Heather Huffman's Blog, page 14

The good in the bad

If I had a lick of sense, then yesterday would have been a bad day.

Reggie, our Jeep and only mode of transportation, has gone to the to the big car lot in the sky. True to form, Reggie went out with lots of drama, which included leaving Adam and two out of three boys stranded by the highway. (Thanks for that, Reggie... really.)

Sick animals, sick kiddos, an ankle that refuses to play nice - yesterday should have been the day that sent me hobbling toward the hills.

Only it wasn't. Instead, it was a day that left me incredibly grateful for the wrong turn that put Adam and the boys on a less-trafficked highway when he lost steering on Reggie. Thankful that Adam was able to safely get the car pulled over. Thankful my parents were nearby and willing to help. Thankful for good news delivered on a bad day. Thankful for new life breathed into an old friendship at just the right time. Thankful for kids who step up when needed, who look out for each other.

So yeah, yesterday could have been a terrible day. For that matter, today gave it a good shot, too. Instead, it left me feeling incredibly loved and hopeful for tomorrow.

Oh, and if you're wondering about the new look on the site, it's a work in progress. There's lots more to come, so stay tuned! A friend shared this with me yesterday. It seemed fitting, so I figured I'd share it with you... :)

Couch-bound

My current view of the world I gotta admit, this is one of those weeks when I have to actively remind myself how good I have it. Otherwise, I'd be tempted to have a bit of a pity party.

To properly understand my temptations, let me give a bit of history. When I was a freshman in high school, I injured myself doing step aerobics. Before you descend into giggles over my lack of grace (as my sisters did), let me explain. It was gym class, and the teacher had stacked mats for us to use in our step aerobics unit. The mats were dusty and I was wearing Keds, and that turned out to be a bad combination. I slipped, twisting my leg something fierce in the process. The entire class heard the pop of my ligaments tearing. We would later find out I'd torn every ligament in my ankle and knee on the left leg. I nearly passed out from the pain, and was helped to the school nurse by the absolute cutest boy in school, which was pretty mortifying. (And yes, I felt that despite the predicament. A teenage girl has the ability to be mortified regardless of circumstance.)

So, for the past 23-ish years, I've undergone multiple bouts of physical therapy and surgery on the offending ankle. It was after my first surgery the doctor informed me the ankle was riddled with arthritis and I should come to grips with the fact that the injury could leave me unable to walk by the time I was in my 40s.

I worked really hard to stay strong after that - to keep the muscles in my legs strong to compensate for the lack of ligaments. Occasionally my ankle would give when I was walking because the ligaments, even after reconstruction, were always loose. When the ankle did give, it would swell, I'd stay off it for a bit, then I'd get back to my PT exercises and move on.

Then last year, I was helping my parents move when some wrought iron bench pieces fell on my shin. This time it was the right leg. Doctors weren't much help figuring out the extent of the injuries, but the leg hasn't been the same since. It's still bruised and misshapen 18 months later. Anywho, the point is that my bad leg became my good leg and I found myself putting the majority of my weight on it.

I'm guessing my left leg wasn't happy about that. Maybe it was feeling ignored. For the past few months, I've been having trouble walking without pain. The long days on my feet required by my life have been growing increasingly difficult. I told myself I could suck it up long enough to get through our winter preparations, that there would be plenty of time to rest my feet once the hay was in, fences were done, firewood was stacked and animal shelters were fortified.

But Sunday night, as I was walking across my parents' lawn, my ankle gave again. This time, it was accompanied by the dreaded pop I'd heard so many years ago. For some reason, I had it in my head I could muscle through the night. I see my sister three times a year. I didn't want my injury to become the focus of the night. So I didn't say anything, and I made it back to the house, where I sat on the couch all night. Of course, a friend who's a nurse took one look at me and said, "What did you do to your ankle?" So much for playing it cool. 

The night ended with my on crutches and restricted to the couch for the foreseeable future. A torn ligament takes 4 - 6 weeks to heal, and no amount of resenting that fact is going to change it. I hate having to ask Adam and the boys for so much help. I hate not being able to contribute to the mountain of chores and projects still waiting to be done. I miss my animals, and I'm coming to grips with the reality that it makes more sense to downsize the animals and workload until spring.

