In November's Rutherford Parent

Thank you, Rutherford Parent!

Creative Rain

As necessary as it is to life, rain is a pretty unpredictable commodity. Even the professionals seem to have trouble nailing it down. You really never know when it's coming.

If you think back to elementary-school science, it's really a miracle it ever rains at all. Tiny droplets of water evaporate from large bodies of water. Those tiny droplets gather to make clouds. And if you're really lucky (or unlucky, depending on your perspective), the wind blows the clouds over your garden just when they can hold those droplets no longer.

And. It. Rains. Refreshing drops burst onto the parched earth, quenching and replenishing all with its vital gift of water.

Miraculous as the event may be, it's not always welcomed. Weddings. Parades. Days at the beach. In fact, the only time I'm certain it will rain is the day I've washed my car. And fixed my hair. And left my umbrella at home.

But really, how can we be so finicky with such a vital component of life?

Creative inspiration is quite the same, isn't it? Necessary to life (both spiritually and financially!) but a bit unpredictable. It rains down on you in buckets when you're driving down the road or in the shower, neither situation being very conducive to laptopping.

And when it comes--when inspiration rains down--how do we react? Do we run and grab our buckets? Are we out there eagerly gathering the blessing of creativity raining down on us? What do we do when unthunk thoughts are passing through, when the Vein of Gold is pulsing wildly?

Well, if you're like me, you ask it to come back later . . . when you're sitting at your desk with a fresh cup of coffee. When the house is quiet. When the laundry's done. When the other project is complete.

Then, even in that perfect storm, when all of the droplets gather, blow overhead, and burst onto me while I'm perched at my desk with a semi-quiet house, what do I do?!

That's right. I doubt it. I rationalize the idea away! I discard that gift of creative rain like a gum wrapper. That title's already taken. . . . I'm sure there's someone more qualified to write about that. . . . Well, I called, and they never called me back. . . . I'm sure there are a thousand books about green unicorns who eat purple Popsicles all day. . . .

How finicky we are with such a vital commodity . . . with such a miraculous gift.

If we're truly wanting to create, if our purpose and passion is to change the world with new information, thoughts, and ideas, we will have our buckets ready. Our front yard will be full of them. (Or we'll at least have a notepad in our bag.) We'll stand in our freshly coiffed hair beside our freshly washed car and lift our arms in thanksgiving as the rain falls and we're washed in that rare moment of inspiration.

The rain of inspiration will not wait for our creative utopia to be built. It comes. It rains. And life is revived as a result.

Trust the rain. Trust its timing. Trust its message. And be bold enough--be grateful enough--to share its life-reviving qualities with the world.


Originally posted 6/29/2009

You ARE Organized!

(my desk. shhh . . .)

Imagine my surprise when I overheard Hubby telling someone, "Amy keeps us organized."


I almost spit out my teeth. 


"Organized?!" I interrupted.


If it had not been for a rare loss for words, I would've continued, "Have you seen my desk?! Or my inbox?! Have you noticed my blogstipation--ahem, the irregularity of my blog posts?!"


Few people would dub me organized. 


But that amazing Hubby of mine--the one who has the rare gift of seeing and proclaiming the best in me--he noticed.


Upon being chastised, he back-pedaled a bit. "Well, I mean that you keep our lives organized."


Oh. 


Well. 


He was right.


Sure, the laundry's piled up and you could hide a dinosaur on my desk. But when it comes to life--birthday cards and school stuff and being at the right place at the right time (or close enough)--it's true. I'm on it. 


(I live in a house full of boys. I really have no choice.)


So for you fellow scatter-brained, T-shirt-stained, got-hit-by-a-train moms: Everything may look like a crazy, chaotic mess. But underneath all that, where the growing hearts and minds of this world reside, where life happens (and the only place it really matters), you keep us organized.


Laundry can wait. 


Love can't. 


Life won't.

Kid Wisdom: Baseball in Heaven

"I'll bet there'll be baseball in heaven," the seven-year-old thinks out loud. "And all kinds of other sports."

"Except it'll be called God-ball.

"And if you win, you'll get to sing God songs.

"And if you lose . . .

"You'll get to sing God-songs."

Be the Change!

From my website: www.amyparkerbooks.com

Wow. A super-sweet article from Deb Simpson ran in the Murfreesboro Post this weekend. She even plugged Hubby's new business! 


Thank you, Deb!


Deb Simpson is changing the world with her words too. Not only is she making little authors like me feel special, she is also--much more importantly--using her books to help children find their safe place. She also writes poetry and nonfiction.


God gave us all the tools to change the world. How can you use yours--today? 

What I Learned at Story

"Beauty will save the world." ~Fyodor Dostoevsky

If you are connected to me at all on Facebook or Twitter, you are well aware that I have just attended the Story conference in Chicago . . . which from this point forth (at least as far as I have the authority to dictate) will no longer be called the Story "conference," but the Story experience.


There's really no other way to explain it.


I can't tell you what I learned.


Sure, I can recite several new poignant quotes and tidbits of trivial information. (For example, Ed Saxon, producer of Silence of the Lambs, did a cameo as a head in a jar in that film. And his grandmother was a Rockette. And he didn't inherit those genes. And I have the video to prove it. ;)


But what practical information did I learn? What new skill will I be taking home to apply to my craft?


Well. I just don't know.


I do know this:


When I exited that building today (or technically yesterday), I chose to walk back to the hotel, instead of taking a cab. (Okay, so that may be rationalized as a life-saving effort, but there's more . . .)


As I crossed through the less desirable part of town, I didn't see poverty; I saw precious people.


I didn't dwell on the gravel-lined, chain-link fence. But I grinned at a lone, purple flower defying its environment.


I didn't feel fear; I felt the protection of God.


When a passing cab driver yelled obscenities to the horse-drawn carriage that was slowing the pursuit of the American dream, I was reassured by the strength and power and rhythm of slow and steady hooves.


I was lifted by the orange and yellow ruffled flower pinned to lapel of the weathered lady who was carting her life's treasures behind her.


Tonight, as I finally get the chance to rest and reflect, I'm not whining about the industrial glare through my hotel window; I am grateful for the light, casting cross-shaped coronas just for me.


And when I could be snuggling into a comfy hotel pillow, I am choosing to press on, hold my little instrument, and write.


So, what did I learn from the Story experience?


I'm sorry; I can't tell you.


But keep watching, my friends, and I promise, I'll show you.

Friday Tip: Check Out These Monkeys!

Okay, I'll admit: I only found this site after it had reviewed and was giving away my Daddy book. (And after connecting with Angie, I blushingly realized she had given away three other books in the past!)


BUT once I got there, oh good golly, what amazing stuff I found!


If you're a parent, take care of children, like to craft--if there is a kid anywhere within a fifty-mile radius--you'll want to check out this site. Parent-friendly product reviews and giveaways galore overflow from the pages of this Disney World (you know, you could stay forever and still not do it all) site.


So, don't take my word for it. Stop reading this post and check. them. out.


www.MyFourMonkeys.com


You're welcome. ;)