Lisa J. Crane's Blog, page 5

Thankful Thursday: My Bucket List ... or Lack Thereof

I think everyone knows by now what a Bucket List is. But in case you don't, a Bucket List (and that's the last time I'm honoring it with uppercase letters) is a list of things you want to do before you kick the proverbial bucket. Things you want to do, places you want to go before you die. I have a confession. Shh. Lean in close. Closer. Okay, here goes.

I don't have a bucket list.

Yep. You heard me. No bucket list. No list of amazing places to see, exciting things to do, none of that. Hard to believe, in this day and age, that someone might not have a bucket list. But here's the thing. I cling strongly to Psalm 118:24.

Today is the day the Lord has made;
let us rejoice and be glad in it.

Don't get me wrong. There are a lot of things I'd love to see, places I'd love to go, people I'd love to meet. And I've seen some amazing things, both man-made and created by God. I've seen the Golden Gate Bridge recently. I've seen the Marfa lights. I've seen mile after mile of green fields in the farmland of Pennsylvania, an oddly lovely sight. I've been to Graceland and Underground Atlanta. I've been to the Alamo. I've stood on numerous beaches and marveled at the vast oceans.

As for people, well, I've mentioned before that I have a habit of talking to strangers. You meet some of the most interesting people that way! It's like the old Sesame Street song: These are the people in your neighborhood! (It's a good day when you can work a SS reference into your blog, isn't it?)

When thinking of a bucket list, people think in terms of regret. What will I regret not doing? But the flip side of that coin, as I see it, is what will I regret if I spend my life chasing checks on a list? Let that sink in for a minute. There are people out there who are a little obsessed with their list, and checking things off of it. But what might you be missing in your pursuit of those little check-marks?

I recently used this analogy in a workshop at a women's conference. Imagine you die. You get the opportunity to look back over your life, and you see a long calendar laid out before you, day after day. Some of the days have gifts on them. Beautiful, lovely packages, as pristine as they were when some loving Hand wrapped them. You ask, "God, why are there only gifts on some of the days?" God looks at you and says, "Oh, there were gifts for you every single day. You just didn't open some of them."

My prayer for you is that you don't miss a single one of God's gifts for you. Don't miss a rainbow, a hug from a loved one, the blessing of witnessing someone give their life to Christ, and yes, little things like fireflies. This IS the day the Lord has made ... for ME. I will rejoice and look for the gifts He has set before me this day.

I don't need a list. My bucket is already overflowing.

A Happy Idea

I've been thinking lately. I know, that's a dangerous activity sometimes. But bear with me, I think you'll like this one. I'm going to try an almost-daily blog. I say almost-daily, because I don't like to lock myself into a schedule or anything. Heaven forbid.

You know the daily hashtags on Twitter? Let's see, there's #MCM (Man Crush Monday), #WCW (Woman Crush Wednesday), and #TBT (Throwback Thursday). Wait, are Tuesday and Friday left out in the cold? Hmm. I'll have to research. Oh, wait, no there's #FF, which is Follow Friday, where one randomly mentions in a tweet some of the people you follow. Yeah, it's like one big annoying mutual admiration society, because everyone who gets mentioned favorites and retweets, so your phone gets blown up by ... well, you get it.

Anyway, my idea is to do a blog each day, but my days will be Merry Monday, Terrific Tuesday, Wonderful Wednesday, Thankful Thursday, and Fabulous Friday. I may not have a blog for every day, every week. But I'm going to do my best.

You see, it's pretty simple. If I'm looking for things in my life that make me merry, make me feel terrific, wonderful, thankful, and fabulous, am I not going to be focused on the great things around me? What better way to remind myself how blessed I am? And when I remember how blessed I am, it makes my heart happy. Hopefully, I can bless others into looking for the things and people that make them happy, too.

I welcome all comments and suggestions, too. If you have an idea for a subject for any of these days, feel free to give me a holler, drop me a line, whatever. I love to hear from others about their blessings, too. Really. I want to hear from you. Many of you are friends with me on Facebook. If not, my email is happyheart1993@yahoo.com. I expect to hear from you.

Who Are You Blessing?

This was one of the questions asked by our preacher in his sermon last night. The other two were equally thought-provoking, but this one really resonated with me. I've said for almost two years now that the main reason I write is for the readers who find something positive in my books and stories. Sure, getting that royalty check at the end of each month is lovely. But when a reader tells me that because of one of my books she's going to start more actively seeking God's will for her day-to-day walk ... well, it's a little scary to think of my words having an impact like that on someone's life. And yet, that's exactly why I write.

