After staring at a computer screen with nothing but a title for way too long, I’ve finally started writing my next book. It’s a crazy process for me. And one I can’t stand doing alone.
So, might you take a little peek into my world of words being strung together, thoughts getting sorted out, and a whisper of a book being formed?
If you would please, tuck your thoughts in a comment below. I’d love to hear how this speaks to you. And if you have any ideas for what you’d like to see covered in a book about helping women know when to say yes and how to say no, I’m all ears. And typing fingers.
And very grateful for smart blog friends.
She was knocking at my front door trying to balance her paper coffee cup, her purse, her cell phone, and a stack of papers. She was also trying to fix something on her shoe. She hopped a step or two when I answered the door.
I smiled. And although I had been feeling a little off kilter all morning, her imperfect posture delighted my mind. She smiled back and hopped one more time.
Finally, whatever was wrong with her shoe seemed to be fixed. She stood up and smiled with an apologetic smile that made me adore her before we’d ever had our first conversation.
She spent all day with my family and me. She was a reporter doing a story on our sons adopted from Africa. Her questions were honest and unassuming. Her demeanor kind. Her laugh delightfully loud. Her paperwork messy. But her focus clear.
She was there to uncover a story.
To write a string of words to tell a story.
That day was about the story.
So she stayed focused on the task at hand. She wasn’t encumbered with a thousand other things pulling at her. She didn’t try to multi-task too much. She wasn’t a slave to her cell phone. She wasn’t running late or running from one thing to the next.
She said no to everything else pulling at her. So she could say yes to the story. She gave it her best yes.
At the writing of this, I have no idea how well the story will turn out. But this woman who demonstrated a best yes that day left a lasting impression on my family for sure.
Later at dinner my husband, Art, asked the kids to go around the table and say one word to describe the reporter.
Then there may or may not have been an awesome little exchange from an older sibling to the youngest child, “You can’t say humble. I just said humble. You always want to copy what I have to say!”
I love family bonding.
But I really love the collective experience of this non-crazy woman. And the words my kids used to describe her.
Art went on to ask the kids to explain what she did and how she carried herself that led us to use such great words to describe her. Then he turned the conversation on each of us.
“If you want people to use such great words to describe you, think about the decisions you are making. How are they leading people to describe you?”
Great descriptions are birthed from great decisions.
And there it was. A small beginning of a big thing to ponder. A clue that better decisions might help make better lives for the souls of women caught in craziness. Snagged. Worn out. Worn down. Ragged.
The decisions we make, make the life we live. So if we want to live better, we’ve got to decide better. Yes. No. The two most powerful words in the English language.
They can run us if we don’t intentionally run them. Guard them. Guide them. Use yes and no to work for us. Can you imagine how great life would be if you didn’t dread saying yes and felt completely and unapologetically empowered to say no?
Then and only then will our best selves emerge. And maybe you and I can start to be a little less crazy.