grandpa filled our boys' and their cousin's bellies with brownies and Mountain Dew then let them sleep over in their hotel room. Weee!<br />
<br />
And speaking of Mountain Dew, a sweet gal I know in basic training needed some encouragement to push through her final couple weeks. This was my attempt.<br />
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-OHjnmUfA_qp-Q7QGqqjnB0Ow_wDkmWYEctBclUWMlL4cgSKksClM2rVwvb0ZyHksl44hTmjOXFSwNrlcInFkdN5IQWPS7Bg08dI6gujb6kz6kW7cnxf7TilJpkYjDrvuUitnLDhue-jL/s1600/MountainDew.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-OHjnmUfA_qp-Q7QGqqjnB0Ow_wDkmWYEctBclUWMlL4cgSKksClM2rVwvb0ZyHksl44hTmjOXFSwNrlcInFkdN5IQWPS7Bg08dI6gujb6kz6kW7cnxf7TilJpkYjDrvuUitnLDhue-jL/s1600/MountainDew.jpg" height="204" width="320" /></a> </div>
<br />
<b>There's been a 17th birthday</b> party in there somewhere, too, along with a chance to assist my daughter in playing hookey over the lunch hour so we could indulge in some Olive Garden. Presenting the post-demolition cake and coffee:<br />
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqQ_uATA-nl-y33qvBM_sVzWBZsV4pAWry38Khd0WzxL7IBgfLY9ydimxz8f2AFqoD4KMsEK3XzggMVoyTfD-54mfCFQFYtXrRtYHNj_pUULYQuD-3YgcBKXzlBwZgY2tySWsA-EFQN0yl/s1600/birthdaycoffee.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqQ_uATA-nl-y33qvBM_sVzWBZsV4pAWry38Khd0WzxL7IBgfLY9ydimxz8f2AFqoD4KMsEK3XzggMVoyTfD-54mfCFQFYtXrRtYHNj_pUULYQuD-3YgcBKXzlBwZgY2tySWsA-EFQN0yl/s1600/birthdaycoffee.jpg" height="400" width="301" /></a> </div>
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Oh, and nails. With teen daughters, this is sometimes a given on these special days. <br />
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijwvb8p9x2zcgy5C3CYvy2tPr7KQ6tgQMDSkAOb24gZeOJYDjKY4JTyL9cNm_BrX6TPtTB8XtiSO-RZb2G_yo9Egek3PuQSClVH-dxWLPDTBg-IblHf_cV0ZlTeJAczMv9h7ag3LH7-rTK/s1600/BirthdayNails.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijwvb8p9x2zcgy5C3CYvy2tPr7KQ6tgQMDSkAOb24gZeOJYDjKY4JTyL9cNm_BrX6TPtTB8XtiSO-RZb2G_yo9Egek3PuQSClVH-dxWLPDTBg-IblHf_cV0ZlTeJAczMv9h7ag3LH7-rTK/s1600/BirthdayNails.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></div>
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It's also parent-teacher conference week, which means visits to school and checking up on the kids' progress. So far so good but it always makes for a lot of extra bouncing around.<br />
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I love the chance to see what projects have been keeping them busy, though. This one by my youngest made me pause and smile.<br />
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-CgaAzdYhhGqTBgFkSk0kZQR3Ui-q0VyWWNztwn5NaqUy3x8XaOAMWeJmYd_s3E84Km_HCjzUBmW9v2xpBl8JxT1nfUBXuoQ61BEAJjKlWAKs4wmnt3YxrwywYkcsKhNcMHRInBLgLe6g/s1600/NicksTree.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-CgaAzdYhhGqTBgFkSk0kZQR3Ui-q0VyWWNztwn5NaqUy3x8XaOAMWeJmYd_s3E84Km_HCjzUBmW9v2xpBl8JxT1nfUBXuoQ61BEAJjKlWAKs4wmnt3YxrwywYkcsKhNcMHRInBLgLe6g/s1600/NicksTree.jpg" height="400" width="273" /></a> </div>
<br />
<b>My husband also was</b> gone a few days on business, but he brightened us with a photo of a San Diego sunset. And I thought North Dakota sunsets were awesome!<br />
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjo_oIkzjoGDOEbHbaMJB_LGjn1J2Jauuo5xDTvPP7TXr5F90BrEtjGHGOz2xoEXlANrBG_upNu5kZ7J-AqH6DXoq4nhoUmBHYyP_mifbSOK8bZrVLSaMF_k3Epc7BLmG0Al5GqoFav_Hly/s1600/TroysSunset.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjo_oIkzjoGDOEbHbaMJB_LGjn1J2Jauuo5xDTvPP7TXr5F90BrEtjGHGOz2xoEXlANrBG_upNu5kZ7J-AqH6DXoq4nhoUmBHYyP_mifbSOK8bZrVLSaMF_k3Epc7BLmG0Al5GqoFav_Hly/s1600/TroysSunset.jpg" height="300" width="400" /></a> </div>
<br />
So, you see, I have not been hiding under a rock or anything of the sort, but I have been awfully schedule-heavy. I've only shared a few highlights here. The days have been full with more to come.<br />
<br />
I have missed my Peace Garden Writer posts but it's good to engage fully in life, too, and sometimes, that means pulling away from the screen to tend to the other pressing things.<br />
<br />
Thanks for your patience.<br />
<br />
<b>Q4U: What has been marking your living these days? </b><br />
<br />Roxane B. Salonenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01459456545891720716noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-118446595290355036.post-80575489470116831332014-09-17T22:26:00.000-05:002014-09-17T22:32:04.573-05:00Flannery's Bedroom<br />
<b>I have tried very hard</b> through the years to establish an office in our home. With five kids, this is no easy task. For a while, I inhabited a little nook off the laundry room. But the area preceding it became overrun with laundry and I couldn't think.<br />
