Hello, my friends! It has been a long while since I’ve blogged, or been on any social media at all. I’m back, and you can find me on Instagram at
brenda_at_bespoken
If you’d like to be on my email list, you can let me know by dropping a yes to:
bespokenint@icloud.com
I have been and plan to continue to be busy with writing children’s books, along with numerous other ventures I’ll be sharing in coming weeks. As a way to jump back in, I decided to share something I wrote many months ago, about how my desire to be a children’s book author got shut down, and how God in His mercy, has brought this childhood dream back to life. I hope you enjoy.
A Second Chance
In my memory, everything about that evening was magical. Everything but the laughter.
Granted, it was a long time ago, coming up on half a century. Navigating life through time changes us, and I’m sure it changes our memories of moments lived, as well. So, why is it the laughter is what I still hear, all these years later?
The moon was bright over the countryside pond in rural Wisconsin. Brighter still was the glow from the fire around which I and the other young retreatants sat, singing songs to a guitar, basking in the glow of getting to know each other a bit better. We, who had come from all over the nation to be part of a youth movement, were so young. We didn’t know how to be anything but vulnerable: likewise, we’d not yet learned the skills needed to hold one another’s hearts gently and well.
The question posed that evening for discussion was a common one among young people back in the late 70’s: what do you want to do/be when you grow up? We knew we weren’t yet ‘grown up’, that is, mature. We also knew our hearts had been speaking for a dozen years or more of what it is that makes us come alive.
Shyness and I were best friends, and I once again tried to find a shadow in which to hide so I wouldn’t have to answer. After all, everyone else had dreams of being a doctor or an airline pilot or a schoolteacher, occupations that came with honor and respect — and money. I? I wanted to write children’s books. Books that would help children know they were seen, their voices heard. I wanted to help children know that their stories matter.
All was going well until, Shoot. I looked up and the leader looked at me, always the sign of “Do you want to share next?” Oh, how I did not. But, I was an obedient one, so had no choice. I remember taking my time, being so afraid to speak out what my heart held. Finally, I whispered, “I really want to write children’s books.” There. It was out in the atmosphere. I said it and I didn’t die. I let a bit of my heart leak out and it hung there in the air. I can see myself, sitting up straighter, squaring my shoulders, waiting in the silence for my new friends to affirm and encourage me – and it started. Laughter. Maybe it wasn’t unkind, though it felt so. Maybe they were just shocked at a response so unlike any of their own. Maybe that was their way of saying, yes, we see that in you, it is obvious. But to me, it was needles. No, it was swords, finding its way to my open, frightened, now closing down, heart. And without words, the leader moved on to the next person and all I really remember is the laughter.
I crawled into a cave that night, one in which I hoped I and my unspoken, unexpressed voice would be safe. It has taken me years to pop my head out and peer about, wondering if the coast is clear, if the laughter has stilled. While I was not yet fully convinced, it was my precious husband, Jim, who insisted I step out and be brave, publish a book and see what happens. (He doesn’t realize I didn’t step out, I crawled out tentatively on hands and knees.) And here I am.
Thank you for not laughing. Thank you for taking a chance on my words and purchasing the book. Thank you for your kind feedback. Perhaps some of you are relating, though in a very different scenario, to my fireside story. Maybe, perhaps, with God’s help and grace, we all are becoming as brave as Bunny. Learning to Love Ourselves To Life. Xo