Alisa Weis's Blog, page 2

Not Just Happenstance

for "Choices" publication When these moments happen, they give you pause. Sometimes you feel chills up and down your spine at the stunning nature of them. Or they make you shake your head because they're that uncanny and so incredibly personalized to your situation. Synchronization, or occurrences that laugh in the face of happenstance, are some of life's most unexpected blessings. While we can't predict their placement or exact timing, these moments that speak loudly to us, serve purpose and...

Eden: A Reflection

Do you want to live out of fear or love? It's become the guiding question of my life, and I'm grateful for it. I know which one wins as I pick up the pen and share a reflection on February 5, 2018, the day we were supposed to meet our third child. Why fear at all, you might ask? Because I have friends and family who have lost much more than a baby whose heart stopped beating at 9 weeks 4 days old, and I don't want to for a minute have them thinking that I am placing our loss in the same categ...

Forgiveness Opens A Door

Traveling seems to elude me now that I’m busy raising two little kids ages five-and-a-half and four. But I have a backlog of trips that left a sweet aftertaste, so much so that I can practically take myself to clear Caribbean seas or to the rainy Scottish highlands for a few minutes. As much as I treasure these trips for the glimpse of “otherworldliness,” the trip that means the most to me only lasted four days. It was no vacation; in fact, the reason we assembled this past February was to at...

The Emblem: Prologue

Prologue:1889 When he emerged from underground after hours of sweat-inducing toil, David Burnett couldn’t deny the protest of his back any longer. But two years over thirty, and his body gave him pain that he didn’t think he’d feel until he clamored out of bed as an old man. He knew the men who worked below ground beside him felt the same: not all tried to hide their cursing; others couldn’t hide deep, throaty coughs that demanded relief against brisk mountain air. He shook his head, having l...

The Art of Letting Go

So write your story as it needs to be written. Write it honestly, and tell it as best you can. I'm not sure that there are any other rules. Not ones that matter." — Neil Gaiman"There's still restraint in your writing." one of my sisters recently told me, "What would happen if you learned to let go?" You mean have my main characters act as I never would? You see, often times my protagonist is thoughtful, analytical, considerate. So in other words: too much like me. I change her hair color, her...

Late Night Reflection

Late night reflection: You don't have to be fully healed to help those around you. Your broken places don't make you an ineffective or broken soul. Not in the least.Sometimes letting down your guard and showing some of your own pain makes it easier for others to start tellling you about theirs. And light is let in through places you thought were given over to discouragement, defeat or despair. His strength is made perfect through human weakness.And still I fall into a trap of thinking that Go...

Prosperity: A Broader Definition

(Originally published for "Choices" magazine, personal growth/development) Now that I’m halfway through my thirties, my working definition of “prosperity” has taken a drastic shift. While I used to think prosperity was the exact definition Webster gave us: “wealth, affluence, milk, and honey,” I’ve come to see it as more than the one-liner we expect. “Prosperity” isn’t limited to the size of one’s bank account; rather it is an individual’s decision to live a purposeful life. Let me explain:Pu...

Prologue (The Emblem)

Prologue: Early 1930No sooner had he set down his chisel and glance at his lunch pail than Tom Rushton realized the side wall of the mine was about to cave in on him. Small rocks began falling, a prelude to the quake of the underground. He’d seen it too many times in his twenty-seven years of mining to believe it would happen any differently now; the dirt was giving way, sending plumes of coal dust up in billows. Rock and earth rattled like castanets in rapid motion. He tried to shout, but gr...

Season to Wait

It's hard to write about the first traces of frustration as someone who knows she's blessed. I don't want to show ingratitude toward a holy, loving God. It's true I'm aware of the love He's shown me. It's also true there are certain areas of my life I've been waiting to come together longer than I'd hoped for or even expected. Just so you know what I mean, let me share a few examples with you:The more time that passes, the less I imagine holding a new baby in my arms, though I've long prayed...

Musings on These First Fine Lines

Our family's short, red haired mini dachshund is not only dear to me, she's an ever present reminder that years have started to roll by faster than I'd imagined. The gray settling in at her chin gives testament to her years. Her reluctance to run lap after lap around the park where my parents live is officially a sign more of her age than a lackluster attitude or a desire to recline near the sun-dashed windows. Almost fourteen years ago she was placed in my arms with a pink bow tied around he...