<br />
Later, I cleaned all that up and tried to organize things and moved out further from the little nook, still in the same long room where the laundry facilities are, at a long table that served as my desk, near a window...but it soon became similarly disorderly around it and I couldn't think.<br />
<br />
I later took over our family room, and for a while that worked. It was my haven. Until a neighbor started some odd behavior and I could no longer open the shades wide and enjoy that space as much as I had. Then the kids broke the TV upstairs so the only one they could watch was in my office, and slowly, I got bumped...again.<br />
<br />
I am still waiting for the tried and true "room of her own" where I can sink in and feel at ease. Every time I think I have it, it eludes me.<br />
<br />
<b>So when I was looking for </b>a new cover photo for my Facebook page recently, this jumped out at me, for reasons I will shortly reveal.<br />
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbhQBq2vcITYWGFy9UbTp6JT_h18MZ95X3YXMhgoBHRkAHLSMsweV_f_pslVxXNrVkKH_Ef_yNYAHwPUL3OyPXcJCG60gZAbl_QEaTVPIQwiWygjypUbJpH4mWfva3ipv7kVF_7hrV7bZV/s1600/FlanneryDeskC.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbhQBq2vcITYWGFy9UbTp6JT_h18MZ95X3YXMhgoBHRkAHLSMsweV_f_pslVxXNrVkKH_Ef_yNYAHwPUL3OyPXcJCG60gZAbl_QEaTVPIQwiWygjypUbJpH4mWfva3ipv7kVF_7hrV7bZV/s1600/FlanneryDeskC.jpg" height="260" width="400" /></a> </div>
<br />
Introducing the bedroom of Flannery O'Connor, taken with my own camera this past summer during my writer journey to Georgia.<br />
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I think my two travel companions would agree. This room held us absolutely spellbound. It didn't just sit there being; it spoke to us.<br />
<br />
Toward the end of her life, this became Flannery's sanctuary. Some of her best work was written here, much of it in bed when it was hard making her way around the house, flitting about freely. <br />
<br />
"I have been at home a week and feel I'm getting somewhere. I have to stay in these two rooms but R. has got me the table with the electric typewriter on it put so I get out of bed into the typewriter, so to speak, and every day I am able to do a little more," she wrote in June, 1964 (Habit of Being).<br />
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As the lupus took over (thus, the crutches), this became the place where Flannery spent so much of her time. Her world had become so very small, but her writing, so very rich.<br />
<br />
<b>"I've had four blood </b>transfusions in the last month," she wrote around that same time. "The trouble is mostly kidneys - they don't refine poisons out of
the proteins & therefore you don't make blood like you should or
you lose it like you shouldn't or something. As far as I'm concerned, as
long as I can get at that typewriter, I have enough..." <br />
<br />
I, too, have become relegated at times to sitting on my bed, propped up with pillows, writing away in the small cell of my room. This occurs even on days when the kids are at school and my "office" is once again available, but, as it turns out, has been left a mess by the leprechauns.<br />
<br />
Resigned, I head to the bedroom and curl up. I say my morning prayers, check in with social media if time, then roll up my shirt sleeves - often pajamas - and get to work. <br />
<br />
When I posted this on Facebook as my new cover photo, I knew very few would know of its significance, other than my fellow Flannery friends. When I mentioned this during a three-way phone conversation this afternoon, we giggled about it - how some might erroneously assume it is my bedroom.<br />
<br />
<b>But then they might wonder</b> about the typewriter. That made us laugh more, because, of course, I haven't used an actual typewriter in years.<br />
<br />
Back in Flannery's day, one of her most cherished gifts was a television set some religious sisters gave her for helping them with their manuscript. Flannery had as much fun watching the ridiculous commercials as anything, and gleefully critiqued each one. Sounds like my kind of girl! <br />
<br />
All this to say, considering how Flannery's bedroom became a cocoon of sorts to her, carrying her from one life to another in a sense, and that I, too, often hole up in my bedroom when writing, it becomes clearer why this photo pulls me right in. I look at it and it's like I am visiting Flannery all over again, and there she is in bed, waving me in for a spell, asking me to stay a while.<br />
