a man of value

"Try not to become a man of success, but rather try to become a man of value." ~Albert Einstein

One of the definitions of success is, "the gaining of fame or prosperity." Value has a lot of definitions, but there are 2 that stand out to me:
1~ "utility or merit"
2~ "a principle, standard, or quality considered worthwhile or desirable"

The world, it seems, holds success high above value. Too often people--and probably men especially--are judged on how famous they are or how much money they have managed to accumulate. By those standards, Pop wouldn't rate very highly. His name isn't known around the world; there aren't thousands of people who would recognize his picture. His bank account has never been one of those at risk o not being covered by the FDIC--the paycheck flows back out to pay the bills pretty quickly. By the world's standards, he probably wouldn't be considered a success.

But a man of value? That's a very different story.

The first definition of "value" was "utility." That, in turn, is defined as being "designed for use." And if that definition can be applied to anyone, it's Pop. He's had quite a few purposes in my lifetime, and he was designed for each and every one of them.

Pop and Sarh--father and daughter,
coach and athlete

 As a coach, he had the ability to push people to do their best. He was hard on the girls who played basketball for him, but judging by the former players who have asked him to perform a wedding or who have brought their kids to meet him, his players thought the world of him and wanted to play for him.

As a pastor, he can step on toes when needed and offer a pat on the back when deserved, even if nobody else notices. He preaches on everything from "Flying in the Chicken Coop" to "Granny's Chocolate Pie," making even obscure biblical truths easy to understand. He lives his faith and isn't too proud to hold up his own weaknesses as examples. He can carry on a deep conversation about God with either a 4 year old or a scholar, knowing he has something to teach to and to learn from each one. He doesn't avoid the hard questions by throwing out something like, "God works in mysterious ways."

picture by Sarah :0)

As a farmer, he wakes before the sun. His hands and arms are strong enough to drive fence posts and string barbed wire, yet gentle enough to scoop up a baby chick out of the mess of a leak in the chicken house. When something goes wrong, he can figure out a way to make it work just long enough, even when he only seems to have MacGyver-type supplies. He can shrug off banged up hands, even when they're bleeding, and say it was nothing. He worlds long hours all year long, in the dog-days of summer and the dead of winter, and most of the time those hours don't start until he finishes his school bus route. He hauls hay and bottle feeds orphaned calves and picks up dead chickens without complaint.

As a teacher, he shows kids every day that they are capable of so much more than they thought. He teaches math, a subject most say they either don't like or can't understand. He's given some students their first A in math and others their only B of their high school career because he believes in pushing all of them. Though he doesn't coach anymore, a lot of his kids still call him "Coach Goins." He holds his students to a higher standard, and they rise to the challenge because they know he believes in them. His methods are a bit unconventional, but they work amazingly. He's talked a time or two about not teaching anymore, but there's always some student who needs him, some kid he wants to see make it through, and he stays.

He has other roles, other uses he is designed for like Popeye (named by his granddaughter), husband, son, and brother. If you ask me, though, above all else he was designed to be Pop. In the midst of all the rest of his responsibilities, he took the time to support all three of us kids. He taught (and teaches) us the importance of God, family, and hard work. He supports us and pushes us, telling us we are made for great things and that God has big plans for us. He was quick to correct us when we needed it, but he has always understood that sometimes we learn best from mistakes.

I've been told I think like Pop, that we operate on the same wavelength. There must be some truth to that since I'm one of the only ones who can work cows with him, but otherwise I can only hope it's true. What I know, though, is that I'm proud to be called his daughter.

Love you, Popa!

  "Righteousness guards the man of integrity..." Proverbs 13:6a

keep on...

I haven't written here in a while, and for that I have to say sorry. I've gotten wrapped up in other things the past couple of weeks, namely the release of a book that has been a long time in coming and which now sits on my shelf--an actual book, in print, with my name on the cover.

I am beyond excited to see it, though to be honest it still doesn't really seem true even when I look up at the bookshelf across the room from my chair in the living room. It fits with the other paperbacks there, but at the same time it doesn't.

