The Barometer For Success

I am getting nervous.  In less than two weeks I will be an author when my first manuscript, “Walking My Mother Home”, is published.  What started as journaling and a strong desire to write after my mother passed away in February 2011 will be part of a real live book, Journeys to Mother Love, published by Cladach Publishing.

I am elated about this new venture.  I did my part, stepping out of my comfort zone to write this story and God has blessed it.  I’ve received positive feedback and encouragement from friends and family to pursue this dream.   Yet deep inside I am scared about what lies ahead on many different levels.

First of all, the story is very personal.  I wrote it from a place of deep pain.  I’ve been very protective with the manuscript and only shared it with a few people.  In fact, I didn’t even re-read it myself until after it was accepted.  And now I am nervous about telling my story.  It feels pretty vulnerable and risky.

Then there are the financial and promotional aspects of this venture.  I have invested a lot of my time and money into this project.  As a beginning author, I may be naive, but I’m hoping my personal sales from this book make enough money to cover the costs of my pilgrimage to Spain next summer so I can finally meet Rosa and write more of this story.

This all means I’ll need to personally promote the book and myself—build a platform, schedule speaking engagements, book signings, etc.  It’s been a large learning curve.  Thankfully, a friend recommended I consider working with a publishing coach.  I didn’t even know what that was.

Three weeks ago, I hired Athena Dean of Book Jolt, to help me with all of these decisions and the marketing.  These are all things I wouldn’t have imagined myself doing a year ago—and sometimes I’m still on the fence about all of this. Ultimately I do get to choose how much of this I end up doing though.

So as I prepare to launch my book, I am nervous about “success”.  I want the book to make money.  Like most authors, I really don’t want to promote myself.  I am stressed about all the things I still need to do to prepare for the launch.  I am trying to balance this with my other family commitments.

I’ve been pondering the words of a wise friend and mentor, Tamara J. Buchan, about this very subject.  She said, “Faithfulness to the Lord is the barometer of success.”  When I focus on success as being based on my faithfulness to the Lord, then I can release my stress and my desire to control the outcome. I have been faithful and that is what God rewards.  Maybe not how we want–financially, materially, etc., but with the kinds of treasures that really matter.  For me, that’s been
the relationships I’ve gained along the way.

I am nervous, but God has blessed me with amazing healing and is equipping me to take these next steps of obedience.  I am grateful to Him and feel called to share this regardless of how successful it may appear by the world’s standards.  I am gearing up to be faithful—and successful by God’s standards.

What’s your barometer for success?  How do you define it?

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by ardisanelson on August 16, 2012  •  Permalink
Posted in Faith & Hope, Identity, My Spanish Connection, My Writing Journey
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Posted by ardisanelson on August 16, 2012

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Learning to Grieve

Grieving is such a subjective process.  If you think about it, most of us have not been taught how to grieve.  There are no preparatory classes for grieving like there are for other major changes in our life, like pre-marital counseling, parenting, childbirth or even becoming a member at your church.  There are a few grief classes like “Grief Share” conducted through churches or at local hospitals, but those are after the fact.

Generally we are thrown into it abruptly and have to figure out how to cope the best way we can.  If you seek professional help with grief or even look it up on the internet, you will learn about the “Five Stages of Grief” introduced by Elizabeth Kübler-Ross.  Depending on the depth of grief one experiences, professional help is generally a good idea—especially if you become depressed or feel hopeless with your loss.

My first experience with death was the loss of my maternal grandmother when I was ten years old.  We had just moved 2,000 miles away from my father and my friends to be near my mother’s side of the family after their divorce.  My grandmother had a heart attack one night while I was staying in her home, they rushed her to the hospital and she died.  I had only known my grandmother a few months but we were inseparable.  I remember crying buckets of tears over that loss.  Over the years, other relatives passed away, but I was not close to them and there was no grieving to speak of.