I feel like my family has walked through many trials in the past three years, and - for the most part - we've done so with faith that God would see us through. We've held on to joy (though we might have lost sight of it once or twice). The hard times have taught us what mattered and what didn't. They've molded us into better people.

But I'm struggling to have a good attitude about this latest setback. I'd just found my stride again with the books (no pun intended). There was an end in site to the constant farm projects. I was starting to hope that we could maybe make some forward progress in our lives instead of always treading water to stay afloat.

And now I'm couch-bound. Maybe it's the pain making it hard for me to keep a good attitude. More likely it's the feeling that I've lost what little control I thought I had. I hate feeling helpless. 

But this is the point where I have a choice. I can either wallow in the poor-mes, or I can choose to find joy, to hope, to have faith. God knit my ankle together in my mother's womb. Surely He can fix it now. And if I'm on a couch, maybe that's where He wants me to be. Maybe He's telling me I have something more important than farm chores to be doing.

Whatever the message, whatever the reason, I'm choosing to laugh about my current predicament. It's more fun that way.

Reboot

Reboots seem to be all the rage in Hollywood these days. I'm usually resistant to them but they win me over in the end. I felt bad for Tobey Maguire when they started over with the Spiderman series, but Andrew Garfield and Emma Stone were an irresistible combination. I guess, sometimes, it's not all bad to start over.

After I released Waiting for You, I went into a bit of a hibernation as far as my writing was concerned. I had all kinds of plans in the works that were put on hold. Partly because my life was kinda overwhelming me and I needed to get my feet under me. Partly because I was just in a creative slump.

But now things are kinda-sorta starting to settle down and the voices in my head have been silenced for too long. They're bumping around, demanding I tell their stories once more. Maybe it's time for me to reboot. To that end, look for some changes around the website, a few revamped covers, and maybe even a few more changes to come down the pike.

And I did promise my readers I'd eventually tell Vance's story. I think it's time to make good on that promise.

First, I have a few orders of business to attend to, a few details to iron out before I make official announcements... but stay tuned, because there will be some news in the next week. Vance's story is going to be an event, because he deserves nothing less.

Leave Your Mark: Crawford & Co

Image courtesy of crawfordand.co So, I know the Leave Your Mark series is usually a Friday thing, but with the craziness that is my life these days, who knows what Friday holds. It seemed best to put the post up while it was on my mind. So anywho, my church celebrates its birthday every fall with a "homecoming" celebration. Part of the celebration includes a potluck (we love our potlucks) and a concert. People who used to attend the church but have since moved come back to mark the occasion with us. It's quite a festivity.

This year was the church's 114th birthday. I hadn't heard of the group who was playing, and I have to admit I toyed with the idea of not sticking around for the music because I was tired and busy, but since our numbers were sorta puny, I felt guilty slipping out. So I stayed and - despite my lousy attitude - I found myself completely swept away by their talent. 

If you've been following my blog for long, then you know that if I could be anything besides I writer, I'd be a singer. After seeing Crawford & Co that day, my boys have started trying to convince me that we should take our show on the road. Considering it took us weeks to practice one song to sing for our little-bitty church, I think I'm content to sit in the audience and sing along softly for the moment. But that doesn't mean I'm not at least a little envious of their talent. 

Crawford & Co is a Southern Gospel group that currently consists of three family members - Gary, Peggy and their son Justin - along with a newly-added bass singer, Jerod. The group was founded in 1982, and if I remember correctly, their founder couldn't even read music when he felt called into this ministry. (But maybe I'm just imagining that.) Since then he's written more than 100 songs. The group uses their talents to share the message of salvation through Jesus, and to encourage, to comfort, to bring smiles. I went into the concert that Sunday feeling stressed and busy and overwhelmed by life. While I was there, I laughed, I cried, I clapped (sometimes even on the beat) and I sang. I left feeling joyful - like a weight had been lifted.

