Are you ready for some football?

Posted on September 1, 2010 12:00 AM MST by Sara Richardson

Is it that time of year already? The leaves start turning, the days get shorter, the air grows crisp, and big screen television sales skyrocket…

My husband has been counting down the days, hours, minutes, seconds until the first real game of the year. OK, I admit it. I’ve been counting down, too. Ten years ago I didn’t even know when football season started. I didn’t care. It’s not that I minded watching a little football now and then. I just didn’t know the difference between a false start and off sides, or the difference between a linebacker and a lineman.

But I’ve learned. Oh how much I’ve learned. I didn’t have to learn. I could’ve just turned on the auto-pilot head nod when we watched a game or when my husband wanted to talk football. But I didn’t because I’ve discovered a little secret.

Marriage is way more fun when you enjoy the same things. So instead of pouting when I couldn’t pull him away from the television on Sunday afternoons, I started to join him. I even checked out ESPN.com and our local sportscast. Not that I’m an expert now, but I can name many of the players. I know the rules. Sometimes I can even call the penalties before the ref does.

These days I can’t imagine my life without football. Yes, I know it sounds ridiculous, but watching football games together is one of the highlights of our week. We high five. We jump off the couch. We yell so loud when our beloved Broncos score a touchdown that it scares the dog. Yes, it gets a little rowdy, but that’s what you get with three males in the house.  And I figure, if you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em.

GO BRONCOS!

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Blogging Incontinence

Posted on August 24, 2010 12:00 AM MST by Tiffany Kinerson

Okay, okay, I know it. I write too much. It’s been a lifelong problem of mine. Mrs. Brunette, my fourth grade teacher, called it Diarrhea of the Pen. Now, with age and technology, my problem has morphed into something more refined and educated, something like Blogging Incontinence—I just can't seem to control myself.

Much like I receive most advice and direction, this message has come to me steadily from situations and people surrounding me. Funny, isn’t this how wisdom guides all of us in so many areas of life? Slow, maybe, but clear and firm when we step back and look at the evidence.

With my incontinential blogging, a while back it occurred to me that Sara, a trained journalist, often wrote compelling pieces in about half the words I used. Since I’m a bit slow on the uptake, that didn’t exactly forge change in my life. Or at least not at the beginning.

However, over time I began to take note of it again and again. Until I even put my fingers up to the screen in order to “accurately” measure the differences between Sara and me. At that stage of the process I became aware of a problem, but I didn’t necessarily know what to do about it. I just knew to keep my eyes open for further insight. Wisdom’s step one complete.

Do you have any situations in your life similar to this?

After the completion of step one and with my mind open, I happened upon an article about internet writing. The author stated that, to keep a computer-savvy audience interested, an on-line article should be no longer than 600 words. Out of curiosity--and now quite aware of my incontinence--I ran a word count on my most recent work and found ... over 900! An embarrassing movement, for sure. But ... well, I still learn and grow like the rest of you out there, so what can I say?

I guess I can say wisdom led me to step two. Does my situation sound familiar to anything on your side of the screen?

As the third step, I had a very caring friend come up to me with a nice pat on the shoulder. “Can I offer you a little constructive criticism about that blog?” Having already heard the message loudly and clearly enough (thank goodness I’m getting better at this growth thing), I smiled. “I know. I write too much.”

Now the completion of step four is up to me. Will I heed wisdom’s input and make necessary change to my life? I mean I’ve received the knowledge, the how-to, and the encouragement from people and circumstances around me. I’ve received clear yeses and clear nos--absolute guidance. What more will it take? 

Well, at 515 words, I’ve proven I can listen to wisdom ... at least for one day. But maybe the best assessment of my growth will be time. Will you give wisdom a try in your life if I do it, too?

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Saving the Day

Posted on August 18, 2010 12:00 AM MST by Sara Richardson

Every once in a while we come face-to-face with our own helplessness. You know what I mean. We encounter something that we cannot fix. We go through something that we cannot change. We are forced to stop and watch as things fall apart.

That happened to me last week. I was with my family at a children’s amusement park not far from our home. It’s a place we visit all the time during the summer. A park full of miniature houses for the kids to explore, a beautiful playground, and a cute little train with open cars that takes visitors around the perimeter of the park. We had just finished our train ride and were heading toward the playground when the steam engine blew its whistle. Both of my boys love trains, so we stopped near the fenced-in tracks to watch it pass.

