Michelle DeRusha's Blog, page 2

Move at the Pace of What Is Real

Yesterday, as I gathered my water bottle and purse to make my way to The Salvation Army community center in north Omaha, eight words on the back of my notebook caught my eye.

“Move at the pace of what is real.”

I’d scrawled the sentence at a stoplight when I’d heard it on a podcast a few days before. I hadn’t been sure at the time what it meant exactly, but it somehow seemed important, something to pay attention to. I read the words a second time as I fished out my keys and slipped into my winter coat.

As I turne...

The Small but Important Work of Talking in Rooms

Two years ago my husband Brad and I received an invitation from the Bishop of our Nebraska Lutheran Synod to join an anti-racism committee. Honestly, I couldn’t have imagined a more unappealing idea at the time. Discussing racism with the Bishop and a bunch of church people, all of whom were strangers, sounded like a decidedly uncomfortable endeavor – one I frankly wanted no part of.

Then again, who says no to the Bishop? Not me, evidently. Not Brad either.

At the first meeting we sat with 20 or so ot...

Navigating the New Landscape of You

A few years ago I dramatically pruned the shrubbery in my backyard. For two days I went at it with the loppers, chopping off clumps of foliage, clipping dead twigs, sculpting and reshaping the remaining branches. When I was done, the landscape was transformed.

Noah, our resident Tree Lover, was not pleased – he disdainfully called me Paul Bunyan for weeks afterward – but I loved it. I could see more of the sky and the neighbor’s house across the street. Light streamed into spots that had pre...

Why Your Passion Doesn’t Have to Be Your Job

This morning on the way to school, my son Noah, who is a senior and deep into the college application process, mentioned he might want to attend the University of Nebraska here in Lincoln. “That way,” he said, “even if I live on campus, I can still come home to take care of my plants.”

I bit my tongue to keep from blurting, “That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard!” I mean, really — who selects a college based on its proximity to their houseplants?

Well, the answer is: Noah does. Because pl...

Terra Incognita

A few mornings ago, when he glimpsed me reading my own book on the back patio, my husband yelled out to me from the living room, “That is the height of narcissism!” He was joking, of course (and he was wrong…the height of narcissism is actually taking a selfie of yourself reading your own book). I laughed – albeit a little sheepishly – but the truth is, I need to re-read my own book.

When I wrote True You, I assumed I was writing it from the perspective of a person who had done the hard work...

Time Wants to Show You a Different Country

I walked with my oldest son Noah on the prairie Sunday night as emerald dragonflies swooped over a landscape abloom in a riot of wildflowers. The air sung, a symphony of trilling insects and rasping cottonwood leaves, a bobwhite’s questioning call, a goldfinch’s exuberant twitter. All around us the hills shimmered with sunlit bluestem.

It was astonishingly beautiful. And yet, I was gripped with sorrow.

My mind was on the young man who had taken his life the day before. A boy Noah had grown u...

Why We Need to Stop Whitewashing the Reality of Poverty

“One thing I noticed right away was how happy the people are,” a friend said as we chatted about my trip to Honduras a few days after I had returned. She, too, had traveled to Honduras a few years ago, and she admitted she had been charmed and impressed by the people she’d met there.

I nodded, agreeing with my friend’s observation. It’s true, the people I met in Honduras did seem genuinely happy. I noticed it too. They were quick to laugh and to smile. Many of them clearly enjoyed engaging a...

What I’ve Learned in the Six Months Since I Left Publishing

A friend recently asked me what I’d wished I’d known before I published my first book. She may have been asking what I’d wished I’d known about the industry or the culture of publishing, but my answer went in a different direction. “I wish I’d known how deep my desire for approval and recognition was,” I told her. “I wish I’d known myself well enough to recognize that a career in publishing wouldn’t be the very best fit for me, for who I am.”

I knew I was Type A. I knew I was an overachiever...

How Honduras Captured My Heart

The truth is, I didn’t even want to go.

Last fall a courageous young woman named Haley came to my church to talk about the children’s home she directs in Honduras. Instantly convicted by her story, I turned to Brad in the middle of worship. “I’m going to Honduras,” I whispered, leaning close to his ear. “And I’m taking Rowan with me.”

My church has an ongoing partnership with the church and community of La Ceibita, a rural village of about 250 people in north central Honduras. We send dental...

From Doing to Being

I’m still in a season of transition and directional change over here. I recently decided, after a 10-year stint as a monthly columnist with my local paper, to say farewell. I thought I’d share my final newspaper column with you (I’ll still be blogging and publishing my monthly newsletter though!). 

Ten years ago I was told by an expert that if I hoped to publish a book, I would first need to build a platform. I should have my own radio show or a newspaper column, plus a website and a social m...