The Ways of Service

How wonderful it is that nobody need wait a single moment before starting to improve the world (Ann Frank.)

I’ve been thinking about this. What kind of life do you lead? Do you think of others? Consciously think of ways to serve? Do you make anyone’s life better by lifting their load, sharing their burdens or lending a listening ear?

I don’t think I do.

I serve my children and my husband—I don’t complain about picking up my husband’s pile of dirty clothes beside the bed, and pretty much everything I do for/with the boys is a type of service.

But I’m not very good at looking outside of my home, at finding what needs may reside in the people around me, and how I might fill those needs.

I tell myself it’s okay. There’s a time and a season and all that and this is my time to be home, to be focused on home.

For the most part I believe that rationale. But there’s that other part—the part of me that thinks it’s just not good enough.

I believe in service. I’ve been the recipient of it many times, and it’s effect on me has been . . . well, a blessing. One day, I hope to the kind of person who serves without thinking. A person for whom service is a way of life.

But for now, I need to be okay with keeping my acts of service small and close to home. Reading and critiquing a chapter for a friend. Baking an extra batch of cookies for the elderly couple across the street. Calling a friend who’s been feeling a little down. Taking someone out for lunch who needs to get out of the house for a while.

For now, small acts like that need to suffice. But, I wonder—is it enough? Does it count? Am I capable of more and really only making excuses for myself?

I console myself with Edmund Burke’s assertion that, “Nobody made a greater mistake than he who did nothing because he could do only a little.”

I see other people who seem to do it all. They raise good families, spend lots of quality time together, and manage to perform significant acts of service that truly elevate and help other people.

Albert Schweitzer said, “I don't know what your destiny will be, but one thing I do know: the only ones among you who will be really happy are those who have sought and found how to serve.”

And Confucius said, “He who wishes to secure the good of others, has already secured his own.”

So I suppose the truth of the matter is, that it’s not about how you might appear to others, but how you are inside your own skin. I’ll be content with where I am now, with the little I am able to do. But I’ll keep service at the front of my mind and be willing and open to serving wherever and however I can—even if it’s to hold a child a little longer after a disappointment, or hold a husband’s hand when he’s feeling low.

If I can stop one heart from breaking,
I shall not live in vain.
If I can ease one life the aching,
Or cool one pain,
Or help one fainting robin
Unto his nest again,
I shall not live in vain.
~ Emily Dickinson

Book Review ~ An Angel on Main Street

An Angel on Main Street is a treasure.

Oftentimes, I find these small Christmas books that are prevalent this time of year a bit sappy and contrived. I admit, I expected little else from Kathi Oram Peterson’s contribution.

Imagine my surprise, then, to find in An Angel on Main Street, an engaging, heart-tugging, story of a boy’s journey from sadness and loneliness to peace and faith.



Micah is a troubled boy and I can’t help thinking that Kathi has had personal experience with the kind of fear Micah feels, because she paints the picture so beautifully and with tender simplicity. I liked Micah, even when I was frustrated with his choices. I got where he was coming from. And when Micah reaches his lowest low—well, you’ve just gotta read it to see for yourself.

Kathi is hosting a contest through December 15th. “To enter, write about an experience you’ve had with someone who became an angel in your life. This contest celebrates the selfless, kind acts performed daily, many times unnoticed. If you are like me, many people have helped you through times of trouble. Let’s face it, small acts of kindness shown to us by others needs to be remembered and celebrated especially during the holidays. Christmas brings out the best in people and I wanted to give others the opportunity to thank those who have touched their lives in a profound way. Hopefully this contest will remind us of the angels in our lives” (Kathi Oram Peterson.)

You can enter by emailing Kathi here. The winner will be announced on Kathi’s blog, and both the winner and their “Angel” will be awarded a gift certificate to either Seagull Book or Deseret Book.

In the meantime, An Angel on Main Street will give a lift to your holidays and those on your gift list. Get your own copy--and a few for your friends--by clicking here.

No More NaNo

I hate to say it, but I have to give up NaNo this year. You might have already guessed, since I removed my counter and badge from the sidebar.

Before I signed my contract, Tristi, my editor, sent me a gigantic list of revisions I need to make on The Devil’s Daughter. I have to have those completed within thirty days, according to my contract, and they’re hefty enough that I don’t want to jeopardize not completing them in time by working on Children of the Gods, my NaNo project.

But I’m not sorry for these changes, not in the least.

I love my story, and I think I’ve done a good job with it. Obviously, others must think so too, or they wouldn’t have agreed to publish it. However, deep down I feared the book wasn’t good enough. Somehow it seemed incomplete. But I couldn’t quite figure out what, exactly, was missing.

When I read Tristi’s list of changes, my body tingled and my excitement grew.

That’s what my story has been missing.

I feel certain that if I’m able to do a good job of filling in the holes that Tristi identified for me, this will be a story I’d like to read. A book I’d be beyond proud to call my own.

These next thirty days are mine to make my book what it needs to become to fill my readers’ hearts and minds—to move them to their very souls. It’s that kind of book but it’s not quite there yet.

Hopefully, by the time the uber-awesome Tristi is done with it, it’ll be there. It will have arrived.