A couple of days ago, I went to see them in concert again. This time I drove two hours to do it. My oldest son insisted on going, too. We picked up my aunt, and even sweet-talked my parents into going. Once again, I went into the concert feeling tired and overwhelmed, and I left feeling joyful. I will always treasure the memory of watching my 15-year-old son laugh and sing with his grandpa, or of watching the tears roll down my aunt's cheeks as she listened to the quartet sing "All that Heaven Must Be." (Which, by the way, was the same reaction I had the first time I listened to it.)

The group has been performing a lot lately, so their voices were tired. They weren't feeling quite as "on" as they had the first time I'd seen them. But that didn't temper their talent - or if it did, it was more than compensated for by the obvious joy they took in doing what they were made for.

And that's what the Leave Your Mark series is about: People from all walks of life doing what they were uniquely made to do so the world is a better place. Crawford & Co loves to make people smile, to tell them they aren't alone in a sorrow, to help them find their way when they're lost.

They've found a new fan in me. As long as Crawford & Co can find the voice to sing, I'll cheer them on. I'm eagerly looking forward to the next time I can make the trek to see them, and in the meantime, I'm wearing my new CD out.

If you'd like to check them out for yourselves, here's how to find them online:

Crawfordand.co
@crawford_and_co on Twitter
Crawford & Co on Facebook

Wow. Fifteen.

I wanted kids pretty much for forever. I wasn't crazy about other people's children, but I always wanted a houseful of my own. So when I lost my first baby, I was completely and totally devastated. I grieved for the little one I would never hold in my arms.

I will never forget where I was the moment I knew my pain would pass. I was in my truck, driving down Gravois Road in St. Louis when I felt the words, "It's going to be okay. You're going to have a son." I wasn't exactly living my life for God right then - it was all about me. If ever there was a time I deserved a blessing, that wasn't it. But He saw my tears and chose to wipe them away anyway. 

Later that week, I found out I was, in fact, pregnant again. The thought hadn't even crossed my mind beforehand. And 15 years ago today, I had the son I'd wanted for so long.

He's the most amazing son I could have asked for and I've treasured each and every moment he's been in my life. The man he's becoming brings me such joy, even though it's tinged by the sorrow of knowing I'll blink and he'll be gone - out exploring this great big wide world. I feel honored to be a part of his life, to be the one God chose to raise him.

So happy birthday to Dylan, the first of the three amazing blessings I call my sons.

Farmer for a Week

The weather in the Missouri Ozarks this week is idyllic. Yesterday was my version of heaven on earth as I sat in the shade of my mimosa tree, surrounded by my animals as I read. Thinking about it now brings a happy sigh to my lips. But hiding in the gentle breeze is a nip of warning: Winter's coming.


According to the forecasters, this week will be the kind of week I live for, with evenings in the 50s and highs each day in the 70s. I am going to glory in it all week long. And I'm going to work like a mad woman to get my little homestead ready for winter, as ready as I can be.


So if I'm not on social media much or I don't respond to an email, know that I've turned my attention to farming for the week - and I'm loving every minute of it.

Growing old gracefully

I always assumed I’d grow old gracefully. I’m not sure why, I just figured I’d embrace aging like I did the rest of life - openly and without reserve. And usually, I’d like to think I do. Usually.

I mean, I’m not the mom who hangs out with my teenage child's friends in attempt to recapture my own glory days. I don’t dress like I’m still on the prowl (although it wouldn’t kill me to dress like a girl more often than I do). I get that my role in life has shifted with the passing of time, and in many ways I welcome it.

But every now and then, something makes me look back down the road and wonder how I got so far along the path so fast.

My last birthday was one of those moments. The number didn’t bother me, it was people’s reactions to the number. It seemed like everyone said, “Wow, you don’t look that old.” On the surface, it seems like a compliment. But there was a common thread in every single person’s inflection that changed the sentence and made me start to wonder. It was this resounding emphasis on the word, “that.” As in, “Wow, you don’t look that old.” I can be a little slow, but about the third or fourth person, it struck me: Maybe I am getting old.

And then there was the selfie I took to show the baby chicken that had taken up roost on my shoulder. I couldn’t bring myself to share it because the woman in the picture had an old neck. Maybe I do look that old after all. But it’s okay. It’s what necks do. They age, just like the rest of a body.