If you know me on a personal level at all, you know I'm a cheerleader. Oh, not the pretty, short skirt, pom-pom kind. Let's not even go there. No, I'm more the come on, you can do it, you GOT this kind of cheerleader. I think we all need that kind of cheering section from time to time. So I've asked this question before, but I feel it bears asking again.

What talent were you blessed with, and what are you doing with it?

If you look up the origins of the word talent you'll find that in addition to our concept of the word (a trait or inclination toward) there's also the original meaning which was a unit of weight. The talents referred to in Matthew 25 were that kind; units of weight, specifically silver.

Most of us are familiar with that parable, but in case you aren't, in a nutshell, a man gives his servants some money. Two of the men double the money, and when the master returns from a trip, he is pleased with them. The third man, however, buries his talent. Can't you just see him, holding out that money, a big beaming smile on his face, saying, "Look, master, I didn't lose it?" And yet, what happens? He's reprimanded and his single talent is taken away and given to the guy who doubled his five talents. Does the phrase "use it or lose it" sound familiar right about now?

So I'll ask again, because I feel it's that important: What talent has God blessed you with, and how are you using it to bless others?

Maybe your talent is baking, and you use it to encourage and comfort those who've had an illness or loss in their family. Maybe your talent is working with animals, and you volunteer your time with sick or special needs children. Maybe your talent is preaching the word of God, and you preach powerful lessons like the one I heard last night. Maybe your talent is the written word, and you use it to write fiction with a godly message woven throughout.

I can't answer the question for you, but I'm going to go out on a limb and say EVERYONE--every single one of you--was blessed with some talent. You need to figure out what yours is. And then you need to double it for the One who blessed you with it.

If you don't know how, find someone who has a similar talent. Ask for help. I guarantee you, most people will be eager and excited to help you figure out how to use your talent for His glory.

If you don't go to church with me, or you missed last night's lesson on Genesis 47, you can download it here. Twenty-five minutes or so, and it's well worth your time.

Oh, and maybe next week, I'll share my "Hefty bag on the curb" funeral plan with y'all. ;-)

Dissing the Dress

I recently told a friend, "I view life through romance-tinted glasses." (If I get around to it, I'm making a shirt that says the same thing.) I truly do. I love romance. Mind you, my definition of romance may not be the same as yours or anyone else's. I mean, I don't even agree with Merriam-Webster! You can find their definition here. Really? That's the best you've got?

But I digress.

My daughter, Chloe, and I watch a lot of Hallmark movies. We're still making our way through the ones we recorded at Christmas and Valentine's Day. Chloe also watches a lot of shows like Say Yes to the Dress and Four Weddings. I watch them by virtue of being in the same room, usually writing--you guessed it--romance.

We watch these shows, particularly SYTTD, and see these young women who come into the bridal salon with certain expectations. One of the questions they always ask is, "Is there a price you feel comfortable with?" In other words, "Do you have a budget?" Some of these women throw out numbers that just floor me. Granted, I'm sure the show's producers select the girls with outlandish budgets for that very reason. We're going to watch to see what kind of bang she gets for her ten-thousand (or more) bucks. I must admit, at times, I've been severely underwhelmed.

But then we have another genre of so-called reality shows. Bridezillas and My Big Fat American Gypsy Wedding. Yikes, have you seen either of these? Again, I know the producers choose the craziest, wildest, meanest, trashiest--pick a superlative and join me. You know what I'm talking about. These people are horrible. You can watch these shows and practically predict which party is going to file for divorce, in how few years, and on what grounds.

But here's the thing: It's not a dress to which you're saying yes. It's not about the big fat wedding. It's not about the honeymoon you might win by beating your competition (three other brides) for the best wedding. I have a surprise for some young ladies.

You're saying yes to a lifetime, not a day. You may be saying yes to a lifetime of financial struggles. (Remember that "for richer or for poorer" part in the vows?) You may be saying yes to a man who may become ill somewhere down the road. You are, with few exceptions, saying yes to laundry, dishes, diapers, slobber, snot, middle-of-the-night fever spikes, pets, last minute school projects ... okay, I think you get it.

I think we sometimes do young women a disservice by setting the bar so high for weddings--a single day out of a lifetime. We use the phrase fairy tale wedding, but then we wonder why young wives are expecting Prince Charming all the time.

I'm not saying fairy tale weddings are wrong. And y'all KNOW I'm not saying romance is a lie. I'm just saying perspective is a really important thing. I'm just saying let's teach our daughters that it's the days that follow "I do" that make up a marriage.

