Filling In the Blanks

March 11, 2025

Today’s word prompt. Do you prefer to read electronic or paper books? Why?

Paper books, mostly. The books lining my shelves reflect my need for organization; topic then author name. The sections reveal favorite authors: Francine Rivers, Mark of the Lion trilogy; C. S. Lewis, Chronicles of Narnia; Bible commentaries, older children’s books from my childhood; A Fly Went By, a favorite. On trips to the bookstore or online book sites, I manage to accumulate more books that intrigue me but remain unread. The unread take up residence on my shelves waiting for hands to hold and pages to turn.  My to-be-read stack is perpetually out of control. 


I’ve loved books and reading since I was a kid. The world around me disappeared into a story different from the one I lived in. Not necessarily unhappy, but more exciting. Until Mom would tear me away and demand that I go outside and play. 

“You always have your nose stuck in a book. Get outdoors and have some fun with your friends”, she scolded.

My childhood was great growing up in the 50s and 60s, but my teen years were full of insecurity. A nice exterior hid my natural shyness. I was okay with ‘going along to get along’. A good story or mystery took me elsewhere, away from an unfriendly outside world into a place of intrigue, romance, and easy solutions with a happily-ever-after ending.


As I left my local library, the weight of a stack of books in my child arms satisfied inside of me. I carried new worlds to explore and people to meet who lived fascinating and tragic lives. The smell, the crinkle of the plastic cover, and the effort to hold them just right so they didn’t slide off one another demanded concentration while I opened the heavy wooden door and walked down the cascade of stairs. I don’t remember who took me to and from the library. Did my parents go into the library with me or wait in the car? If they went inside, I don’t recall them carrying out books to read. No stacks of books sat on coffee tables, just a magazine or newspaper.

In my family home growing up, several inset shelves by our red-brick fireplace were tidy rows of books. Prominent on one shelf was the World Book Encyclopedia set. Uncle Harold, my mom’s brother, taught school during the year and sold World Books during his summer break. Before computers, when we couldn’t make it to the library to look things up or do research on an assignment, World Books gave us all the answers we needed. Information about the world in those treasures fed my longing to travel to China, France, South America, and Antarctica. Travel I did as an adult; Mexico, Canada, Germany, France, Mongolia, and Ireland.

The dictionary, a red Webster’s Complete Reference Dictionary and Encyclopedia was a marvel. So many words to learn and spell. How do you find a word in the dictionary if you don’t know how to spell it to begin with? Sounding out xylophone, which seemed to begin with z, would not get you to the right page!  Fun fact! Did you know that the dictionary was computerized in the 1960s for corporate and university use? 


I don’t remember learning to read. Seems like I could always read books. Do people come out of the womb with the alphabet in their noggin? In first grade, the hieroglyphics of 26 letters and assorted symbols started making sense as we put letters together into words and sentences. In the 1950s, we learned to read from Dick and Jane primers in grade school. Fun with Dick and Jane was my favorite, especially Spot the Dog. The characters also included Mother and Father, little sister, Sally, Puff the cat, and Tim the toy teddy bear. 

“Run Dick run. Run Sally run. See Spot run.”

I was fond of Dick and Sally because their lives echoed by my brother, Rick, and mine. We spent many hours playing board games, marbles across the living room floor and playing teacher and student, cops and robbers, cowboys and Indians. Guess who was the teacher?


Opening a book and being able to read a whole story was an accomplishment. But reading in front of the class was terrifying. Knees knocking and heart-pounding; it was a wonder I got a sentence out without fainting. Sometimes when the words were too hard, I stumbled through as the letters swam on the page, and cried in front of the class until the teacher took pity on me. 

"You can sit down now, Nancy", she said tenderly.


Around 10 or 11 years old, our teacher, Miss Earl, challenged us to memorize part of Hiawatha’s Childhood, a section of Henry Wadsworth Longfellow's poem, The Song of Hiawatha. Even now, 60 years later, I remember some of the verses.


By the shores of Gitche Gumee,

By the shining Big-Sea-Water,

Stood the wigwam of Nokomis,

Dark behind it rose the forest,

Rose the black and gloomy pine-trees,

Rose the firs with cones upon them:

Bright before it beat the water, 

Beat the clear and sunny water,

Beat the shining Big-Sea-Water.

There the wrinkled old Nokomis 

Nursed the little Hiawatha,

Rocked him in his linden cradle,

Bedded soft in moss and rushes,

Safely bound with reindeer sinews.


Today, my memory is a sieve leaking information but in younger years I could hold these words and worlds to cherise. 


When I travel, the Kindle digital reader conveniently contains a large library. When I buy a pre-order of a new book, I download it. But it will never be a satisfying substitute for a book, pages to flip and the crinkling sound. And oh, that smell of a paper book, especially older books! With time, some things don’t change. I still love to get lost in a good story. 

Happy Reading, to all!

Nancy

In a Mirror Dimly February 20, 2025


“You have magic soap. What does it wash away?” 


