In a perfect world, when I opened the door to opportunity I wouldn't find trouble waiting on my doorstep. I would have plenty of time to write and my book would be a best seller. I would exercise enough to get rid of my muffin top and physical pains would all disappear. I would be a perfect wife and mother, a great choir director and teacher, a benevolent philanthropist, etc.

In reality, I struggle every day. There's not enough time. Besides that, trouble doesn't wait until I open the door. It comes through the phone, through TV, through the internet, and through family members and pets already inside my home. There's no avoiding trouble, so I might as well face it and fight.

Except, I never know when it's coming, or how. Will it knock or barge in, ring or leave a message? Or will I step in it? Some days I walk wary of an obstacle that might fly up like a rake to smack me in the face. The worst days, I step out of bed and into a mess before I'm fully awake. Other days I go on my merry way and nothing hits, rings, or knocks. So, should I expect the worst and be pleasantly surprised if it doesn't happen? Works for me, except when I forget.

Forgetfulness isn't my only problem. Sometimes it's all I can do to put one foot in front of the other without tripping on my own shoelaces. Yup, I'm awkward. Sometimes when I do step forward, everything crashes down on top of me. It couldn't be me who over-obligated my time, could it? Then other times, I step backwards or around to avoid the obstacles ahead. No fear there. Yeah, right.

But I do take steps, somewhere. Like now, blogging because my brain overloaded on router restriction instructions. I never wanted to know that stuff, but I have children who know all the dangerous shortcuts. It's my job to keep them out of trouble until they learn to walk on their own two feet instead of stepping on mine and their father's. And every time I think they've learned to walk in the light, some new dark path opens up at their feet. So here I go, putting up new roadblocks and trying to blaze safer trails. One step at a time, I keep on going.

In life, if you stop moving, you lose. If you sit on a fence you're stuck, so climb over, walk around, dig under or knock it down. Find a walking partner or two to help you past the worst obstacles. My most frequent helpers are God and my husband. Some might say one or both are crutches used by the weak-minded. I don't care, as long as they support my fallen arches and weak knees.

When I fall, they pick me up; when I stray, they try bring me back. And sooner or later, with their help, I'll get to where I want to go. Because my goal in life isn't just avoiding trouble along the way, it's overcoming trouble, growing stronger with each victory, until at the end, when I meet my maker, I can say, "I'm home, thanks to your help."

One final note. My writer's blog focuses less on the writing process itself than on balancing other aspects of life with writing. So if that doesn't seem like a good writer's blog, this isn't the one for you. If it does, I think you're headed in the right direction, and I welcome good companions.
 
Perspective 08/17/2010
 
Over the last few months I helped a neighbor edit a book she's self-publishing. It's titled "Swan Songs: An Inspirational Journey." It's her swan song too. She has inoperable lung cancer. I spent today helping her finish the text of a children's book, also about swans. In it, an evil sea dragon captures Mr. Swan's family and holds them hostage until Swan Angel helps rescue them.

Did any of you read in the newspaper about the swans that disappeared from a Fort Walton Beach waterway and ended up in some guy's bird sanctuary in Destin? This woman, Tami Kerr, was the one who found the swans and worked with PAWS to get them relocated to Crestview. After that I heard nothing else. Turns out Crestview's waters were just as dangerous. Another brood of cygnets disappeared and the adults were losing weight to the point of starvation.

Tami, while getting more and more sick, worked tirelessly to find a safe home for the swans down in Lakeland. The swans are now cared for on their own lake by the Regal Swan Foundation. The pair finally had some babies survive.

Tami will not survive much longer. Her medical bills have devastated finances so her and her husband expect to be evicted from their foreclosed home soon. Her brother is in the process of setting up a corporation to carry on with her book, after which it will be available from lulu.com or Amazon. She may never see a print copy. So what do any of us have to complain about?
 
 
The eyes have it: enlightenment. No one appreciates their vision more than an artist or writer, unless it's a reading addict. Guilty of all charges. Retinal tears aren't fun, but thanks to lasers, my eyesight is saved again. That's right, twice I've seen the light. I should say four times, because with the tear in each eye, first came the flashes, then the laser lights at the doctor's office to seal the tear. Not fun, but better than a poke in the eye. I got free souvenirs too, permanent floaters swim around in front of my eyes, a mouse on the left, and a bunch of bugs on the right. Don't ask me if they bug me. They do. If I went cross-eyed, would the mouse eat those bugs? Or would I en