Then came the death of my father last month preceded by my mother’s passing last year.  With those losses so close together and fresh in my mind, I have found myself pondering the grief process.  After spending a week tending to family matters and the memorial service out of town, my life quickly returned to its normal hectic pace.  I wrote a few blogs about my father’s passing, I sent photos and videos to family members and even listened to a few of my recorded conversations with my father.  For the most part, these things were done void of tears.  Then there were the occasional times where out of the blue I would just cry, for what seemed like no apparent reason.  It has been mystifying to me.

What I am most grateful for in this time of emotional ups and downs is that I am modeling something to my kids that I didn’t have modeled to me growing up.  Both of my sons have caught me in some of these tearful moments.  The first time they witnessed it, I calmly and tearfully explained to them that it is part of a normal grieving process.  Their concern and assurance of their love have helped me to integrate the loss.

The biggest lesson I have learned in my year of grieving was to offer forgiveness and reconciliation with my parents while I still had the chance.  The healing of those relationships made all the difference for me.  Having no regrets has made my grieving process easier.

So how long will the tears last?  I have no idea.  Everyone goes through the stages of grief at a different pace.  I am content with God’s timing on all of this and knowing that one day He will turn all of our mourning into gladness (Jeremiah 31:13).  Until then, I am carrying on with my life and embracing the healing process that God designed for us, one tear at a time.  Those who sow with tears  will reap with songs of joy. Psalm 126:5 (TNIV)

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by ardisanelson on August 8, 2012  •  Permalink
Posted in Faith & Hope, Healing & Recovery, Relationships & Family, Spiritual Growth
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Posted by ardisanelson on August 8, 2012

https://ardisanelson.com/2012/08/08/learning-to-grieve/

Van’s Requiem

It’s been a year and half since I found out that Pedro, the Spanish young man whom we hosted as an exchange student in our home was a composer.  Since that time, his music has become an integral part of my life, including the culmination of recording his music and putting it online.

A few days after my father died, I received an email from Pedro with “Van’s Requiem” attached.  The email merely said, “You know what I can do right now from Spain, is composing.”  I let the tears flow.

A requiem is a musical composition associated with death and mourning.  When I played “Van’s Requiem” for my step-mother, she told me I couldn’t keep this song to myself and requested that I play it  at the memorial service.  She also said my father would’ve liked it.  And I agree.

My father enjoyed music.  His musical interest started in grade school when he was taught to play the violin by a nun.  He didn’t like the lessons much or her instruction, but he did love music.  He soon took to learning other instruments on his own.  He could play the string bass, clarinet, saxophone, accordion and the organ.  He also had his own band, Bud & His Buddies, for a few years in the late 1930’s to earn some extra money after high school.

Dad passed that love of music down to his family.  My older brother played Dad’s saxophone in school as well as some of Van’s grandchildren, including both of my sons.  For my sons anyway, the saxophone was their secondary instrument.  It was a small way that they got to connect with their grandfather.

I took a few piano lessons in college, but by that time, it was just too difficult for me.  I turned my love for music into an easier way to enjoy it—by working at the college radio station as a disc jockey and eventually becoming the Music Director.  It was a far cry from reading sheet music or performing in recitals, but fun nonetheless.

When Dad met Pedro last summer, they had an impromptu music gathering at the piano and organ.  Pedro played some of his own compositions and attempted to play whatever sheet music my father put in front of him.   It was entertaining to watch and even more precious to me when I watched the videos after my father recently passed away.

The day after Dad passed away, I sent an email to Pedro to tell him the sad news.  I was shocked to notice that they met exactly one year ago—July 10, 2011.  It was hard to watch those videos.  My father’s health deteriorated a great deal since then, but it didn’t seem as noticeable until I watched those videos.

Dad & Pedro doing a sound-check on the family organ, 7/10/11.

I am incredibly glad I recorded that time between Pedro and my father.  One of the songs Dad asked Pedro to play was “The Old Rugged Cross”.  Unfortunately Pedro didn’t know that song.  One year later, I found out that song was Dad’s favorite hymn.  We closed his memorial service with it.