<br />
I've seen it with my own eyes, and I delight in it with Flannery, knowing it was her sanctuary, and that no plush accommodations in the world could take the place of that little spot where she could go into the deepest part of herself, and come out with a masterpiece of the imagination.<br />
<br />
<b>Q4U: Where do you find "home" in terms of space for your writing groove?</b>Roxane B. Salonenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01459456545891720716noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-118446595290355036.post-82545115013295812112014-09-03T00:00:00.000-05:002014-09-03T00:00:01.614-05:00Birth Announcement: A Writer Reflects<br />
<b>No, I'm not having</b> a baby. But 46 years ago, a newspaper in Lovell, Wyo., announced the birth of a baby girl, and that baby girl grew up into me.<br />
<br />
Here I am at just a week old, being held by my Aunt Anne. <br />
<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiduABesypfGg21lKLEj1b2YmHsvbKVjAjPD59tboTg6L7BXz15SrrZvvsnZnZCu3FPixL06TF9oaqQD1TPrkCxnJWispbRfzs12XALn-GAhQaSSm6vkWKw5YgC1tZ3dipSNiExKHAwPmRk/s1600/BabyRoxAnn.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiduABesypfGg21lKLEj1b2YmHsvbKVjAjPD59tboTg6L7BXz15SrrZvvsnZnZCu3FPixL06TF9oaqQD1TPrkCxnJWispbRfzs12XALn-GAhQaSSm6vkWKw5YgC1tZ3dipSNiExKHAwPmRk/s1600/BabyRoxAnn.jpg" height="300" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
I'm struck anew by the little announcement my mom took care to paste into a scrapbook all those years ago. It's just a few inches in height and width, but these words are the introduction to a story. It's almost as if they say, "Once upon a time..."<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTuasR8Vo2if4snNe_K7BMhG0Gg0ioVBVIkVTmwJ43BBvdN95IK4BAfndBMdX-zkP4-eT_0KQHTYzPeFAatXRuPrUgIBqlLkr3z93nW2iLNo0R8IjLoWYHISIJ3kFYKeWcAEWNPoD1Fd0g/s1600/RoxBirthAnnouncement.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTuasR8Vo2if4snNe_K7BMhG0Gg0ioVBVIkVTmwJ43BBvdN95IK4BAfndBMdX-zkP4-eT_0KQHTYzPeFAatXRuPrUgIBqlLkr3z93nW2iLNo0R8IjLoWYHISIJ3kFYKeWcAEWNPoD1Fd0g/s1600/RoxBirthAnnouncement.jpg" height="262" width="320" /></a> </div>
<br />
Once upon a time in a place called Lovell, Wyo., a new person entered the earth. She was all wrinkled and pink, as her father used to describe her, and a bit on the fussy side, as her mother remembers.<br />
<br />
Yes, she came in wailing, having strong opinions about things, but perhaps this was even more indicative of a child with a sensitive, perceptive, and emotional nature; a child who felt deeply, and couldn't possibly keep all of those emotions bottled up inside her. Someday, she would find a way to release all those deeply held feelings by stringing them into sentences that, she dearly hoped, would bring life and hope to others.<br />
<br />
<b>The words also tell</b> of a father who worked as a teacher, and reveal times gone by when mothers' and wives' first names were tucked into the "Mr. and Mrs." designation. This "Mrs." was the person who birthed me, yet no signs of her name: Jane. It's just the way it was. But I do think my mother deserves more than that.<br />
<br />
This "Mrs." has poured her life into mine in a way I can only hope to do in part as a mother and someday-grandmother myself. This weekend, for example, she came for a pre-birthday visit, and spent much of her time playing card games with the kids and treating us through meals out and helping a little around the kitchen and letting the pets know they haven't been overlooked.<br />
<br />
And it was this "Mrs." who, all those years back, took the time, despite being drained and frazzled, to cut out that little birth announcement, telling of her second daughter's arrival, and placing it in the first page of "Roxane's Book I," a red scrapbook, the same color her daughter would someday choose as her favorite.<br />
<br />
Just a few words, but words that announced my life, and subtly mention a mother; one who was determined to do what she could to make this little, imperfect family with the crying baby and toddler sister and a world full of unknowns work out somehow.<br />
<br />
The words begin the story, but there is so much more to tell, and I'm grateful for the chance to try in any measure. Because fleeting as we are in the scheme of things, our stories do matter.<br />
<br />
<b>Q4U: What words were born with your first moments of life?</b>Roxane B. Salonenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01459456545891720716noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-118446595290355036.post-39701247805044687412014-08-27T00:00:00.000-05:002014-08-27T00:00:09.470-05:00The Messy Life<br />