Oh, and in case you're curious, you can find the average cost of an average wedding here. I didn't come anywhere close to those figures with my wedding. And you know what? Never once have I looked back wistfully, wishing I'd had a fairy tale wedding. Why would I when I've got my Prince Charming?

Innate or Excuse?

Something has been bothering me. It's been rather like that poppy seed or popcorn hull stuck way in the back of your teeth. You work at it and it just keeps staying there, stuck and bugging you. Always in the back of your mind. So here's a little mental floss to help me get it out of my head.

If you're not hiding under a rock, you're aware of a trend on social media. No, not the constant stream of selfies, although that could certainly be addressed, as well. No, I'm talking about the lists of things only XYZ people will understand or things ABC people do.

Don't get me wrong. There are many I can relate to and understand. I absolutely get some of the ones about creative people or introverts. But if you read some of those articles or lists, you start to see something, and it's not very attractive. We seem to be using our personalities as excuses for bad behavior.

Believe it or not, I am something of an introvert. I'd be very happy if could stay in my little writing bubble, communicating via Facebook, text and Twitter. But I can't do that. I'm also creative, so yes, occasionally, my eyes may glaze over when you talk to me because I've drifted into some imaginary place in my own mind. But I know I can't stay, and will pull myself back to you in a second or two. I'll probably even apologize and ask you to repeat something. I also get so distracted by my current WIP (work in progress) that I need to set an alarm so I don't forget to pick my daughter up from school.

But can I use my personality and innate characteristics as an EXCUSE for bad or rude behavior? I shouldn't, but I'm afraid some of us (self included) are doing just that. A few weeks ago, I read one of these lists about Type A people. I know that Type A people are so far removed from me (I'm kind of a Type ZZZZZzzz personality) that I truly don't understand what makes them tick. But I understand rude behavior, and the gentleman who wrote the article seemed to take great pride in being an arrogant, know-it-all jerk. He made it sound as if all Type A people think every person around them is an idiot. He said Type A people interrupt, not to be rude, but to "be right". I'm not making that up. So being right, or assuming you are, makes rudeness okay? I'm telling you, by the time I finished reading the list, I wondered why any normal human being would want to claim being a Type A personality. Ugh.

Do you see what I'm seeing? We talk about labeling people, particularly children--difficult, slow, hyper, etc.--then turn around and use other labels--shy, creative, driven--to excuse bad habits and self-absorbed behavior. Because that's what it boils down to, isn't it? I'm a [fill in the blank] person, so I can get away with this behavior.

Absolutely not. It's because of my proclivity to get lost in my writing that I set an alarm to pick Coco up from school. It's because of my difficulty introducing myself to strangers that I try to make myself do it. I'm certainly not saying I've overcome all of the bad behavior related to my various personality traits, but I'm trying. I don't want to make excuses for bad habits. I want to work on them and change them.

Having said that, I'm now going to set a timer and go write. When the timer goes off, I'm going to shut down my tablet, get up, and do some badly-needed housecleaning. What bad behavior will you work on today?

Is Chivalry Dead?

No. That's the short answer.

Sometimes, I see or hear things--radio, TV, internet, news, whatever--that make me start thinking. Don't worry, that's not always a bad thing. Lately, I've seen several variations on a Facebook post, the gist of which seems to be that chivalry or gentlemanly behavior is a choice. You know, things like, "Being born a man is a matter of chance. Being a gentleman is a matter of choice." Now, I totally agree with that. But there's so much more to it.

If you're over a certain age--and I'm really not even sure what the cut-off is--you've heard a woman say, in a rather condescending tone, "I can take care of myself. I don't need a man. I'm capable of opening doors for myself." You've seen the t-shirt that says, "A woman needs a man like a fish needs a bicycle."

Somewhere along the line, we became an us vs. them society, right down to our very genders. At some point, women were taken from their place of value, that place where we were cherished (I Peter 3:7 and Ephesians 5:28-30). Instead, we became property. We were pawns to be used in power games and political machinations. We were chattel. That was wrong, and the men responsible should be ashamed.

Fast forward a handful of centuries. Women realize they're being short-changed. We fight for our rights. Nothing wrong with that at all. The problem occurred when some women, presuming to speak for all women, decided our rights weren't enough. No, those women wanted to be men.

Here's the thing. I say to those women, I don't want to be a man. Sure, I'm every bit as smart as my husband. In some ways, I'm stronger than he is. But I don't want to be him. I love being the woman, knowing I'm valued and cherished. I heard a wonderful speaker this past weekend, Barbara Mathews, refer to herself as a "kept woman". You know what? So am I. My husband keeps me safe. He keeps me clothed and fed and sheltered (yes, I contribute, but the final responsibility falls to him). My husband protects me. He stands between me and the rest of the world. That's his God-given right and responsibility.