The service was opened with “Van’s Requiem.” I know that on that day one year ago when this relationship was developed, the basis for “Van’s Requiem” was also being developed.  The ripple effect of that encounter had eternal consequences.  I’m sure my father was tapping his toes to his own personal song.

“Van’s Requiem” © 2012 Pedro González Arbona

Indeed music is an integral part of my life.  It has created memories that are priceless to me.  And along the way, it has grown my faith too.

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by ardisanelson on August 1, 2012  •  Permalink
Posted in My Spanish Connection, Pedro's Musical Pursuits, Relationships & Family
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Posted by ardisanelson on August 1, 2012

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Saying Goodbye to My Father, Part 3 – Letting Go

My Dad was a cancer survivor.  29 years ago he was diagnosed with a rare form of cancer in the parotid (saliva) gland.  At the time, only three other people had ever been diagnosed with this and all of them had died.  His prognosis was grim with a life expectancy of less than a year.  My father recognized his survival as a miracle, but never understood why his life was spared.

As family went through his belongings, personal affects and files the week he died, I came across a letter from that time in his life.  It was so profound for me in connecting the dots of his life that I used this as a key part of his eulogy.

My father accepted Christ as his Savior during this time and he was preparing to die.  His letter logically explained to family and friends what was happening medically, but it also showed a side of my father that I didn’t see in later years.  In the letter, he shared his faith in God and asked for prayer on his behalf.  Clearly those prayers were answered.  As I read that letter, the reason(s) why God spared his life 29 years ago became clear to me.

One of the hardest lessons to learn as a Christian is that we are not in control and that we need to trust God.  Proverbs 3:5-6 speaks to that: “Trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding;in all your ways submit to him, and he will make your paths straight.”  It is easy to trust God as long as things go the way we want them too—and we think we are in control.  But God has a way of reminding us that we are not God and to not rely on our own self-sufficiency.

What I observed about my father during his final years was how hard it was for him to let go of the control of his life.  No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t be self-sufficient any longer.  He had to accept the frailty and aging of his body.  He had to accept his periods of mental incapacity.  He had to accept help—and learn to ask for it.  He had to let go of the timing of his death.  It frustrated him.  And I think one reason my father’s life was spared 29 years ago was that he had to learn to let go and give God control.  He was a stubborn man and so it took him a long time to finally surrender to God’s plan for his life.

More importantly, I think the main reason my father survived that rare cancer was because of the healing and forgiveness that needed to happen in our family.  Dad may not have directly realized it, but he said things to family members in the months, weeks, days and hours before he died that provided much healing and closure.  I know that if he passed away all those years ago, this healing wouldn’t have happened.

For me, learning to let go and turn over my will and desires to Christ is a daily battle.  Sometimes I’m not sure if it’s because I’m a “Van Boxtel” or because I’m human.

Me & Dad circa 1962.

As my father neared the end of his life, I had to learn to let go of him too.  I let go of expecting the words of affirmation that the “little Ardis” never got from him.  As an adult, I was learning to love him for who he was.  When I did that, I ended up getting what I longed for, but it had to be in God’s timing and ways, not my own.

Two weeks after his passing, I am learning to let go of not getting any more answers from him.  No more questions about my mother and no more questions about what happened when my parents divorced.  It’s pretty final.  I’m getting to be ok with that.  And I’m resting in the knowledge that he is at peace and my letting go is only temporary.  I’ll see both of my parents in the blink of an eye, and ALL of my questions will be answered then.

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by ardisanelson on July 26, 2012  •  Permalink
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Posted by ardisanelson on July 26, 2012

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Saying Goodbye to My Father, Part 2 – Relationship Healing

My father and I had several memorable conversations over the last few years as I tried to prepare myself for his passing.  My parents divorced when I was nine.  My mother, two brothers and me moved 2000 miles away so we could be near my mother’s family.  My contact with my father was very limited after that day.  My husband and I moved back to the Pacific Northwest many years ago and started to have more regular contact with him.  Even as an adult, I still longed for his acceptance and love for me.  I knew I had that as I watched him leave this earth last week.