<b>When the kids</b> are older, then I'll have time again to organize, I said. Things will be so much tidier, so much more manageable.<br />
<br />
As I look around my house and see the piles, I can't help but think of those yearnings for order that have proven so elusive. What a fool I was, I think now.<br />
<br />
And yet, am I really surprised?<br />
<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaMCpBBf0Dw0ZPOPjl4ZYxsAL6hfessFO5KiuE9ktwNVfTNgv-O6q1e5U262LHyVyRMOVxtMc7kimcnvKzkpZ-tmHdxvy03dmJBoXUDVIWIlyDBTDRK3zygygFsEZK_gC1aAQRTMc_2ssm/s1600/Frosted+Nick+B.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaMCpBBf0Dw0ZPOPjl4ZYxsAL6hfessFO5KiuE9ktwNVfTNgv-O6q1e5U262LHyVyRMOVxtMc7kimcnvKzkpZ-tmHdxvy03dmJBoXUDVIWIlyDBTDRK3zygygFsEZK_gC1aAQRTMc_2ssm/s1600/Frosted+Nick+B.jpg" height="320" width="317" /></a> </div>
<br />
I think there has to be a bit of a welcoming of disorder to open one's heart to a large family, for one. Add in the fact that most of us are high on the creative spectrum and the truth of the matter comes more assuredly into view.<br />
<br />
<b>I'm not making excuses.</b> I care about order. I feel better when things are in place. But I gotta be honest, they're not right now, they haven't been for a while, and I'm not exactly sure anymore when that day is going to arrive, and I'm okay with that.<br />
<br />
As a writer-mama, there's a lot to accomplish, and most days, I do what's in my face and work my way down the list. And that's as far as I get. The deep cleaning and organizing? I'm not there and don't know when I will be. I'll do what I can when I can.<br />
<br />
Even though the kids are no longer in diapers, the layers have not gone away, and here we are. And as I look around, feeling a little mystified, I realize I have to give myself the excuse, because quite frankly I can't do anything more tha<b>n</b> what I'm doing.<br />
<br />
<b>A friend of mine has </b>been saying she's realized she can only focus on one big project at a time. She can either cook fabulous meals, or have a tidy home, but not both at once. Another time, she said that even if she did have the time to be more organized, she's not sure how much she'd want to delve into it.<br />
<br />
I'm like that too. Some people go stir-crazy without order. I go stir-crazy trying to maintain it.<br />
<br />
Another factor has to do with my life as a writer. As someone who is creating order daily in her writing, there's only so much of that kind of intense energy it takes to write well to go around. By the time I've done my interviews or collected all the words or written the stories, there's another around the bend, and kids who need me, too. I pull away to tend to what is most obvious in the home and with the kids and that's as far as I can go most days.<br />
<br />
Somewhere in this, I am at peace. In the messy, I am finding a way to exist and be at rest. Because every day I am creating life-giving things. On top of the writing and family, I am also engaged in a faith that is vibrant and meaningful.<br />
<br />
With these interior things in place, it's not only possible to embrace the mess, but on some level, to be grateful for it. I could not exist in a sterile, barren world for long.<br />
<br />
So I come back to gratitude, for having the kind of world that invites in the messy, feeling assured somehow that the more wonderfully strange and varied ingredients go into the pot, the tastier the stew is going to be when it's done simmering.<br />
<br />
<b>Q4U: How do you like to create order from chaos? When do you leave well enough alone?</b>Roxane B. Salonenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01459456545891720716noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-118446595290355036.post-30598861744748288662014-08-20T00:00:00.000-05:002014-08-20T00:00:02.447-05:00My Father and 'Mockingbird'<br />
<b>It started out as a</b> mother trying to help her daughter's first year of high school begin on a smooth note.<br />
<br />
When I noticed our local, historic Fargo Theater was going to be showing "To Kill a Mockingbird" last week, I put it on my "to do list," knowing my middle daughter had been assigned the book for summer reading by her future English teacher, and that the movie, though old and severely outdated, might help the story come alive even more for her.<br />
