She wore apricot-colored lipstick, her blonde hair pinned up in a high bun, Brigitte Bardot style. The small diamonds in her ears, the size of pinheads, glistened in her lobes like tears.~Deborah Levy (From August Blue)

The image came to be almost instantly. I sat in a circle, participating in a women's Bible study at my church, each of us in silent contemplation, heads bowed. The leader spoke softly, "Do any of you see a picture or an image the Lord may have provided you?" I hesitated to speak out of timidity, "What if this image is dumb or incongruent with what God is saying? What if I'm just making it up in my head?" I sensed the Holy Spirit encouraging me to speak. Afterall, even if my picture was all of those things I feared, it was still a lovely image. So I said, "I see a woman from behind. The image is black and white. She is moving forward confidently, bathed in light moving toward an opening. Her opportunity."

Earlier in the week, I'd attended a conference. I was a greeter for the event. I stood outside the entrance at dusk, the indigo sky above punctuated with glowing silver stars. A woman came out and introduced herself. We quickly established we were both writers and she was also one of the conference speakers. While I was getting ready for the conference, I changed purses. I had the idea to place some of my cards into the purse as well. I almost didn't do it but said to myself, "Oh what the heck. It can't hurt." I didn't really believe I'd have anyone to give a card to. Yet spontaneously, I said to this lovely woman, "Here's my card. You may want to check out my website and books." She took my card in her hand and exclaimed enthusiastically, "You have a business. I've been looking for businesses to pray for."  She then said, "For the next thirty days I'll send an e-mail to let you know how I am praying for you." I hardly had time to thank her as she was off to speak. I never thought of writing books as a business. I viewed my writing as a hobby.

I later replied to one of her emails and told her that I appreciated her response to my card, never thinking of myself as having a business, telling her I found it difficult to "promote myself." She kindly responded that others could be missing out on something good if the writting was not where people could find it.

I could hear my heart beating as I gazed at the dazzling waves.~Deborah Levy (From August Blue)

I find comfort in the color blue. Is that why I love the sky so much? 

The color scheme in my home is blue and white, with splashes of russet and taupe. My dishes are blue and white, so even when I'm eating I derive pleasure from the color pattern. Years ago, I dreamed of a little white dog with blue eyes that someone gave to me. I'll never forget the joy that dream evoked in me. When I awakened, I wondered if perhaps a warm frosted-colored pup would greet me, look at me with its soulful blue eyes. I have yet to find this creature for my life, so I created an imaginary dog for my protagonist, Alex, in my newest manuscript. Alex names the dog Stella. Her dog is blue-eyed, with short, white fur that feels like velvet on one's fingertips. Stella's muzzle is pinkish with dark spots, much like the photo I posted here. I found this image just the other day and exclaimed, "I think this might be Stella." The photo brings me comfort too.

His wounds became your healing.~I Peter 2:24 (From The Message)

My grandmother lived to be 101. At times throughout my childhood and adolescence she lived with my parents and me. My grandmother was smart, a retired school teacher and mother to eleven children. She knew many of the questions when she and I watched Jeopardy together. My grandmother had elegantly precise penmanship. She wrote hundreds of letters that were mailed all over the world to family, missionaries and strangers who visited her church. Always these missives were infused with her faith in Jesus. She loved to read, especially the Bible. Her name was Ella which means Beautiful Light. Maybe what's happened for me over these last few days made me ache to see my grandmother, to tell her of my experience, because so many times she pointed me to the faithfulness of Jesus. 

I received a bad medical report. An abnormal mammogram. The nurse at the oncologist's office called and said, "With your history, you need further testing." I felt anxious and scared. Then I thought, too, "with my history" could mean I'd be healed, because hadn't I been healed of cancer six years ago?"  I began speaking the promises of Jesus over my life, using my authority in Him to claim my healing and resist the enemy--to receive His peace and rest inside the situation. To be comforted by Him, knowing that I was covered in His armor for the battle. I alerted only a few people of my situation. Then five others who did not know what I faced, texted me and told me that God had placed me on their hearts and they were praying for me. The Lord gave me dreams.

And how blessed all those in whom you live, whose lives become roads you travel; 

They wind through lonesome valleys, come upon brooks, discover cool springs and pools brimming with rain!

God-traveled, these roads curve up the mountain, and at the last turn--Zion! God in full view!~Psalm 84: 5-7 (From The Message)

The protagonist, Alexandra, in my manuscript I'm working on, is struggling. Her therapist, Dr. Wallace Greer, gives her an assignment. She is to write down five things that provide delight, or have provided delight in the past. Alex (her preferred name), tells Dr. Greer she's never really used that word, hasn't contemplated it before. He encourages her to participate in the assignment. Give it a try. 

Yesterday I was in the library and ran across a book, The Book of (More) Delights, by Ross Gay. I'd never heard of the book before I wrote about my fictional character and gave her the assignment through Dr. Greer. And the book I saw and checked out at the library is his second set of essays about delight, the first, The Book Of Delights. And surely it is good and healing to concentrate on discovering what delights us in this world that holds such trouble, that can cause our hearts to feel brittle and break apart. 

You like wooden boats and flaky salt and having dahlias at your desk. Sometimes you tell yourself mean things when you run. You feel calmer when you go outside at lunchtime. If you don't sleep well one night, you usually do the next. Having a whole mystery series to read makes you feel safe. You always thought you weren't tough, but you are. You really do believe failure goes on some sort of permanent record. You can get weirdly absorbed in cleaning out a drawer. You try so hard to be good at things you don't actually want to do. You never ask yourself if maybe you should just stop doing them.~Kristi Coulter (From Exit Interview--The Life and Death of My Ambitious Career)

My husband has more than once accused me of being "too nice." Guilty as charged. A lot of the time, I just want people to like me. People pleasing. Yes sir, that's me. I feel guilty if I say no to others. I feel responsible for others' emotions. I want things to work out. I believe it's up to me. I don't practice this upside-down behavior all the time, but frequently enough so that I'm capsized in a world that demands so much attention. I'm working on it. But I'm not trying to be meaner or increase callousness. No, not that. That's even worse. 

I finished a book by Kristi Coulter last week. I opened this post with her quote. She worked at Amazon for twelve years. She was competent, intelligent, creative and productive. And nice. Yet throughout her career, she experienced many of the same feelings that I have. She often ignored what was important to her, denied that her preferences and thoughts and talents really counted. She gave so much attention to others that she suppressed herself. The pain of diluting who she was finally grabbed her attention. She decided to became kinder to herself. But is there really a difference between niceness and kindness?