It was a painful and surreal experience to watch my father pass away before my very eyes.  My mother passed away a year ago.  I had a strong desire to be there when she passed, but it wasn’t meant to be.  I had no such expectations or hopes with my father.  Interestingly enough, the emotional healing I received as a result of my mother’s passing was what I needed to help me prepare for my father’s passing.

It was a long road to this place of peace between us.  I’ve done a lot of emotional and spiritual healing work over the last ten years and am a strong advocate for Christian 12-step programs, like Celebrate Recovery, that helped me to face my brokenness and to forgive.  My relationship with Christ gave me the strength and courage to journey into the painful places that I needed to deal with in order to free myself from the unmet expectations I still carried with me.  In doing so, I learned to love my father as he was—with all of his imperfections.

Except for reading my mother’s eulogy and memorial program from a year ago, my father had not seen any of my writing or knew of my desire to write.  I visited him in February shortly after my first manuscript was accepted by Cladach Publishing in the compilation Journeys to Mother Love.  I feared that he wouldn’t live long enough to see it in print, so I wanted him to know about this story.  Even though it was difficult for him to read or to hold his concentration for very long, he asked to read it.  I was shocked when he sat at the computer with its enlarged print and read the whole story in one sitting.  “Very, very good writing,” he said.  His words were a precious gift.

Last picture with my father, April 2012.

Then a few months later when I needed help with more information for the final edits, he filled in some of the gaps in my memory.  Those edits were accepted in the final proof of the manuscript hours before rushing to be by his side in the hospital at 2 AM.  My story, “Walking My Mother Home,” about the healing I received as I prepared for my mother’s passing, was the topic of our final conversation together.  He agreed to tell my mother “hello” when he got to heaven.  And he agreed to tell her I was ok and that I love her.  I was also able to thank him for his help with the manuscript.

My conversations with my father after that were brief in nature and geared toward his health care.  Our final private time together was in my brother’s home the following day.  He was resting in his new recliner.  I sat at the desk next to him writing his eulogy on my laptop.  Hours later he passed away.

I never did finish writing his eulogy.  In the days that followed his passing, my time was torn between family obligations and other preparations.  I gathered my thoughts though and jotted down some notes.  I trusted that the Holy Spirit would give me the right words to say.

The hours leading up to his memorial, I was stressed with last minute logistics.  I was nervous too.  I’ve spoken at church functions and shared my recovery testimony several times, but except for my husband and my younger brother, my family had never heard me speak.  This was a whole new arena to step out of my comfort zone.

Strangely enough though, as I stood in front of family to share the final reflections that I felt God led me to say about my father and his legacy, I was in total peace.  The healing I received with my mother’s passing the year before made me whole enough to face this new challenge.  God had miraculously connected the timing and significance of these two events.

I know that my true identity is ultimately in Christ.  But for me and the orphaned spirit I often felt throughout my life, I can now see my additional identity as a woman who was uniquely loved by two very different parents, each with their own brokenness and burdens.  They both left me with a legacy of healing.  And for that I am eternally grateful.

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by ardisanelson on July 20, 2012  •  Permalink
Posted in Faith & Hope, Healing & Recovery, Identity, My Writing Journey, Relationships & Family
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Posted by ardisanelson on July 20, 2012

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Saying Goodbye to My Father, Part 1 – His Legacy

My father died last week after living a long life of 94 years.  It was such a beautiful passing with family by his side.  He had just come home from the hospital hours earlier.  We all knew he was coming home to die, but didn’t realize how quickly his time would come.

The family was preparing to provide his hospice care for several weeks.  Just hours before he passed away, we met with the hospice nurse and were instructed on how to administer his meds and keep him comfortable in his final days.  An hour after the nurse left the house, my father’s condition rapidly deteriorated and my older brother, John, was tested in his new caregiver role much sooner than he anticipated. He rose to the occasion and demonstrated grace and wisdom under pressure.