<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtjM-8fafpeTbE_afYpXAdZtNjYBC9T3aj_7f5rkIRXDU_DepepVlZEeSdQNn60PTT1NxqtNcMtugzWTvcmq29ZvfbTrHS-4Z05kNBOA_wlEVHYgBGN36H54YCBQ8FeIkfAvAHK3UQU1Fe/s1600/mockingbird.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtjM-8fafpeTbE_afYpXAdZtNjYBC9T3aj_7f5rkIRXDU_DepepVlZEeSdQNn60PTT1NxqtNcMtugzWTvcmq29ZvfbTrHS-4Z05kNBOA_wlEVHYgBGN36H54YCBQ8FeIkfAvAHK3UQU1Fe/s1600/mockingbird.jpg" height="305" width="400" /></a> </div>
<br />
And, well, it wasn't completely altruistic. I like stories too, and am especially fond of classics. I also am intrigued by Harper Lee and her one and only published work.<br />
<br />
I was excited as we grabbed our buttered popcorn and headed to the front of the theater, which was filling in quickly, the movie about to begin. As the black and white film played, I did a quick Facebook update, noting our Thursday night adventure. And my mom responded right away:<br />
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<br />
"Your dad's favorite book! Wow, I would have loved being there."<br />
<br />
<b>How had I forgotten?</b> But I had. In the midst of thinking about my daughter's English class project, it had slipped past me that Dad had chosen this book, among all those he'd read in his study of literature, as his very favorite.<br />
<br />
I was so grateful for the reminder, because suddenly I was watching the film not just through my own eyes but through Dad's. What were the elements of the story he most liked, I wondered? What drew him so close to this story? For the rest of our time at the theater, I felt Dad nearby, and during part of it, tears even began flowing there in the dark as I connected with the spirit of this man who was such a big and beautiful part of my life.<br />
<br />
It's his birthday month, and also the month of his and my mother's wedding anniversary, August 21.<br />
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<br />
So I can't help but have Dad on the brain anyway, and then this story...and seeing it there with my daughter...it just sealed the deal.<br />
<br />
I thought of how I'd grown up on a reservation, and how the color of one's skin seemed so insignificant to my parents. Why would they have settled there otherwise?<br />
<br />
<b>And I thought of </b>story and how much story moved my father, and how much story has always moved me. His respect for story was so strong that it couldn't help but spill into the lives of his two little girls, who listened with awe as he shared bedtime tales about one-eyed monsters and the dinosaurs who used to visit his childhood home in New Rockford, N.D.<br />
<br />
It wasn't until after the movie that I shared with my daughter how the story had been her Grandpa Beauclair's favorite. "I was actually thinking about that," she said. "Atticus reminded me of Grandpa."<br />
<br />
It's not an exact match but there is some resemblance. The black hair, the glasses, to be sure. <br />
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<br />
The intellect. The ability to overlook the things that separate us physically to get at the heart of a person.<br />
<br />
The way he drew his kids near.<br />
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<br />
<b>In my childhood years</b>, I was a little like Scout -- always the little sister, always seeking adventure, always curious, and hopefully standing up for justice, just because it seemed the right thing to do. <br />
<br />
Yes, the story has many parallels with my life, and in the remembering, my sister reminded me about a book we'd given Dad a while back for Christmas. She then sent Mom on a hunt for the book, and as Mom tells it, it didn't take long for her to find it in a prominent place in their home. "I think Dad led me straight to it," she said.<br />
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<br />
So we're reading, watching, remembering how much our father and husband loved story and the characters that bring it to life, and the powerful forces of human nature -- the quest for what's good, right and just despite all of our and the world's imperfections -- that have always and hopefully always will motivate us to create a better existence for all.<br />
<br />
I'm still learning from my Dad and about my Dad, and I'm finding this happening most of all through appreciating all the more the things that moved his heart.<br />
<br />
I can honestly say I haven't lost Dad at all. He's as close as ever through these things, and I love him all the more because of it.<br />
<br />
<b>And last but not least, </b>to my mother<b> </b>on the day before her special day of remembering a long and fruitful marriage: Happy Anniversary!<br />
<br />
<i>Q4U: What are your associations with this story, or others that connect you to a loved one in your life?</i><br />