Because inside is me.

It's fiction, a fantasy, but it is me just as much as if I had been telling my life story in its pages. Other people may not see it, but every word has a little piece of me hidden inside. Every line is a glimpse into my soul. I'm on every page, my strengths, weaknesses, flaws, and beliefs there for everybody to see.

There's a quote from E.L. Doctorow that says, "Writers are not just people who sit down and write. They hazard themselves. Every time you compose a book your composition of yourself is at stake." Though I don't have much experience with it yet, so far I completely agree.

I'm excited to see my book in print, but I'm also more terrified and nervous than I would have thought possible. 

~What if people don't like what they read?
~What if nobody wants it?
~What if I don't finish anything else?
~Maybe I shouldn't have released it--will other people see how immature the writing was in the beginning, despite the changes I made?
~Are the people who know me going to think differently of me now?
~Am I just plain crazy for writing a fantasy, a story with magic and sword fights and a Healer and and escaped prisoner and a crazy old hermit and...?

The list goes on, but I'm definitely not going to bore you with all the questions that roll through my head on a daily basis now and which regularly keep me up at night, my brain refusing to shut off.

I worry about what people will think of my writing because I worry what they will think of me because of it.

The thing is, I didn't start writing The Prophecy so that people would think of me a certain way. When I first started writing it, I never even imagined putting it out there for people to read.

I wrote it because I couldn't not write it, because God has wired me in such a way that writing is as much a part of who I am as my eye color, shoe size, or name. I wrote it because God gave me a passion for writing, and even if I'm not 100% sure of His purpose for my writing (or even 10% sure, for that matter), I am sure that if He gave me a passion and a love for writing, He expects me to use it.

One of my favorite authors, Dean Koontz, wrote in The Taking, "Pages crystallizing into chapters, chapters accreting into books: The story-painting, spell-casting, truth-telling work of a novelist had seemed to be a lifelong purpose. Her mother had taught her that talent is a gift from God, that a writer has a sacred obligation to her Creator to explore the gift with energy and diligence, to polish it, to use it to brighten the landscape of her readers' hearts."

So, I'll work on silencing the questions so I can start listening to the One Voice that matters.
I'll strive to understand how this crazy dream fits into His ultimate plan for my life.
I'll explore the gift I've been given in hopes of helping just one person step out of the harsh reality he finds himself in, even if it's just for a moment.

And I'll keep writing, because I don't know how not to.

..the other side of my writing

As those of you who know me (or have read very many of my posts here know) realize, the things I post on this blog aren't always the easiest things for me to share with other people. I'm a pretty private person, but this blog was started out of obedience--and sometimes (who am I fooling? most of the time would be better there) obedience is hard.

As you may also know, at my core I'm a writer. I study physics and raise 2 kids and drive my husband batty and have no idea what I'm going to end up doing in life, but one other thing that makes me who I am is the fact that I have to constantly be pouring something out on paper. And yes, most of my writing is done with paper and ink. There's still just something so impersonal about a computer that makes me resort to the old fashioned way of writing.

All that has been said as an introduction to this: there is another side to my writing.

The stuff I post here is deeply personal and very much non-fiction. That is a wonderful thing and has its place in my heart, but I'm also a storyteller.

Yes, I know I tell stories here. I love writing them, love reliving the good memories and having an outlet for the bad. The storyteller in me, though, hsa another love.

Fiction.

There, I said it--and somehow I feel like I'm at a support group or something: "Hi, my name is Mandy and I'm a paperback writer..." (Am I the only one who just heard the Beetles start singing?)

I love seeing a story come to life on the page. I like setting back and watching the characters develop and am thrilled when I come to a point where I am surprised by what happens nest in a story I'm working on. I also like seeing the battle between good a evil unfold, even if it is in a magical world of fantasy.