But tonight, watching Netflix with my teenage son, something in me wanted to dig my heels into the ground and cry that enough is enough. Maybe it was the combination of the movie, the dose of Christian Slater that came with it (reminding me of fanciful teenage daydreams), and then having a serious conversation about colleges with the aforementioned son.

It hit me that it’s his time to stand before a limitless world, gazing upon opportunities and wondering which one will lead to his story. My own story is already well in motion and dictated by the choices I made - or didn’t make - along the way.

Maybe the trick to growing old gracefully is knowing you lived life for all it’s worth, that whatever your story, you were an active participant. If I have any regrets, it’s that I spent too many years afraid, too many years drifting while life happened to and around me. But at least I woke up before it was over. I took a deep breath and dove into my dreams before they slipped completely out of my grasp. (Although, alas, it seems Christian and I weren’t meant to be…)

I’ve always thought there was a certain irony to my middle name - Ann. It means full of grace. I could cause myself serious harm walking down the street. Graceful is not an adjective that typically describes me. But maybe, just maybe, I’ll get to live up to my name in this.

Leave Your Mark: Good Stories

It's Friday again - another week has gone by in the blink of an eye, which means it's time for me to introduce you to someone who's using their talents to make the world a better place. Today, it's women's fiction author E.J. Hanagan. I've met EJ in person and I have to say, she truly is one of those people who brings sunshine to the world by simply existing. She also uses her new book, Saving Jason, to raise awareness for PTSD. I figured the combination of the two made her a great fit for the Leave Your Mark series. I hope you find her as enchanting as I do. Have an amazing weekend, all! ~Heather Good Stories When I got asked the question, "What do you do to better the world?"  I instantly thought about a million different things that I would love to say. For example, I hold doors open for everyone, I smile at passersby, I teach my daughter that it is nice to share, I donate to charity. But, the truth is, I think that the best thing that we can do to better the world is to be our best selves. 

Think about how happy you are when you are in your glory doing what you love. 

Think back to a time where you have seen someone in this element and how it has made you feel. I know that personally, I really love animals and when I’m around them, I’m just simply content. I feel like if the whole world could do what they love and what they are good at, then that is one step to a happier place. 

I love to create stories and lead a reader to open their mind up to a world of possibilities. I love getting lost in words and characters and plot and I love even more to know that my readers were able to escape and take something away with them. Because I love this and I’ve been given the magnificent opportunity to write, I can pass my good energy on to others. I’m terrible at math and I couldn’t tell you how to get to the corner store from my house, but, I can write and I feel like that is how I can contribute to the world. 

For years I have been disturbingly intrigued by how a person can be thrown into combat and come out and face the life that they knew before. How for years, veterans can hold these treacherous feelings and experiences inside them and never ask for anything in return. It is my hope, that through writing and doing what I love, I will be able to make the world a better place and help bring awareness to veterans with PTSD. 

I don’t just want to tell a good story - I want to be a part of a good story, too.
Connect with E.J. Hanagan online:

Website: www.ejhanagan.com
Twitter: @ejhanagan
Facebook: ejhanaganbooks

Saving Jason is now available on Amazon, Barnes & Noble & more!

Heroes, tornadoes, bunnies, and zip ties

Somehow another week has melted away without me posting any of the things I mean to. So instead of getting the posts one topic at a time, you're gonna get 'em all at once. But the randomness of the title is how my brain usually works, anyway, so really you're just getting a scary glimpse into my husband's world. (He's usually the recipient of the aforementioned randomness.)

Random observation: My youngest son was just filling me in on his dream from last night. In it, he fought valiantly with a dragon, who wound up taking his heart. I responded with, "Oh my," in a dismayed tone. "What?" he asked, peering over at my computer to see what had upset me. "It took your heart," I explained. "But Mom, I was a hero." His tone said that should have been a given. It struck me in that moment how much little boys have a need to be a hero. Given my husband's frustration level when things are going wrong and he can't fix it, I don't think they outgrow that need.