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<br />Roxane B. Salonenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01459456545891720716noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-118446595290355036.post-84811598786697919562014-08-13T00:00:00.000-05:002014-08-13T00:00:02.291-05:00Avoiding Writing Pride<br />
<b>After my last post here</b> on Peace Garden Writer, during which time I discussed the blessings of writing for a local audience, a reader pointed out privately some thoughts that humbled me.<br />
<br />
Specifically: "As a letter writer, I have a few times been a little embarrassed of the
reaction and thanks that it can draw in the public square...I quickly turn the conversation back to the gracious person giving it to
me. Everyone likes a little attention, and early on I thought it was somewhat
‘cool’ but now try to avoid any attention, as all praise goes to God."<br />
<br />
I didn't take the words as condemnation, because I agree wholeheartedly. But they do offer a great chance to go a little deeper in terms of how much stalk we should take in our writing and any compliments that come as a result.<br />
<br />
I imagine the temptation to be prideful about one's writing is something that every writer has faced at one time or another -- especially those who are aware of the pitfalls of pride. Because of the sheer nature of our work, it's always there, lurking around the corner.<br />
<br />
<b>What we do is public,</b> and when we receive commendations for our writing, it could easily, if we're not aware and ready, go to our heads. We might begin to imagine, in error, that we're so great to produce such beautiful sentence structures, when in fact God gave us this gift for one main purpose: to draw others to Him.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSIOCw1GhrY_GxViD7LPQkpA0zU1upCA3FKJBqKPn9eCdsemYBL28dntYR6-ukhNWcC7h1e3NiC4XjaqidqPC-wKL8b4fZLK-OAZAIx3yobi5eHFea1mjfMAPc7ZVyyXgjfu7m3XAoJC0r/s1600/flower.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSIOCw1GhrY_GxViD7LPQkpA0zU1upCA3FKJBqKPn9eCdsemYBL28dntYR6-ukhNWcC7h1e3NiC4XjaqidqPC-wKL8b4fZLK-OAZAIx3yobi5eHFea1mjfMAPc7ZVyyXgjfu7m3XAoJC0r/s1600/flower.jpg" height="266" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">At Gooseberry Park, Lake Superior, Minnesota<u><br /></u></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
We don't have to be writers of faith to have this mission, but if we are people of faith it is inherent in everything we do. Even fiction writers can create works full of truth, goodness and beauty, and it is these things that inspire us all toward God.<br />
<br />
My heroine Flannery O'Connor wrote in her letters about this; how everything comes back to God and God's purposes. Seeing it this way is a freedom, because we can relieve ourselves of the pressure of being perfect in our writing. We are here to be a vessel. Through our pen, we create sentences that will either draw people to truth, beauty and goodness, or lead them away from it. In that way, we are missionaries and prophets, all. But it is God who works through us, not we who own it all.<br />
<br />
<b>If God wishes to use</b> our writing to draw people to Him, He will. The best we can do is continue to form ourselves to God, and the rest will follow. From there, what we write will be of God, even when it appears to be of human fashioning, because at the heart of it will be a divine light.<br />
<br />
So it's true that all glory goes to God. Anything good that I have to say originated first in the heart of God. When people talk of any of my writing as inspiring or good or truthful, I necessarily must point it back to God. I cannot take the credit. I know that.<br />
<br />
Thinking of it this way does not dehumanize me, or make me feel unworthy, or present a blow to my self-esteem. It places things in the right perspective, propels me onward with confidence (knowing I do not go it alone) and allows me to truly shine light where it is most deserving.<br />
<br />
If I can be an instrument for the divine, there is nothing I can imagine that would bring me, and God, greater honor. It is a joy to serve in this way.<br />
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<b>Q4U: Have you ever been tempted to believe it's all about you? What helped you see otherwise?</b><br />
<br />Roxane B. Salonenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01459456545891720716noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-118446595290355036.post-59751636181732824942014-07-30T00:00:00.000-05:002014-07-30T00:32:47.645-05:00The Blessing of Writing Local<br>