So, with that said I would like to show you something a little bit different:

 I've been working on this book for a lot longer than I want to admit, but it is finally done and ready and out there in the world. If you click on the picture above you'll go to a site where you can order a real physical copy of the book. I'll say up front that it is listed at a higher price than I would have liked, but when each book is printed when it is ordered the minimum price is pretty much stuck.

If you are an ebook person, the Kindle version is available here. Amazon Prime members with a Kindle can even borrow it for free, which I think is wonderful! What's better than reading a free book?

If you do feel like picking up a copy...and then reading it...and then think you might like to help me out a bit, I would love to read your reviews on Amazon.

Thanks for bearing with me through what is a bit of a different post for me :0)

remembering...

Memorial Day is Monday, and I've spent all week trying to figure out what to write. I've started and deleted this post multiple times now, a couple of times trying to just write and let the words come on their own.

That usually works for me--writing has always been cathartic and I've never really had to force it (with the exception of one chapter I skipped over in my story, but that's a bit different). I start writing and the words seem to flow on their own, usually leading me somewhere I didn't even realize I was trying to reach. For some reason, though, I just haven't been able to do that this time.

I guess I'm struggling with just how to put my feelings about Memorial Day into words. That never used to be a problem. Like most people, this holiday used to simply be the start of summer. It was the first long weekend that everyone could spend at the lake, despite the still somewhat chilly water. That was in Arkansas, mind you--the water up here would be a lot more than "somewhat chilly" right now.

Memorial Day became different in 2005, the first time I had a soldier to remember. At the same time, though, even then it didn't become what this holiday is supposed to be--Decoration Day, the day to place flags and flowers on the graves of fallen soldiers.

See, I've only been to Michael's grave twice since the funeral--that's been almost 9 years ago now.

I could go into the reason for that, but that leads to a dark and still extremely painful place. Suffice it to say, it's too hard for me to visit a headstone that says nothing of the remarkable man my brother was. Instead it solely gives him the title of husband, and my relationship with my former sister-in-law is definitely something I'm not going into right now!

Guess it's pretty obvious there are still some open wounds in my life, huh? I hold the tears back and swallow the lump in my throat and push them aside, but they're still there...waiting to be dealt with some day. In true Scarlett O"Hara form, though, I just say, "I can't think about that right now. If I do I'll go crazy. I'll think about that tomorrow."

Since I won't be placing flowers on my brother's grave for Memorial Day, I'll do my remembering another way. Tucked into the pages of our family Bible is a sheet of notebook paper. There's no date, and I don't really remember how much time had passed before I wrote it, but the words on that paper give a tiny glimpse of the relationship I had with my big brother--and why I miss him so much. I'm not a poet by any means, but this is something I want to share with you...

You taught me to be strong
        when others saw me as weak.
You told me I could do anything
        if I set my heart on it.
You showed me how to stand
        when those around me crumble.
You encouraged me to follow my dreams
        even though it may be hard.
You pushed me to do my best
        even if it's not acknowledged.
You led me down the narrow road
        even though it was never popular.
You listened to me
        when no one else would.
You comforted me
        when no one else could.
you were my teacher,
               my confidant,
               my example,
               my encourager,
               my leader.
Because of you,
                           I know how to keep going.

~for my brother.
Love,
Mandy Jean

my commitment

As a parent, I know I'm not alone in wanting the best for my children. And as a bit of a control freak, I wish I could plan everything out for them and lay life out before them as a road map with a neatly detailed route.

As my own parents can tell you, though, you can't lay life out nice and neat for your kids. No matter your plans for your  kids, life happens and things have a tendency to veer off track. We can plan all we want to, but really all our planning amounts to very little.

So what can we do for our kids? "Train a child in the way he should go, and when he is old he will not turn from it." (Proverbs 22:6)

I have. like so many other parents out there, huge dreams for my kids. If you ask me, nothing is out of reach for them and no dream is too incredible. I grew up being told I could do anything I put my mind to, no matter how crazy it may seem to others, and I have that same belief for my kids. They are already amazing, even at 6 and almost 4.