Once-in-a-lifetime experience: Well, I hope it was a one-off, anyway. Yesterday, as my oldest son and I were driving home from the store, we were admiring a rather beautiful, huge cloud that looked like a mountain range hovering just above the ground. It stretched on for at least a mile, running east and west. The closer we got, the more we realized it really was right off the ground. Then we were under it, and everything was eerily black. You could feel the energy building. I debated pulling over in our church parking lot, but decided to forge on home since we were so close.

I pointed straight ahead of us. "Look, there's a tail hook. Those can form tornadoes."

"Where?" Dylan asked.

"Right there." I pointed again. "Oh wait, there's another one to the left of it. Now they're circling each other. Um... I think a tornado is forming."

The two hook-shaped clouds seemed to dance as one followed the other. The air around us was crackling with energy and power; it was like nothing I'd ever felt before. Dylan said he could see dry lightning in the swirling cloud. I was too busy driving and praying to notice. I could see the two clouds become one funnel, sucking up all of the smaller clouds as they did. Then that entire section of cloud began to rotate, or maybe it had been all along and I was only then able to see it. 

By the time I realized what it was, it was too late to turn back to church. There was a wall of forest on either side of me. I really had no choice but to drive on and pray, really hard, that the funnel wouldn't drop down straight on us. It all happened so quickly - it felt like forever, but in reality, it was less than a minute from the time I pointed out the cloud until we were on our road, my son declaring that the coolest thing ever and asking me to turn around  with me responding that I still wasn't positive I wouldn't wet myself, there was no way I was turning that car around.

I have a feeling that when I get to heaven, my guardian angels are going to have a few choice words for me. I keep them on their toes.

Better than Prozac: It's been a little over a month since we invested in our foundation does for our rabbitry. This came after months of research and planning. I'm so thrilled with the rabbit barn we built and with the does we selected. (My oldest told me the barn actually looks intentional. I guess that's a compliment of sorts.) In that month, we've been blessed with two litters of rabbits and we've inherited some Holland Lops that my youngest convinced me to let him keep. (So a second rabbit barn was quickly built to accommodate those.) Whenever I'm stressed and feel like my head is going to explode, I sit in my rabbit barn. It's hard to worry about stuff when you have baby bunnies using you as a jungle gym. 

A tip, from me to you: Zip ties are good for so much more than handcuffs. (A fact my oldest loves to point out while checking out at the store. And he's seen the handcuffs on TV, not from any weirdness happening around our farm...) Anywho, I feel compelled to share the awesomeness of the zip tie with the world. Right now, I have zip ties holding together everything from a wrought iron swing seat that had separated to a rabbit tractor. When we added woven wire fencing to the barb wire that was already up on our property (because goats mock barbed wire fences and alpacas get stuck in them), we used zip ties to affix the fences to the posts. It worked wonders and went up faster than any fence we'd ever done. Seriously, I love zip ties and having a pack or two on hand is a must for our farm. There. My civic duty is done for the day.

And here's some cuteness to end with...

Broken roads

My intent all week long was to pop by with a blog post to update everyone on the latest goings-on at the farm. (We have a house chicken now - that demands an update.) But, per usual, the week slipped by without a peep. (Ha - did you catch that?) In the mean time, I'm thrilled to welcome Jim McNeely to my blog. He's an author, a pastor, a former magician, a musician... if ever there was someone with a unique skill set to make the world a better place, he's the man.

Jim's new book, Grace in Community: Real Life Grace from the Book of 1 John, is now available on Amazon. Enjoy getting to know Jim and how he uses his talents to share the message placed on his heart. ~Heather

My wife and I are musicians, and one of our favorites songs to perform is “God bless the Broken Road” made popular by Rascal Flatts. It has been a broken road, but it led me straight to Jesus. He really does cause all things to work together for good to those who love Him and are called according to His purposes.

I came to Christ before we were married the summer after I graduated from High School, and through the help of a small local house church I dived deeply into a heavy discipline of study in the scriptures. I began my habit at that time of going very very slowly and deeply through a single book of the Bible, carefully observing and asking my own questions and reading everything I could find on the text in question. My book "Grace in Community: Real Life Grace from the Book of 1 John” is truly just an extension of this very long standing habit. I’ve never been as good at those year reading plans; it never soaks in like slow study for me.