As it came toward us, I instantly knew something was wrong. The train was traveling way too fast. Instead of bouncing innocently down the tracks, it barreled past us. I saw the engineer’s panicked face and I knew something terrible was about to happen. I yelled for my husband to grab the kids and take them the other direction, and I ran after the train along with a handful of other bystanders who realized the same thing I did—there was no way that train would be able to make the upcoming curve at that speed.

In those few seconds I understood helplessness. I got sick and shaky all over as I sprinted down the tracks. I would have given anything to be able to do something. Anything. But I could only watch and pray, knowing that all 30 of those people on board—babies and children and moms and dads and grandparents—were in serious danger.

When it hit the curve, the train flew off the tracks and crashed down an embankment, throwing out all of the passengers, scattering them down the hill. I reached the wreckage completely out of breath, my stomach and chest burning, and that sense of helplessness tunneled through me, almost paralyzed me. People were bleeding. Faces and arms and legs torn up and bruised. A mom with a newborn had broken her arm, but she was still cradling her baby. An elderly grandmother had a serious open fracture. A little girl had serious injuries to her head and face.

I did what I could to help out until the paramedics arrived, but it wasn’t much. I could not stop people from hurting. I could not ease anyone’s pain. Even now as I write this I still get shaky seeing those pictures in my mind. It was so disturbing for me to watch something like that happen. So uncomfortable for me to feel helpless.

Normally when I encounter a crisis, I find a way through it. I make a plan. I figure it out. I like to pretend that I’m in control, that I have some say in what happens. There are times, though, when life is taken out of our hands and we are compelled to look somewhere else for strength. For help. For comfort. Helplessness is not hopelessness. It is simply surrendering. If we look hard enough we find hope in the midst of destruction, and we realize it’s not up to us. We can’t save the day. Instead, we offer what little we can, and leave the miracles up to God. (And they will happen, by the way. I have witnessed several.)

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Belief...even when I don't Believe?

Posted on August 10, 2010 12:00 AM MST by Tiffany Kinerson

Last weekend, for the first time since I was in high school, I found my feet stuffed into a couple of water skis. Staring down a 12-foot tug line, I awaited a tow behind my friend’s boat. I took a deep breath. Would I remember how to get up onto those things? Would I fwap face-first into the water? Strain a muscle in the process? Nevertheless, with a handful of friends cheering me on, I crouched into the proper position and braced my arms for the pull. I signaled I was ready.

But then exhaustion from the head cold I’d been battling rolled through my muscles in a tremor of weakness. The pressure behind my head brought forth images of billowing pillows upon which I would rather be sleeping. And my appendages loosened into that image, hailing the sleep-ladened thought as a stroke of brilliance. Did I even care if I got up on water skis? Because, as the boat started to drag me, it suddenly felt like an overwhelming amount of work just to say I could stand on some wood in the middle of a lake.

Big deal.

Pretty much every day, we come upon situations similar to this in life. Sometimes our children are disrespectful, and we should probably correct them. Or maybe our dog pulls like a maniac whenever it’s on a leash, and a dog trainer would probably do some good. Perhaps we’ve been yelled at one too many times by our boss. Or our husband. Or maybe we simply want that super-sized order of french fries—even though the doctor told us ten pounds would make all the difference.

After each situation like this, the reverberating question is much like my mini-debate on the skis: is this really  worth the fight? Will hanging on this one time even make a difference in my life? And, maybe more importantly, do I really care if it does?

The truth is, a lot of the time—or maybe it’s most of the time—I really don’t care. Since I naturally tend toward an attitude of being as opposed to doing, it’s not a problem at all for me to just...well, let it go. Because, hey, maybe someone else will have the energy to pick up after me. Or maybe the next person I come in contact with will be the person who will light my tail fire and get me moving. Fix my life. Or! I know! Maybe that next self-improvement book or child- or dog-training book will be The Answer to all I haven’t done...and maybe don’t really want to get done in the first place. It is, after all, an awful lot of trouble to go through...and for what, really? Good table manners? A Ward and June Cleaver kind of life?

Boring!

In Mark 9, the Bible tells us about a daddy who has a similar scenario that faces him. His son had been plagued by an evil spirit since childhood, and the father had most likely tried every cure he could. As a last resort, the man came to Jesus. “If you can do anything...” he says. And Jesus, surprised by the “if” in the sentence, challenges him with this statement: everything is possible for him who believes.

I must interject here.