So ladies, the next time you are treated with less than gentlemanly behavior, be aware that his attitude may lie directly at the feet of your sister, your aunt, your mother, your best friend ... or even yourself. And if that man is someone you think is worth your effort, you look him in the eye and say, "You are a man, and I expect you to treat me like a woman." Because no, chivalry is not dead. But it will take real women to resuscitate it.

So I guess the real question isn't, "Is chivalry dead?" The real question is, "Are you woman enough to let your man be a man?" And only you can answer that.

Back to Work

If you've been within 50 miles of me (or anyone I know), you know I was in California last week. I was nervous, I was excited, I tweeted, I posted, I talked--yep, pretty much any way I could put that out there, I did. Well, I'm back. I flew, I spoke, I saw the Golden Gate Bridge, and now I'm back home and ready to finish Delaney's Peace.

I do know how the book ends, I just need to write it in a way that's believable and still fun. Praying that will happen soon.

In the meantime, I also have several ideas rattling around in my head, names that keep popping up, stories that seem to be poking me all the time. I'll have to decide which one I want to tell next. I'm fairly certain it will be Josie and Finn's story, I just have to determine which story is theirs.

Until I do, however, there are plenty of things to keep me busy till my next speaking engagement. Oh, I don't have one lined up, but my friend, Kendra, says she's going to be my agent, and she's going to take care of that. But until that happens...well, we were a little concerned about the weather we might have been flying into here in DFW on Saturday night. When we got off the plane, it was obvious the weather had bypassed the area...or so I thought. You see, once I got home, I realized the tornadoes had focused their efforts right in my house.

So until I'm a nationally acclaimed writer, until my speaking skills (and I use that term loosely) are in frequent demand, I suppose I'd best--you guessed it--get back to work. I hear the bathroom calling my name. And don't even get me started on the living room and the laundry.

On the other hand, perhaps I should get started on the living room and the laundry. Ah, well. Such is the exciting life of a romance author.

Can We Talk?

My mother once made the statement to someone that I came out of the womb talking. That was only a slight exaggeration. I talk a lot.

I talk via text, Facebook, Twitter, email, phone (okay, not much on the phone), and in person. If I'm not talking to an actual live human being (or one of the animals in my house), I'm talking by writing. (That's a form of talking, since I'm telling a story.) I'm even talking to someone via PM on Facebook as I write this blog!

I talk to strangers. ALL the time. It kinda makes my teenage daughter crazy, but I meet so many interesting people that way. I've learned new things, made new friends, you name it. I get emails from readers I've never met, and I love talking to them.

So why am I getting nervous about talking to people later this week?

I'm leaving Thursday morning for California, where I'll be speaking at a women's conference. I'm very excited, because this is my first speaking engagement that has come about as a result of my writing. (I hope it's not the last.)

But I'm also a little nervous. I want to inspire others to ... I hate to use a tired cliché, but I want to inspire people to realize that dreams come true. Whether you dream of writing, painting, singing--just finding a better job, even. I want to remind people that God has amazing blessings for all of us, if we just look for them.

And I want to not get up there and speak and only hear crickets. I'm going to spend the rest of the week studying my notes. And praying. And I might pack some anti-cricket spray in my bag. Just in case.

Do Your Pants Matter?

I heard a story on the radio this morning about pants. Specifically, yoga pants and leggings. This isn't a new story, but middle schools across the country are banning yoga pants and leggings. The reason cited for the ban in this particular story is that the clothing is a distraction to male students. The mother of one young lady wrote a letter to the school's principal stating this is part of a "culture of rape". The story lead to some disagreement between the radio personalities, and I started thinking about the topic.

As most of you know, I have a daughter in junior high school. I drop her off and pick her up each day, and I can't help noticing the abundance of yoga pants, leggings, and skinny jeans (of the painted on variety), many of which are worn with a regular length shirt, which means a lot of hips, thighs and rear-ends on display in tight, stretchy material. And I'm trying to be delicate, but these clothing also have an unfortunate proclivity to display, and draw attention to, things that have been covered since Adam and Eve made clothing from the local flora.

My daughter doesn't wear yoga pants or leggings unless her shirt or sweater covers her behind. This isn't a matter of fashion for her as much as it's a matter of her heart for God. For Chloe, it's a matter of modesty. And this brings me to my point.