I remember when I first met Betty, I was pretty much of the “bachelor until rapture” mindset. We met at a Christian coffee house where i was playing some songs I had written. She wanted to get together, and I said, let’s meet at 6 AM to study Romans together. I was such a romantic! Unbelievably, she showed up and we started plowing through the book of Romans. The next summer we were the only believers in a program at the university which housed troubled youth. I was smitten with her because she has this constant joy that never seems to stop. To this day I am in complete awe of her easy and wonderful relationship with God!

After four years (the delay was all me!) we got married. I remember that year we drove from Denton (DFW area) Texas to the Grand Canyon four times! What a crazy year! I was working as the city puppeteer at the Denton Public Library, and soon Betty was pregnant! I had to get a real job, and after a dismal failure at a sign factory (which felt like prison), I started doing children’s entertainment at daycares and schools, doing children’s songs we wrote, magic tricks, and storytelling. I did that for about 12 years! I was averaging around 30 shows a week, and even more during holidays. Adult crowds are easy to capture after learning to seize and control a roomful of five-year-olds! To this day I know how to project my voice, position myself on a stage, and pace a performance so I don’t lose anyone. I’ve yet to see anyone fall asleep in one of my sermons!

During that time I began working on a database to manage my entertainment business, and I started getting so interested in the database that I changed careers and went into database development. For a time I worked for a database consultancy, and then I went on my own and started my own custom enterprise software development company. We ended up with clients like Washington Mutual and Lockheed Martin and American Airlines doing large projects. I learned a lot about marketing ephemeral things like custom systems that didn’t even exist yet, and I learned to manage teams of people that were very smart and gifted. One of my employees went on to work at Sandia National Laboratory doing some kind of massive parallel computing with nuclear simulations. It was a great time but also a stressful time. Big corporate projects may be exciting to start, but they are, to say the least, often stressful to complete. It is not easy to carry a team of talented and expensive people and keep them constantly and consistently working and profitable without overloading them. Further, there was tremendous stress in my personal life which was probably linked to the number of hours I was working.

So I laid off everyone, shut the doors on the business, and took a job in Bellingham WA with a group of radiologists. I worked in a basement rescuing an old home-brewed database system and linking it with other medical systems, and all of this was a frequent if not daily challenge. The database itself crashed countless times and had to be reinstated flawlessly with people’s precious medical data. I worked there for 7 years until they purchased a nice standardized system and laid off much of the IT support for the older systems. It was during this time that I started my writing ministry at thereforenow.com and began writing The Romance of Grace.

All of this laid the foundation for my entry into ministry. I have been a serious believer for over 30 years, with an obvious call to full time ministry. I resisted the call because I thought that someone had to be a serious believer and work in the secular world, and that someone would be me! Also, I felt that I was too sinful and brash for vocational ministry. I probably am to sinful and brash! However, after 30 years, we’ve started a church in Lynden WA called Bread and Wine Fellowship, and I’ve published two Christian books which now have readers all over the world! I think that if I had not been a children’s entertainer, i would not have such a love for the children in our church and I would not understand how to grab the attention of people when I teach. I also think that if Betty and I had not run a business for all those years, we would not know how to think about running a church logistically. As well, if I had not labored for 7 years in a basement at a job I disliked, I don’t think I would understand the kinds of stress and disappointment that people experience in their careers and lives. 

So it has been a broken road that has led me to this point. Our personal struggles and life challenges have all come together to forge a compassion and love of grace and mercy that have become the cornerstone of our ministry. I think most people are well aware of how far they’ve fallen short of glory, but they have not heard the good news forcefully pressed that there is a strong and unbreakable love which God bestows as a gift by His grace through Jesus that trumps everything. That is what we are excited to offer in our ministry, and it is really the central point of all of my writing. God, in Christ, truly loves us no matter what. He offers us unconditional and unbreakable love, if only we say yes to Him. This is the message of the cross, the message of the gospel, and the core message of the church for the last 2000 years. We are very excited to repeat this to our generation in a fresh way.