I’m A Writer

I hear your “Duh” to the title of this post. I mean, after all, I blog so I must be a writer!

True, true, true, but this morning I woke up to an email that read: “We wanted to let you know “A Thousand Words” is live.

I’m all smiles!

I am now officially a published writer! Yes, I have self-published a few books but this is my first piece where my writing has been validated outside of me and family and friends.

What is “A Thousand Words?” It is my first piece of flash fiction, a one hundred word memoir I wrote and submitted simply because I read a post by a former college professor who had just been published. I read her piece and decided to give it a try! She was such an encourager in college and unbeknownst to her, she is still encouraging me. She is so much more prolific and successful in flash fiction than I can every hope to be but her post was the push I needed.

These days, I submit a piece a week and the rejections have returned in a steady flow but I’m okay with the process. One day, a piece will land and stick and on that day, I will be all smile again.

I have two memoirs that are works in progress, a halfway completed novel and a book on grief that is under revision plus other manuscripts that have been languishing in a Google Drive folder.

Here is the lesson to be learned: We do not age out of gifts and talents in spite of society’s side-eye at the elders who move among them. Ageism’s attempt to dull my shine has nothing to do with me or my pursuit of my passion. This old gray mare may not be what I used to be, but I’m still kicking! The kick may not be as high as it once was, but I’m still kicking!

Hey, y’all, I’m a writer!

Click here to read my piece: https://www.fiveminutelit.com/five-minutes/a-thousand-words


I have decided that the Lord is teaching me how to wait. 


(You can tell because i mention flipping the phone open)
My telephone died this past Tuesday; it just up and died in the middle of the day. I was waiting for phone call from a friend and as this friend is usually good about calling me back, I was a little perturbed that I had not received a phone call. Then the thought occurred to me, “Check your phone; it might be dead.” (I hate it when I do things like that.) Sure enough, there it was, blacker than a thousand midnights down in a Cypress swamp (my apologies Mr. Johnson). I hurried to plug it into the charger. Nothing. Well, that charger has always been wonky, so I go to the Sprint store with my story of me and my dead phone. I wait forty five minutes while the tech plugs it into the charger. They give me sympathy (awww) and a new charger. I go home and charge the phone for two hours. Nothing. I return to the Sprint store that afternoon with my saga of woe, my dead phone and my new charger. They decide to charge it in the store. “Heyyy, been there, done that.” I must say that the store people were very understanding (awww), but since I had no insurance and could not qualify for an upgrade at this time (because I just upgraded to a new line and a new phone), they could do. . .Yep. . . Nothing. I go home and cal the number the store manager gave me to call and plead my case (the Retentions department as in we want to keep our customers). I call. They do. . . say it with me. . .Nothing (apparently I am the one customer they do not care about losing). I go home. I plug my phone back into the charger the store gave me that morning because the phone does work on the charger. Finally, something. There is just one teeny, little problem. I am tethered to the phone and when I am away from an electrical outlet, I have no phone because the minute I unplug it from the charger, it dies, again and again and again. Nothing, nada, zilch, naught. My budget is not inclined towards a new telephone and will not be so for a while. I resign myself to having telephone privileges only when I am in the presence of electrical outlets. Didn’t I read something about telephones exploding as individuals talked on phones while the phones were being charged? I decide to take my chances. I am tethered to the phone for two days and when I am in the car or at a place where there is no outlet, I feel like as though some vital part of me is missing but I can’t quite figure out what that something is. Then today, this morning, a.m., I glance over at the phone tethered to the charger and the light is green! What-t-t-t? I stare at it for a minute before I release it from the charger. I hold it in my hands and slowly flip it open. Oh joy and ecstasy, the screen is active. Eureka and Hallelujah, It’s alive. It’s alive. It’s alive. Oh, Thank you Lord, thank you, thank you, thank you. . . . Uh oh. Things that make you go Hmmmmm.

I have decided that the Lord is teaching me how to wait.