My younger brother, Glen, arrived from St. Louis just hours earlier and had a poignant conversation with our father.   Dad blessed Glen with words that provided closure and reassurance of his love. Other family members were quickly called to the home and a bedside vigil ensued for the next two hours.

After my dad passed away, we had the added luxury of remaining with him before he was taken to the funeral home.  We held an impromptu wake, telling stories of his life, laughing and crying and processing out loud what we had all just witnessed.  We were in a bit of shock, but not totally unprepared for the finality of it all.  It was so perfectly orchestrated by God.

My father did not openly share his feelings or engage in sensitive dialogue.  He was analytical, logical and often critical in nature.  But in recent years there was a softening of his heart.  He was learning to let go and surrender in small bits and pieces.  I was always watching and processing the changes that were going on with him—and their effect on me as well.  We were both preparing to say goodbye.

My relationship with Christ provided the perspective I needed as I witnessed the events surrounding his death.  Not only did I get closure, but I also witnessed or heard second-hand of other conversations family members, like Glen, had with my father.  When it came to writing his eulogy, those reflections were immediately where I felt led to share.  I wanted my family to remember the softening of his heart and the good that he tried to leave us with.

His memorial was a beautiful family event.  My step-mother told me he would’ve been proud.  Even though there were many tears and lots of sentimental things shared, I think he would’ve been proud too.  He left this family with many legacies: his frugality, his wisdom, his wit, his perseverance, his pursuit of excellence, his logic and analysis of every situation and I think greatest of all, as my brother John shared at the memorial, was his final provision for his family.

My father lived a long, long life of 94 years.  He had a passion for his hobbies like fishing and playing bridge.  He travelled the world with his wife by his side.  Yet he also scrimped and saved.  So in light of that, I think he was preparing to say goodbye all his life.  It was a beautiful legacy to leave his family.

Family crest designed by my father.

We love you Dad.  Thanks for each and every legacy you left for us.

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by ardisanelson on July 17, 2012  •  Permalink
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Posted by ardisanelson on July 17, 2012

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Writing: My First Year, Part 4 – Finishing Strong

Almost two months to the day I submitted my manuscript to Cladach Publishing, I received an email that my story was being accepted for publication.  It was the biggest confirmation possible that I really was on the right path with my writing.  Not only was I a writer, but technically I was now going to be an author.  This was such exciting news for me and worthy of a celebration.  (See “Waiting on Pins & Needles” for more information.)

Once the initial shock wore off, my mind was filled with a hundred questions and a new fear sunk in—fear of the unknown.  Thankfully I had a dedicated group of friends supporting and praying for me.  I also knew three authors, Tamara J. Buchan, Henriet Schapelhouman and Michelle Hollomon, who provided wisdom as I ventured into this unknown territory.

I nervously negotiated my contract with the publisher including the retention of the foreign rights in hopes of someday publishing it in Spain.  Over the last five months, I’ve had several conversations and emails with my publisher and been faced with numerous decisions along the way.

I’ve done multiple edits to the manuscript, had photos taken for the book (thanks to a friend’s time and talent), written a one-sheet (publicity document), sought endorsements (Steven Arterburn accepted!), and navigated my website set up.  With less than two months to go before “Journeys to Mother Love” is published, my attention will turn to marketing and promotional aspects of the book and facing more fears.

Over the past year, my writing has definitely taken me into uncharted territory and stretched me outside of my comfort zone.  There was a lot of time spent in prayer and physically spent writing.  The pain in my right arm and shoulder is a reminder of my devotion to this new direction in my life and my need for some self-care.

When I tell people about the events of the last year or that I am going to be published, I am often met with surprise and excitement for these bold changes in me and what God is doing in my life.  I’ve been told that my path to publication is not typical and that it generally takes years to be published.