No matter what they accomplish, though, none of it will matter if they aren't following the Way.

And no matter what my plans are, my dreams are, for my kids, they can't even begin to compare to the plans God has for them.

So, as hard as it is for me to let go of anything I have plans or (a common theme, I know), I know I have to let go of my plans for my kids. Instead, I have to hand them over to God and admit that He loves them way more than I ever could. I have to admit that they are His--and just under my stewardship for a short while. My job is not to plan the future for them, or even to make sure life goes smoothly for them. My job is simply to teach them to follow the One to whom they belong.

Simple, but not easy.

I have dreams for my kids, but what outweighs those dreams is the desire for my kids to learn to follow God.

"Trust in the LORD with all thine heart, and lean not unto thine own understanding. In all thy ways acknowledge Him and He shall direct thy paths." (Proverbs 3:5&6)

"Show me Your ways, O LORD, teach me Your paths; guide me in Your truth and teach me, for You are God my Savior, and my hope is in You all day long." (Psalm 25:4&5)

So to my kids, I say:
I love you more than you'll ever know, but you aren't truly mine--you belong to God, and He has simply blessed me with the chance to hold your hand for a while. With that, though, He has also charged me with the responsibility of setting you on the right path--His path.

So cling to Him, learn from Him, love Him, and follow Him. "Love the LORD your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind." (Matthew 22:37) Know, without a shadow of a doubt, that you belong to Him.

This may be hard for you to believe, but I'm letting go. I'm handing you back to the One who loaned you to me with this promise: "Now I commit you to God and to the Word of His grace, which can build you up and give you an inheritance among all those who are sanctified." (Acts 20:32)

I love you..."infinity times infinity!"

life verses for my babies

We had a dedication service Sunday at church, and one of the things the parents of the babies being dedicated that Mother's Day morning were asked to do was pick out a verse for their kids. That made me think about the verses I would have picked for my kids.

Honestly, if I had been asked to choose verses for them when they were tiny I don't know what I would have come up with. Babies are amazing miracles, but you don't really know them until they get a little older and start developing all the quirks that make somebody unique.

Now, though, with my babies 6 and almost 4, I'm starting to get a good idea of the little people they are. And now I think I have a better grasp on the verses I would choose for each of them.

First there's Raiden.
My sweet, bossy, artsy, moody, insightful, cuddly, girly, sensitive, loving, growing up too fast little girl.

She loves music and is constantly making up songs. Because of her, the kids go to sleep with their CD player on every night. She loves listening to Faith Hill's Fireflies album. She's a dreamer and she's passionate and she revels in attention. She wants to please and can't stand it when someone is upset with her.

For Raiden I would pick Zephaniah 3:17. "The LORD your God is with you, He is mighty to save. He will take great delight in you, He will quiet you with His love, He will rejoice over you with singing."

Then there's Conan.

My stubborn, loving, determined, energetic, competitive, emotional, funny, shy, protective, full of life little boy who is already comparing his height to sister's.

"Sister" is extremely important to this little guy. He wants to be by her side all the time, counting down the time until she gets home from school and asking to sleep with her every night (a request she surprisingly grants...most of the time). He can't stand to see people upset, and even at the ripe ol' age of almost 4 he steps in to make things better. He's big for his age and only getting bigger, and he takes pride in showing us how strong he is.

For Conan I would choose Proverbs 31:8-9 (and no, this doesn't come from the "Wife of Noble Character" passage, I promise!). "Speak up for those who cannot speak for themselves, for the rights of all who are destitute. Speak up and judge fairly; defend the rights of the poor and needy."

 I can't wait to see the amazing people these two become. I know we are in for a crazy ride with both of them, but I wouldn't trade it for anything. I'm excited for what's to come, and I'm thankful God has blessed us with two such amazing kids to raise for Him.

a snow story

I want to tell you a story...

It seems Nathan and I have a thing for unexpected adventures, and I was reminded of one that I thought you might enjoy.