Don’t you just love God’s teachable moments?

2021 – Yep, I’m still learning!

Come Grow Old With Me (If You Dare)

I no longer bound out of bed these days. I pray my way out of bed these days. I slowly sit up and throw my legs over the side of the bed. I sit there for a few moments to meditate on whether I should even try to get up. I must daily choose not be defeated by any geriatric state of mind so I slowly rise to stand even as cranky joints grudgingly respond to the call of the brain, “Get up, get up, GET UP!!! Slowly, inch by inch, I will myself up to my full height, whatever that looks like these days because as we age, we shrink, I think. I wobble into the bathroom for my thousandth visit since I lay down to sleep the evening before (I blame the blood pressure meds). I stare in the mirror and note the bedhead state of my hair. I can see clearly now since cataract surgery and I stare into a face that will greet me every morning from this day forward. I really did not understand just how diminished my vision was until the day after the surgery on the first eye and my face came into all its glorious focus. It took me more than a minute to recover. All I could think was a line the character Aunt Bee had in an Andy Griffith Show episode about aging, “You’re no spring chicken any more!” No spring chicken anymore. Nope, not anymore. My snapback has lost all of its snap and refuses to come back. It just limply lies there waiting for someone, or something, to push it back into place. My hair grows in gray and rallies agains any hair dye that tries to encroach on its territory. Crows peck at the outer corner of my eyes and chin whiskers grow at the speed of light as they defy tweezers. People tell me I don’t look my age, whatever they think my age may be, but my hands will not lie to save face. Birthdays insist on adding up and they refuse to stop showing up every year with another reminder that time marches on. My 18 year old mind is confused about my physical state of affairs and keeps sending out orders with which my obstinate body refuses to comply.

Still, grace continues to somewhat ameliorate the effects of growing older. I am still here, present enough to laugh with daughters, love on grandchildren and celebrate small victories. Ice cream is still a treat (always in moderation as is everything these days) and the hint of Autumn in the air wraps me with warm memories of yesterday. I move forward in the assurance of my faith which reminds me God still cares for me and He will take good care of me. I celebrate today because everyone, young or old, knows for sure (especially these days), that tomorrow is not promised to anyone of any generation.

“Grow old along with me!
The best is yet to be,
The last of life, for which the first was made:
Our times are in His hand
Who saith “A whole I planned,
Youth shows but half; trust God: see all, nor be afraid!”

~excerpt from “Rabbi Ben Ezra” by Robert Browning

The fact of the matter is that everyone is aging no matter their age. We may not always be able to grow old gracefully every moment of every day but grow old we shall so come grow old with me — it’s all about mind over matter; if you don’t mind, it doesn’t matter. I’m good with that.

What Shall We Say To These Things?

The world is in chaos. The world is in turmoil. The world is full of Chicken Littles who run here, there and everywhere, crying out to all, “The sky is falling, the sky is falling.” Conked on the head by an acorn of truth, that moment has been turned into a mountain of distress and each believes it is now their obligation to warn everyone of the coming apocalypse.

So many Chicken Littles today, each with a personal perspective that has morphed into a worldview panic. Unfortunately, even those who proclaim to be followers of Christ now scurry around to praise those that receive their message of woe and to condemn those who refuse to buy in to their rhetoric.

“The sky is falling; the sky is falling!” The truth of a pandemic has become fodder for conspiracy theories and doom day revelations. In light of all that is being said and done, conservative versus liberal, right wing versus left wing, red versus blue, how does one find the energy to sift through all the minutia to discover the acorn of truth that is buried under red herrings by straw men?

Fear can stalk each of us but those of us who are believers can find comfort in the promises of Jesus found in Matthew 11:28-30. When our souls are burdened with the cares of the world, we can find solace in Him.

Turn your eyes upon Jesus; look full in His wonderful face, and the things of this world will grow strangely

dim in the light of His glory and grace.