I don’t say this to boast.  I have to remind myself of this because I know that it is God who has made all of this possible.  I’ve had to do my part, but I believe that He has put these dreams in my heart.  I believe He has given me these confirmations so that I will continue down this path.  He knew that I would need them to continue facing my fears.

Even though I totally sense God in the midst of this, that doesn’t mean it has been easy.  There have been lots of challenges and times of doubt.  When my doubts surface, I remind myself of His faithfulness and His promises.  (Jeremiah 29:11)

So from that day one year ago that I voiced my desire to be a writer, I’ve had to consciously choose to step into this new role in my life.  As I did I was also accepting my identity in Christ more and more.  In doing so, I have found freedom to write what God lays on my heart to write.  The foundational truth that I cling to is that God accepts me unconditionally even if and when my writing is rejected.  I’d have to characterize that as a pretty strong finish to a whirlwind year of writing.

Are you open to following God’s path for you?  Where are you partnering with Him in your life or where are you fighting Him?  What has He revealed to you along the way?  What’s stopping you from finishing strong?  I’d love to hear your story.

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by ardisanelson on June 29, 2012  •  Permalink
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Posted by ardisanelson on June 29, 2012

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Writing: My First Year, Part 3 – Getting Side Tracked

One of the first emails I received after becoming a member of the Northwest Christian Writers Association was a request to submit a story on healing in mother/child relationships.  Although I knew it was tailor made for my story—the reason I felt God calling me to start writing—I didn’t act on it immediately.  Writing a 10,000 word story about my healing with my mother seemed like a luxury.

I had just started blogging, was writing e-devotionals for my church, committed to help launch Celebrate Recovery at my church and took a part-time marketing job for friend and pastor, Tamara J. Buchan.  Tamara was ramping up her team to promote her new book, Identity Crisis: Reclaim the True You.

While I’ve done lots of marketing for my husband’s business over the years, I had never worked in the publishing industry.  I had a large learning curve to overcome in this position.  What appealed to me with this job was that I knew what I learned would be used someday for marketing the book I wanted to write.  I was also drawn to working with Tamara and being so closely mentored by her.

As the deadline for the story submission approached, God kept nudging me to write the story.  My biggest fear was if I wrote the story and it was published that I would never write the bigger book.  One night as I was journaling, I noticed that since my mother died and my writing started, nine months earlier, I had already written 114,000 words in my journal.  That was more than enough for a 200-page book.  That was all I needed to confirm that I have enough material for a book.

But there was one problem still remaining—I needed dedicated time to write the story in the next three weeks.  God was making it pretty clear to me that I couldn’t write this story or my book and also work for Tamara.  It was a painful decision that weighed heavy on my heart.

I loved working with Tamara.  But I realized that continuing down this path was asking God to sanctify my disobedience.  So I quit.  The irony in the situation is that the revelations I discovered about my identity directly correlated with the message in Tamara’s book.  Working for her and reading her book took my faith and trust in God to a higher level—despite the consequences.  It was a big blessing.

I booked a few days away at a camp over Thanksgiving weekend so I could devote quality time to writing the story.  Since I never wrote anything this big or submitted a story for publication, I also hired my writing teacher, Candace Wilson, to coach my writing.  Armed in prayer covering by my friends, loaded down with a huge stack of papers that I’d accumulated over the past two years and my new laptop, I dove into the story.  (See Counting Words for a summary of my writing weekend.)

On December 1, 2011, I submitted my story, “Walking My Mother Home”, to Cladach Publishing. I met my deadline.  I was relieved.  I released the outcome to God.

Have you ever gone down a road that seemed so right, only to find out later that God had other plans?  How did you respond?  Did you fight God, bargain with Him or relinquish control and trust His plans for you?