When Raiden was born, Nathan was still in the Coast Guard and we were living in Astoria, Oregon (if you've never been there, you should visit. I would love to go back some day!). We had gone back to Arkansas so she would be born there, though, so when she was about 2 or 3 weeks old we headed back across country in the Santa Fe--two brand new parents who had no idea what they were doing, one tiny baby girl who didn't know to be scared, and two giant dogs, one of whom was not cut out for travel.

My mom thinks you can never be too prepared, so before we headed out she made sure we had about a million baby blankets in the car with us. She wanted to send a candle because she had seen a show that talked about a family getting stuck in their car in a blizzard and apparently a single candle is enough to keep you warm in that situation. I laughed it off and hugged my parents bye, promising to call each night when we stopped.

We were quite a sight, I imagine:

Here's one of the giants, Thor. He spent the majority of the trip right there next to Raiden's car seat, usually with his chin resting on the side so he could look at her. Drizzt, the other giant, is in the very back of this picture. If you look hard enough you can get a glimpse of hips--he was the nervous traveler. Below is a picture of him with Raiden a few months later, just to give you an idea of the size of this puppy.

When I say nervous, I don't just mean that he was whimpering a little bit or anything like that. No, apparently car travel made him sick to his stomach. Yup, we had a Great Dane with diarrhea riding in the vehicle with us all the way from Arkansas to the Oregon coast.

Just about as fun as it sounds.

Still, even with all the chaos this suggests, we couldn't just take the shortest, most direct route. We're travelers and we wanted to take the back roads, to see the sites! We had driven straight through on our way down because for that trip I was 9 months pregnant and the dogs were in crates in the back of my pickup.

There were amazing things along the way, though our stop in Vegas made me incredibly nervous. I'm not one for big cities with lots of people, and Las Vegas was insanely full of people! I waited in the car in a parking garage while Nathan went into a couple of the casinos to get some playing cards just to show we'd been there, and I called my mom because the parking garage scared me...

We got to see places like this:

And it was pretty incredible. We weren't satisfied with that, though, and when we reached the Sierra Nevada mountains we decided to take a tiny little road that went up over the top.

Right after Christmas. In winter.
On a road clearly marked as a snowmobile route--that just happened to have not gotten closed off that year for some reason.

It was a beautiful road on the way up the mountain. But then we hit the top, and just as we reached the point where we would start back down the other side, we hit the snow.

LOTS of snow.

We were stuck, two new parents, one tiny baby girl, and two giant dogs.

Nobody lived on the road (probably due to the fact that they would have gotten stuck each winter), so there wasn't a house close by. And of course there was no cell phone reception there, so we had no way to call for help. Nathan decided to walk down to find help. I didn't want him going alone, so he said he would take one of the dogs. The Dane was all legs at the time and incredibly clumsy, so I could just see both of them tumbling down the mountain. Besides, if he was going to be walking at night--yes, it was already nearing sunset at the time--I wanted to know he had some sort of protection, so he took the Rottweiler. I was left with the newborn and the dog with the nervous stomach, sitting in a Santa Fe stuck in the snow on top of the mountain.

He was gone for hours, and it was cold and getting colder. I pulled Raiden up into the front with me, but I had to tuck her in and get out with the dog periodically so he could go to the bathroom. I just knew she was going to be too cold, so I piled a bunch of the blankets on top of us. When Raiden started fussing a little while later, I checked on her and the poor baby was sweating!

It was dark by the time Nathan got back to the car. He had waked down the mountain and found a man who came back to help, but they got stuck on their way back to the Santa Fe.

Yeah.

We ended up spending the night on the mountain, but the next morning finally got pulled out. On our way back down we checked the distance from where we had been stuck to where Nathan had walked--13 miles.

As soon as we got back into cell range my phone started beeping, telling me I had missed calls and voicemails. My mom had worried about us all night when she hadn't gotten a call saying we had stopped for the night. When I called her back that next morning, you can be sure she mentioned to me how good it had been for her to make us put all those blankets in the car!