Matthew 11

28 Come unto me, all ye that labour and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest.

29 Take my yoke upon you, and learn of me; for I am meek and lowly in heart: and ye shall find rest unto your souls.

30 For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light.

His Eye Is On The Sparrow

I closed my prayer with the silent request, “Speak to me, Father.”

As I waited in stillness, as my selected music video from my favorite YouTube pianist played, I was distracted by an intermittent chirp. I listened closely; was it the smoke detector calling my attention to a dying battery? The chirp was not that distinct so, no, not the smoke detector.

The chirp continued and I could not ignore it. I got up from my chair and followed its call. I walked over to the front window to stand and listen.

“Chirp, chirp, chirp.” Is it a cricket in the house and if so, how did it get in? I’m in California where crickets in this neck of the woods are rare. I shuddered at the thought of having to chase down a cricket.

I pulled back the curtains to look out the window and there it was, a small bird on the walkway that leads to the front steps of the house. It pecked away at kernels of something and in between pecks it chirped. I stood there, watched it and mused that a bird which could fly chose to walk on the ground to forage for food.

My bird thoughts were interrupted by part of a scripture I had not thought of in years, “…if I take care of a two cent bird…” I could not remember all of the scripture but in that moment God reminded me of His care for me. He used a small bird that has no means other than to trust that when it looks for food, food will be found, even if it means taking a walk on concrete rather than soaring in the air.

The bird eventually walked away from the front of the house to cross the street. As I watched it, I realized that once I walked to the window to discover God’s feathered messenger, the chirps stopped though the bird remained in place for a few minutes. God got me to where He wanted me to be, to “hear” his message in the form of that tiny bird.

I returned back to my chair. As I sat, I glanced at the computer and the bible text from Mark 11:24 was on the screen. I had paid no attention to the screen during my prayer time so I was not expecting a scripture. I laughed as I read the text and thanked God for the period on His word to me through a little bird.

Mark 11:24 — “Therefore I tell you, whatever you ask in prayer, believe that you have received it, and it will be yours.

Luke 12:6, 7 — “Are not five sparrows sold for two pennies? And not one of them is forgotten before God. Why, even the hairs of your head are all numbered. Fear not; you are of more value than many sparrows.

Every Beat Of My Heart

My friend texted me about her mother’s condition as she battles COVID. My heart sank as I read the text but, as life usually does, I was distracted by my plans and I did not respond right away. As I scrolled through my tests, two days later, my friend’s text popped up to remind me I had not responded.

Rather than type out my prayer response, I tapped the microphone icon to pray out loud. I needed to hear my voice as I shared it with my friend. What surprised me, as I prayed, was the tender tone of my voice. It was gentler than usual. This epiphany gave me pause to think about the tone of my voice as I’ve “encouraged” others in the past.

What I heard today was my heartbeat in that prayer, a precious moment of heart connection with my friend as I felt her heartache as she watched her mother struggle to breathe, as she realizes there is nothing she can do but cry out to God for His intervention.

I’ve probably always known this but have not really thought about the heart to heart connection of prayer. I remember the elders of my past who prayed that we would have love that ran from heart to heart, from breast to breast. Prayer links us to the hearts of those for whom we pray.

Also, sometimes we are so focused on the prayer that we miss God’s heartbeat in our prayers. Prayer is not just a vocal expression but it also a moment of a linking of hearts, a moment of sensing God’s heartbeat in our prayers and in hearing His heartbeat, we feel their heartbeat, their heartache, their struggles, their brokenness.

I heard God’s heartbeat this morning. I heard it in my prayer as my heart linked to the heart of my friend.

Psalm 69:13 –

But as for me, my prayer is to you, O Lord.

At an acceptable time, O God,

in the abundance of your steadfast love answer me in your saving faithfulness.

What Do You Want? What Do You Need?

