Much love Beauties! xxx
Much love Beauties! xxx
Mr. Smith and I have different taste in music.
He doesn’t listen to ‘radio’ music. He will sit at his laptop for hours, headphones in place, and dig until he finds what feeds his soul. I believe music is like a therapy session for him, and I’m all for that. Smith knows the true meaning of “Feel the Music.”
It’s been rainy all week in Texas. The timing was spot on to be awarded The Sunshine Blogger Award. ☀️
This award was given by Liz, at My Well-being and Learning Journey. Thank you darling for this gift.
Here are the rules:
Here are the questions asked by Liz.
Here are my questions for the nominees:
What do you love most about writing?
Why do you write, or Blog on WordPress?
When do you struggle with writing a post?
Where do you see your writing this time next year?
And my nominees are:
Thank you Bloggers for sharing your love and light.
I don’t get mad, but this morning, I am seething for another Blogger. She is a newbie, and a bully came out to play on her Blog.
She wrote a Blog referring to the neighborhood she grew up in as the ‘Ghetto.’ Whose neighborhood was it? Hers.
The bully left a long, derogatory comment on her post.
I’ve had one derogatory comment left on my Blog.
It was when I was a member of Patreon, and trying to raise money to publish a book. This guy raked me over the coals for trying to get paid for my work.
Again, whose Patreon account was it? Mine.
His comment didn’t bother me because I’ve learned something. What we say and do can touch a nerve in other souls, and they lash out at us for touching that nerve. His comment was hateful, but eloquently written, so I wondered if he was a writer that didn’t get paid. I didn’t respond, and hit delete.
Don’t respond to bullies. That’s what they want.
My new friend has only been Blogging for a few weeks, and she is writing about her past. We all know how healing that can be, but that one comment crushed her spirit. She deleted all her posts!
What’s amazing is we have to maneuver our way through a post with an F bomb in every sentence, and that’s completely acceptable, but she gets slayed for using ‘Ghetto’. We live in a screwed up world.
My friend, if you are reading this, I want you to know you are loved. You woke up this morning to a new beginning, and I pray you will leap onto the path and write. If someone degrades you again, I have a really big stick with their name on it.
I sat in my bed this morning, and had a talk with God. He has a plan, but I just wanted to share my requests.
I’m in a quiet season of my life. It’s been this way for months, but I’m learning to sit with it. After He healed my Breast Cancer last year, I was ready to be His mighty foot soldier again, but He has other plans.
In a quiet season, you do quiet things.
Come sit with me, and help with this puzzle.
I sat down in front of it this morning, and asked to find this one piece. It would be completely dark green, so you would think it would be easy to see. Scooping up a handful of pieces from the box, I looked in my hand, and there it was. The piece I asked for.
My natural response was, “Thank you God”, because I had gone through these pieces last night and couldn’t find it, but today is a new day. He was ready to reveal it to me today, and knew I needed that small piece of encouragement while sitting in this quiet season. When life is quiet, God is there.
If God can show me one missing piece to a 1,000 piece puzzle, then I can trust Him to show me the missing pieces of my life.
Trust Him I will, because the puzzle laying on this table will come together one piece at a time, very similar to life. My friends tell me, “He’s preparing you for something”, but I don’t know what that is.
If I overly focus on finding a piece, I miss the overall picture. The box the puzzle came in reveals how beautiful it can be!
I’m good with taking my time and enjoying the process of finding every missing piece. It will come together with time, in this quiet season.
I love on people. That’s what I do. It’s scary to some.
I refer to almost everyone who crosses my path as ‘lovely’. If you’re a man, you will be called, ‘darling’. If I see you in person, you’re going to get a hug. In today’s world, this can be misinterpreted as flirting.
This is why it took so long for me to reply to comments. If you comment on my writing, you’re going to receive a bucket of love dumped on you. That’s just who I am, so consider yourself warned.
It’s my way of giving to the world through love.
I have a male Blogger friend with a lovely wife.
He commented on one of my posts, but when I responded, he was very quick to tell me how much he adored his wife. Haha I knew he was married, and respect what they have. Once he saw it’s who I am we became friends, and I adore him to this day.
What this Blogger did for me is immeasurable.
He let me practice responding to his comments.
We became soulmates in this virtual community. All of our comments were not published because they would be misconstrued. We encouraged one another to become our authentic selves. He hasn’t Blogged all summer, so I hope he’s writing a book.
Even though he’s not here, what he taught me is.
To the waiter in the restaurant, I say, “Thank you darling.” To the cashier behind the counter, “Have a glorious day lovely!” I can feel them being lifted up.
And to the soul reading this, ‘Welcome to my world’, but don’t be afraid. You’re supposed to feel loved.
I can tell what you read, by how you write.
I have read all of Melody Beattie’s books, and am now finishing up two books by Marianne Williamson. My writing has evolved over time, but this is where I sit. In a calm, quiet space. Allowing the words to fall to the page.
Maybe you have certain rules for writing.
Much like life itself, there aren’t many rules for me.
I’ve tried making a schedule like I do for work, but no joy there. Writing is a large part of who I am, so it comes from the heart. It’s a feeling I get, like I can feel the words welling up inside me. There is no schedule for that.
I’ve tried writing for other people, and that doesn’t work either. I cannot become something I’m not.
When we first moved to this little house near the city, I thought it would be fun to write for a local paper. Not a big one, just a small town vibe. I called one and gained valuable insight. I spoke with the editor and told him I am a writer and would like to write about the town. I would share my stories with him, and he could place them in the community section of the paper.
He asked, “Are you a journalist, or someone who writes, and calls himself a writer?”
Come to find out, a journalist has to be news savvy. I haven’t watched the news in years and don’t read a paper. I was grateful for our conversation and happy to have spoken with him. He confirmed what I already knew. I’m a writer.
The only thing I need to know that would be newsworthy is, “When is Jesus coming back?” I’m pretty sure we will know.
So tell me, “What kind of writer are you?”