Everything? I mean, I know God can theoretically heal cancer patients and patch families back together and all. But...can He really do something if I don’t necessarily believe the thing can be done? Or what if I’m not sure I really want things to be all that different (deep, deep in the recesses of my heart of course, but still...)? How can anything be possible in me if I’m not 100% on-board with it in the first place?

That is a lot like what this father was faced with. Here was this Jesus who said He could do anything—everything even. All the father had to do was believe. But the guy, he’d had so much disappointment. His boy had struggled his whole life. And the father? He’d fallen short in patience, probably, maybe even love. There was so much failure and heartbreak he’d faced, but still, maybe he, like me, struggled with the tendency to just let things ride. After all, that’s how life had been for them all these years. Maybe it wasn’t that bad. So the kid couldn’t speak, so what? And he had seizures, not a huge deal...right? Lots of people deal with that kind of thing all the time. Maybe he was just being ungrateful to ask for more than the privilege of having a son at all.

But this man, Jesus, he had been able to do so much for so many other people. Could he...? Maybe...?

Belief! There it was! Quickly the man cried out, “I do believe; help me overcome my unbelief.” (By the way, I’ll bet if this father hadn’t clinched onto that small spark, he would’ve lost the hope Jesus’ presence had birthed just then.) Sure enough, the boy was healed. And the family’s life, no doubt, was revolutionized. Revolution, I say! And all because a man had the guts to ask Jesus to increase that teeniest part of him that wanted change.

As a Christ follower, you and I can do the same thing in our lives. Did you know this? Do you believe it? Even the tiniest bit—like the father in Mark 9? Whether it’s love or self-discipline, energy or renewed focus, if there is something in your life in need of change, did you know you can ask for it? You can even ask if you're not even all that sure you truly want to change. You know that thing I'm talking about, don't you? It's that little place in you that could... maybe... be improved, but you often wonder if it really matters.  

Today I encourage you to rise up on your own skis. Today seek out the grace God offers to those willing to ask for it. If God has anything to do with whatever it is, not only will the change be worth the effort, but it might be the start of a revolution in your life. 

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To the Writing Cave, Batman!

Posted on July 20, 2010 12:00 AM MST by Sara Richardson

When a new friend finds out that I have two little boys at home, they often ask how I find time to write. The question always makes me laugh. I guess some writers really do have the luxury of sneaking off into their writing cave to be alone. They sit and do a couple of creative exercises to get the juices flowing. They turn on music and clear their mind, then spend a half hour laboring over one sentence.

That’s so not me.

At the stage of life I’m in right now—raising two little boys, doing freelance work on the side, and trying to keep things running smoothly in my house—I have discovered that I cannot compartmentalize my time. I cannot steal away into solitude. Ever. So instead, I have learned how to incorporate my writing into my everyday life. I have been known to:

• Write an entire scene by typing with one hand while I stir dinner on the stove with the other.
• Get out of bed at midnight because I suddenly have a breakthrough that will solve a problem in my WIP (work-in-progress).
• Call my dog by my character’s name.
• Walk around the house with my laptop as I follow the boys from room to room.
• Discuss plot problems with my kids while they stare at me like I’m speaking a different language.
• Come up with a whole new story idea complete with characters, a dramatic question, three complications and a resolution all during a 30-minute jog.

I got tired of waiting for my life to get less busy. Life will never get less busy. In fact, I’m anticipating that it will only get busier. So I started being more deliberate about bringing my passion for writing into my everyday activities. This works well for me because I’m the kind of writer who spends a lot of time working things out in my head before I sit down to write a story. Or even while I’m writing a story. I think through my character’s motivations, the plot arcs, what’s working and what’s not, how I can push the POV (point of view) deeper. All of these things can be done without actually sitting at the computer. (Which is a good thing for someone who is not skilled in the art of sitting still.)

A while ago I made a decision that I would stop striving for balance. A perfectly balanced life does not exist. To be honest, I like having a lot to do. If I wasn’t so busy, I would probably be bored. I don’t mind noise. I can tune it out. I like to be surrounded by the people I love. Right now my desk sits in the middle of the action. My musical soundtrack is the kids playing and laughing. My creative exercises are helping them build towers with blocks or act out silly plays or create stories of their own.

I always answer the time management question by shrugging and explaining that I don’t need a secret writing cave. I can’t separate my writing from who I am, from what my life is like. Besides, I get way more inspiration when I let all aspects of my life merge into one fun, creative, chaotic journey.

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