<b>The successful thing</b> is to go big and wide, right? To become a writer known to many, from east to west, north and south. Now that's the end-all.<br>
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I might have thought that way once, but then things changed. Doors I thought were opening seemed to close, and I realized I would need a Plan B.<br>
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Though I couldn't predict the future, one thing did seem certain: that one of my greatest callings in life was that of writing; that I'd been given certain gifts and sensibilities, even a certain temperament, that lent itself to a lifelong dance with the written word.<br>
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Now, I didn't say that I'm a great writer, but rather that it is one of my greatest callings. Great because it falls in the top three of those things I'm supposed to do in this life before leaving it -- something that will have made a difference when I'm no more than dust once again.<br>
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Plan B turned out to be focusing on writing for more local audiences. It was a fallback position, but nonetheless, it provided a new challenge, and I dove in eagerly. <br>
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<b>Writing local has </b>helped me find a grounding point, to be rightly intentional about another primary calling of mine -- that of motherhood. It's kept me closer to home and tethered more certainly to the place and people around me.<br>
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And it has been a blessing, more so than I ever could have imagined when I first set out with it seeming like Plan B.<br>
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Take for example Sunday morning. I'd just finished my monthly-or-so stint as a cantor at our church. And as I gathered my folder and prepared to leave the sanctuary, I realized someone was near me, and seemed to be coming nearer.<br>
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"Say, you...are you the one who writes? In the newspaper?" he asked. This wasn't going to be a parishioner telling me thanks for the music. No, it was about something else entirely.<br>
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"I just wanted to tell you that I love your work," he said. "I hadn't made the connection until just now but as I was watching you sing I realized, that's her. That's the one who writes the column. I just wanted to say, keep up the great work!" <br>
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Granted, I shouldn't need accolades such as this. The work in itself should be enough of a blessing -- and it is. But there's nothing more satisfying to a writer than to know she's made a connection with her readers.<br>
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<b>Because quite frankly, </b>I can't keep all my readers in mind as I'm in my office, or some corner of my house or a coffee shop, writing away. I try to focus on one or two people and write to them. Sometimes I write to and for myself and just hope it will reach others too.<br>
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So to realize those efforts have touched someone -- it's a pretty crazy, cool feeling. If it's happened to you, you know what I'm talking about.<br>
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I've had similar experiences before -- at the park, the grocery store, always when I least expect it, and often when I'm not prepared. It can be happily jarring because when I'm not in my writing hole I am in a different mode. And when these two world collides: wow!<br>
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I know that with the world as it is now I might have still experienced this, even if I wrote exclusively for a national or international audience, through digital means. But I don't think there's anything as thrilling as experiencing it in person, right in the little world of my city.<br>
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In the years since I've been writing local, I've slowly come to realize that it isn't the Plan B after all. It's just the Plan A I wasn't expecting, and cherish all the more for having discovered it at all.<br>
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<b>Q4U: Have you had one of these "worlds colliding" moments as a writer? What was it like?</b><br>
<br>Roxane B. Salonenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01459456545891720716noreply@blogger.com1