The Tickle Monster

My son Charlie begs me to read to him at nighttime. But the other night I figured something out—Charlie was always way excited when the reading ended, no matter how much he enjoyed the story.

The reason?

Tickle Time!

Xan hates to be tickled. Probably because he’s just so ticklish that it makes him feel sick.

Charlie, though. He loves to laugh. Anything to laugh.

The other night he said, “Mom, you know what I would miss the most about you if you died?”

This, in the middle of a super-fun tickle fight.

So of course, I wanted to know what, exactly, he’d miss most about me.

“Your laugh,” he said.

Truly, that felt like the biggest compliment I’ve had in a long time. What greater gift can we give to our children than to share our laughter with them? Because laughter is love. It’s happiness. It’s free, uncompromising, nonjudgmental. In laughter, we are united, we are equal.

So I vow to laugh more often.

At the T.V. During family game night. At myself.

During tickle fights.

And I don’t plan on dying any time soon, so Charlie has plenty of time not to miss me.

It's Officially Official

The Devil's Daughter
will be released July 15, 2010
by Valor Publishing Group

Attention: Getting What You Want

My very cool brother, Rick, sent me a book called Rapt: Attention and the Focused Life by Winifred Gallagher. Rapt is about attention—rapt attention. It’s very scholarly and my brain is hurting from reading it. But I’ve managed to glean a few interesting bits of information.

Like brains actually do change depending on what you pay attention to.

For instance, if you spend a lot of time focusing on unconditional love, like Tibetan monks do, your waking mind will be filled with thoughts and feelings of love. Those parts of the monks’ brains that used to control pride and selfishness, anger and distrust, have essentially been erased; while the parts that control love and service have blossomed.

What you give brain currency to will pay you dividends.

Meditating does not always mean sitting cross-legged, while you chant “ohm.” Nowadays, the popular practice of mindfulness*—the art of being wholly in the moment, of granting your full attention—has generally replaced meditation, but they essentially mean the same thing.

I’ve found this highly enlightening. So all those motivational speakers (I’m thinking Mary Kay and virtually every weight loss program I’ve tried) were on to something when they said to take pictures of what you want to look like, or of the vacations you want to take, the cars you want to drive, or home you want own. They taught me to repeat positive affirmations often, asserting the goals I wanted to achieve.

I thought they were all a bit whacked, but now I’m rethinking that position. Perhaps there is something to that kind of regular and repeated attention. Certainly Ms. Gallagher suggests that to be the case.

And really, what harm can it do, right? I mean, no one has to be witness to my crazy self-affirmations. No one (but maybe my husband and children) needs to see the pictures I might have taped to my bathroom mirror inspiring to physical fitness or bestseller greatness.

But really, the data Ms. Gallagher uses to support her claims is beyond my meager intelligence to gainsay. I choose to believe her. So that means, I’m going to practice paying rapt attention to those things I most hold dear and expect my brain—and behavior—to follow along accordingly.

*For mindfulness techniques visit this link.

For Sale: One Guilty Conscience

Well used, but still in excellent condition.

Reliable and constant source of guilt in all situations.

Especially when an overdone sense of guilt will help you beat yourself up, needlessly, for hours.

Growing up and getting on with my life ~ unnecessary guilt no longer needed.

Going cheap ~ only your sense of self and personal dignity, OBO.

~~~~~

You always hear about Catholics and their overactive sense of guilt, but did you know Canadians are famous for it too? Just watch late night talk shows and you'll see plenty of comedians laughing about Canadians and their perpetual "sorry's."

Well, I'm not Catholic, but I am Canadian, and believe me, my guilty conscience is alive and well.

Take the other night at my boys' karate tournament. There was a bit of a drama; we got all the way to Saratoga Springs for the demo team competition only to discover once there that Xan had forgotten his karate shoes. He might not be allowed to compete, they said, because he was the only one not dressed in full uniform, and he was expected to break boards with his feet, so he needed shoes. Long story short, with the help of a wonderful family member and everything going just as it should, I was able to get Xan's shoes and get back to the school with five minutes to spare.

Still, I needed to hurry down to the gym floor and get Xan into his shoes right away because the competition was about to start and we didn't know yet what order the teams were going on. I came in the doors and into a hallway that I needed to pass through to get to the gym. On the right side of the hallway was a small demo team posing for pictures. On the left side, stood a handful of parents.

The parents were holding up their cameras and such, but one man in front was having trouble figuring out his camera. He was asking questions on what to do. I waited for about 30 seconds and still no picture was taken, so I finally dashed through.

The man who was struggling with his camera said, "Ugh. Now that was great! Thank you," in a really ugly tone of voice.

That silly little encounter haunted me all night. I felt like I had every right to run through--the competition was about to start and my son needed his shoes. They were blocking the hallway, the only way through. I could have, and probably should have, said "excuse me," before passing through. But, I did wait for half a minute or so, and I did need to hurry.

But all that night, and even lingering today, I feel all yucky because I made someone mad.

Crazy, right?

That's why I need to get rid of that guilt. Dr. Laura would say "Just get over it." But man, that's hard to do. I need someone to actually come and take it off my hands.

Oh wait. There is someone who already paid for it. In fact, He paid for all of it--both the earned and the unearned guilt. And everything else that weighs me down.

I'll just go give it to Him, then. Because I don't need this guilt anymore.