When do we stop making excuses for standing up to what is clearly wrong? And before any of you call me narrow-minded or old-fashioned (not that I consider either of those an insult) go spend some time at a local junior high or the mall. Look at some of the girls in those pants. Now watch the reaction of the young (and not so young) men as the girls walk past. Listen to some of the songs on the radio. One of the most offensive (to me) is the one in which the guy sings, "I gotta get me some o' that.", and I don't think he's talking about her heart. Is that what you want for your daughter? Your sister? Your wife? Your self?

So why do we have to say, "Oh, it's distracting to the male students."? Because my daughter isn't wholly responsible for the thoughts of her male friends. I say wholly, because young women who parade around in immodest clothing can be compared to someone who puts a glass of whiskey in front of an alcoholic. Yes, the alcoholic must be held accountable for his actions and choices, but why would you tempt them in that way? Isn't this a "stumbling block" (1 Corinthians 8:9)? And no, I am absolutely NOT > saying a woman is to blame in any way for a sexual assault, so don't even go there.

Why can't we say, "It's immodest and inappropriate for school."? For the record, the middle school in this particular story has already, in less than a month, backed off the ban. They gave in to parental pressure and student protests.

I know this might be a controversial topic, and I know many may not agree with my opinions. You're welcome to share your thoughts an opinions here, even differing ones. Just keep it clean and not personal.

A Matter of Faith

I often joke that I have the cutest boss in the world, meaning my adorable great-nephew. You see for about the past year and a half, I've played nanny to the little guy. I've had the pleasure of participating in toddler arts and crafts, alphabet and number flash cards, educational television, hours and hours of Lego building, sword fighting with twigs in the back yard, Play-Doh snakes too numerous to count, because ... well, sadly, snakes are the extent of my Play-Doh repertoire. Pathetic, I know, but there it is. I've always been a firm believer in knowing my own limitations.

Well, my little munchkin buddy is about to become a big brother. His little sister is due in a matter of weeks, and his mom has been put on maternity leave. As a result, I find myself rather at loose ends. I'm not unemployed, I'm just less employed. Now, as an author, this could be a wonderful thing. More time to write? Yes, please. But as someone who enjoys the occasional meal, and who wants to maintain a working relationship with the utility companies, I could probably use a little more income.

I mentioned on Facebook how demoralizing I find looking for a real job. The last time I did, I'd go on interviews and leave thinking, as Chloe would say, "I got this." I'd go home and wait a day or two, and then would come the phone call or email. The one I'd been waiting for. Um, no. They were always of the 'we've chosen to go another direction' variety. To which I'd reply [in my head], "Well, you've obviously chosen the wrong direction, haven't you?"

A friend offered several suggestions, and she also offered to help me with some networking. I realized I need to figure out what I want to do. WHAT?!?! I have no idea what I want to do when I grow up!

Alison told me to think about my dream job. I realized, writing IS my dream job. And I make a decent income at it. The question is, can my family and I tighten our budget to the point where we can live on my husband's salary and my royalties? Our budget is already tight enough that it squeaks sometimes. Okay, most of the time.

And then I remembered Peter. I love the apostle Peter. I'm a lot like him. I'm impetuous. I often speak before I think. When I do speak, my filters don't always work properly. And sometimes ... my faith wavers. Oh, it never fails completely, but still ...

You see, much like Peter in the 14th chapter of Matthew, I have the faith to climb out of the boat. I did that nearly three years ago when I quit my last real job without another one in sight. Trust me, that takes some faith, even when you're completely miserable in said job. It's a scary thing to step out of the boat and put your foot on that moving sea.

Your mind starts to think. Wonder what's in that water? Hey, how deep do you think it is right here? Can I touch the bottom? Ooh, was that a shark? Or in my case, Can I really earn a living as an author? Am I as good as I think I am? There are plenty of writers out there who are better. Is this really what I'm supposed to be doing? And like Peter, I soon find myself in water up to my knees, and the waves are rising fast.

This blog started out in my head as a kind of funny thing. It evolved into something else, didn't it? I even had to go back and change the title. So ... here I am. The water is at my ankles. I need a shot of faith. Or a hand to hold. Or a rope. Or something. No, I know what I need. What I need is prayer. Mine and yours.

Prayers that I'll continue to seek God's will and wisdom. Prayers that I'll recognize His will. Prayers that I'll follow that will, even if it means being a janitor (janitress?). Prayers to know whether or not I'm actually supposed to be writing. And no, this is absolutely NOT a fishing expedition. It's a question of, "Have I fooled myself into believing this is God's will because it's what I want to do?"

So, yeah. Throw me a rope and say a prayer for me. <3