I have a Clubhouse Room – Reflect and Refresh – It is.a 15 minute room, a short devotional and prayer. For the last two weeks I have been praying through the names of God. One of the names of God is El Shadday/El Shaddai. I thought I knew the meaning of this name of God, The Lord is sufficient. However, when I did the research, I did discover that meaning but I also discovered two other meanings attached to this name.

Though it is not entirely clear the true meaning of El Shaddai, it can be defined as God Almighty with a reference to the time Moses was in the mountain and received the 10 commandments. El Shaddai is God of the Mountain. As I mulled over that meaning, I discovered another meaning for El Shaddai, the Lord the overpowerer. Though I have a hard time pronouncing the word, I understood the implication as in Luke 1:37 and Matthew 19:26, “With God nothing is impossible.” Though God will not violate His word, He will keep His word (Psalm 115:3) and His word is “I Am enough.”

As I put these meanings together, here is what I “hear:” God Almighty, God of the mountain, is enough. I no longer need to be concerned about whether I am enough or if I have enough. God Almighty is more than enough and when I call on His name, El Shaddai,, He can overpower every challenge, every obstacle, every challenge in my life and when I live out that knowledge in my life, when I activate my faith, frustration and fear take a back seat to faith. It is easy enough to mourn over what isn’t but God’s call is to celebrate and trust that He is and He is enough for every concern and need. The next time you face a need, change, challenge, remember this: God Almighty is enough.

What do you want? What do you need? God Almighty is Enough.

The Old Timer In The Room

I was in Clubhouse, an new social media platform where conversations can be had with people across the globe. It was a memoir writing session. Individuals in the room shared their writing challenges as well as tips on how to begin the writing process. One woman wondered about including real names in the memoir she is writing and how she might find a third grade teacher to get her permission to include her name in the memoir. A young man in the virtual room suggested she try Facebook because “That’s where you can find the Old Timers, for sure you’ll find her there!” He chuckled as he shared this tidbit.

Wait a minute! I’m on Facebook! Does that make me an Old Timer and when exactly did that happen?

Yes, the date on my calendar moves me into a certain chronological season and yes, the gray roots of my hair are determined to take control, but Old Timer?

I walked into that virtual Clubhouse a little over a month ago. I had no clue what to expect. I really was a reluctant member, only accepted the invite because a friend wanted me to join her on the platform for a room she was moderating. After the session ended, I wandered into another room, a room filled with professional musicians. What could I possibly have in common with a room filled with professional musicians.

I can’t remember the topic but I did share my view on the subject matter. But I wanted to make a connection with those in the room where everyone seemed to know each other. My daughters are professional musicians so I decided to name drop and lo and behold, some in the room recognized their names. I was adopted by osmosi. BUT, the man who has known my daughter since her early foray into the music industry as a professional decides that from this point that I will be Mama D! From that point forward, as if a text was sent out, every room I’ve stepped into has decided that my name should be “Mama Donna,” or “Mama D.”

The joke is on me for if it’s one thing that I have never wanted to be, I never wanted to be “Mother,” or “Mama.” No, not in the biological sense. I have three daughters and I do answer to Mama when they call. But, in my culture, once a woman reaches a certain age in some church denominations, she almost automatically becomes “Mother.” My image of that church mother is one of a little old woman dressed in white who sits in the Amen corner clutching a purse filled with crumpled tissue and lint covered peppermints. I am not that woman … or so I thought!

Well, apparently, I am that woman, the woman whose voice (because Clubhouse is only audio and your picture) dictates that her she should be called “Mama,”

The revelation that comes with this moment in time is how often my new title “Mama,” also comes with “you have so much wisdom.” I do not think of myself as a wise woman; I just share from the reservoir of my life experiences and I don’t see that as an age thing. It is a God moment in those Mama moments.

God has gently nudged me into a new season, a season of nurturing and encouraging men and women that I may never meet in person but to whom I have been adopted as “Mama.” He is refining my view of my place and redefining my view of me in this season as He continues to pull me into the purpose He has already designed for me.

God has a sense of humor and I’m learning to laugh right along with Him!