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by ardisanelson on June 23, 2012  •  Permalink
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Posted by ardisanelson on June 23, 2012

https://ardisanelson.com/2012/06/23/writing-my-first-year-part-3/

Writing: My First Year, Part 2 – First Steps

I’ve had a burning desire to be a writer ever since my mother died about 1½ years ago.  But it wasn’t until I voiced that desire in a support group meeting one year ago last week that my desire started to become more of a reality—emotionally on the inside and visibly on the outside.

Since that day, I have received one confirmation after another.  Coincidence? Read the full post »

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by ardisanelson on June 19, 2012  •  Permalink
Posted in Faith & Hope, Identity, My Spanish Connection, My Writing Journey, Pedro's Musical Pursuits
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Posted by ardisanelson on June 19, 2012

https://ardisanelson.com/2012/06/19/writing-my-first-year-part-2/

Writing: My First Year, Part 1 – Taking the Plunge

When I was in high school, I had dreams of someday being a writer.  I wrote poems, was on the high school newspaper staff, wrote in my diary and wrote other musings that have thankfully long since been destroyed.

My college admissions application listed journalism as my intended major.  My first semester classes were all heavy in writing assignments and my grades suffered for it along with my dreams.

I abruptly changed my major to business administration and accounting with career aspirations of becoming a CPA.  I turned from a creative left-brained career path to a “safe” analytical right-brained one.

Even though my career was spent mostly in the accounting departments of various organizations, I can see that writing played a big part in many of my positions.  At work my writing was very logical and methodical.  Through the years I wrote training materials, documented procedures or wrote detailed system specifications.

Outside of work, my writing was more creative in nature.  I served as the editor of our neighborhood newsletter for a few years.  When I scrapbook, I love to tell the stories behind the photos and not just caption them.  At Christmas time, I take great effort and pride in publishing our annual family newsletter.

Why is this significant?  Because it was one year ago today that I made my desire known to be a writer by vocalizing it in a support group meeting.  I know because I accepted a plastic coin as a marker for this date.  I’ve been carrying it with me ever since and marking each month that passed until today’s anniversary.

Tonight at my own church’s Celebrate Recovery meeting (whose program didn’t exist a year ago), I will get to come forward and celebrate this milestone with other Believers who are working through life’s challenges too.

So how or why is my writing a struggle?  That’s because despite the various writing I did for my jobs, I still don’t have any professional training or credentials to back up my claim to be a writer.  And I certainly didn’t think I was capable of writing for God.

Every chance Satan got along the way he would taunt me by saying “Who do you think you are?” and “You’re not good enough.”  I’ve had to fight those voices in my head and believe what God tells me instead—that I am fearfully and wonderfully made. (Psalm 139:14)

It’s only been since that night that God has reminded me how this was His plan all along.  When I voiced my desire on that night a year ago, I started to believe that I was a writer.  That sudden shift led to a cascading effect of writing related confirmations in my life.

My writing is not something I do for career aspirations or fame and fortune (ask any Christian writer and most will agree).  I write because God has given me a message to share.  It has taken my 12th Step (carrying the message to others) in a totally new direction where I have to rely on Him in even bigger ways.   Like my blog title claims, He is “making me bold”.

The story that led me down this writing path will be published in a book later this summer called “Journeys to Mother Love”.  I’m excited to see how God wants to use it and where my left-brained writing journey will continue to lead me.

Is there someplace in your life that God is making you bold?  Where or how is He calling you to share your story?

2 Comments
by ardisanelson on June 14, 2012  •  Permalink
Posted in Healing & Recovery, My Writing Journey
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Posted by ardisanelson on June 14, 2012

https://ardisanelson.com/2012/06/14/writing-my-first-year-part-1/

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  • WELCOME to my site!

    I'm an author, writer, speaker, mentor & mom. I've struggled to find my voice all my life as I lived in the shadows of a mother with mental illness. Thankfully that was not the legacy that she handed down to me. It took a lot of recovery and deep healing work to rise above it.

    I am thankful to God for Making Me Bold in the process. Now I use my writing and speaking voice to help others on their journey to turn healing into hope.

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