This is my writing prompt for today when I feel unmotivated and squirrely thoughts dart hither and yon. I glance out my office window on a Tennessee subzero morning with gently falling snowflakes. A few days of this abnormal freeze is nothing compared to months in the north. Yet it feels endless knowing that next week we warm up to 60 degrees. The squirrels mix in with the crows in my front flower garden and peck and dig to find the sunflower seeds I threw…see what I mean? Squirrel tracks and rabbit trails. Where was I? 


Magic soap and a mirror.


When you looked in your mirror this morning, what did you see in your face? As I’ve aged, I see my mom’s features and my dad’s Irish eyes. In my seventh decade, as in the six before it, critical words rise. 

"Look at all that gray hair."

"When did that wrinkle get deeper?"

"I'm too pale."

Please give me magic soap to get clean from the dirty comments I heap on myself. Pushing it down inside is a fruitless effort and mentally unhealthy. Criticism has a way of being resurrected at the most inconvenient moments. Even positive affirmations ring false and flat. 

“You are loved by God.”

“You’re not more wrinkled; you have a face full of character!” 

Indeed! The facts about how many muscles it takes to smile versus frown don’t penetrate my critical brain, 43 to frown and 17 to smile. “Sure, right,” I say with a frown.


What is the magic soap to wash away the negativity I hear within and see in others?

The Bible, which reveals God’s true character, scrubs criticism away; my magic soap. 

 “For now we see in a mirror dimly, but then face to face; now I know in part, but then I will know fully just as I also have been fully known. But now faith, hope, love, abide these three; but the greatest of these is love. 1 Corinthians 13: 12 & 13 NASB1995


 Even as secure as I am in God’s promise of heaven, this life on earth is partial knowledge, failing spiritual eyesight. My physical appearance doesn’t reflect the real me, my soul, and spirit. At death, God’s mirror promises a perfect reflection; no sin or imperfection. Leaving this dim world holds joy unspeakable and full of glory. 

When you look in your mirror, are you changed to see God’s reflection in you? Only when we know God's deep and filling love, can we see others as God sees them; precious and unique creations. 


Read the amplified version of 1 Corinthians slowly. 

12 For now [in this time of imperfection] we see in a mirror dimly [a blurred reflection, a riddle, an enigma], but then [when the time of perfection comes we will see reality] face to face. Now I know in part [just in fragments], but then I will know fully, just as I have been fully known [by God]. 13 And now there remain: faith [abiding trust in God and His promises], hope [confident expectation of eternal salvation], love [unselfish love for others growing out of God’s love for me], these three [the choicest graces]; but the greatest of these is love. 

I Corinthians 13: 12, 13 AMP


Do you have magic soap when you look in your mirror? Hint. Magic soap is the blood of Jesus, shed for us on the cross. “When we confess our sins, He is faithful and righteous to forgive us our sins and to cleanse us of all ‘wrongdoing’”. (1 John 1:5-10 NASB1995 and ‘Message’)


I just handed you a sliver of my magic soap. Open your hands and heart, accept it, and believe it is for you! 

You are deeply loved and wanted by God. 

Nancy








The Author February 7, 2025


My nurse practitioner referred me to a new physical therapy company. After calling for an appointment, I received an email with a link to set up an online account. First screen, pick a username and password. On the second screen, enter your medical history. The third screen was answering why you need PT. On the fourth screen out of five, I entered information about my age, gender, and marital status, then I came to the occupation box with no drop-down choices. 

I started typing ‘retired’ and something rebelled within me. Backspacing with gusto, I typed in ‘retired author’. No, that wasn’t correct. 

Writing and retirement didn’t mesh in my thinking. Why not? I had been semi-retired since age 53 and started thinking about a book in my early 60s. The move to our retirement home was simply a location change—an upgrade from condo living to six and a half acres in a quiet subdivision outside our town. Our Christian community allows us to rub shoulders with people from the cradle to senior saints and offers many opportunities to worship and serve. We are not sitting on our assets, rocking our days away in bliss (although that happens on a lovely warm evening). Activity and involvement, movement and engagement give us a sense of purpose without having a wage-earning job. We love our 'retirement' life.

After I tentatively typed in Author, with a capital A, the short word expanded my soul. I started smiling then felt like crying as scenes from my bookwriting journey flashed through my mind. 

A positive scene of working on the project was the friends who cheered me on, got involved by praying, and read my drafts while offering kind and helpful corrections. I received grace and love from our Christian community that shared real-life joys and sorrows.

The difficulty was the circumstances of our adult children’s lives and our relationships that I wrote about in Missing Pages: A Common Woman’s Search to Find God’s Hope Through Fractured Relationships. The subtitle is important as I wrote more about my search for God’s hope upon reflection on their difficult years. 

I wrote under a pseudonym to protect our children’s privacy. At their request, I gave every person mentioned a pseudonym and altered some circumstances. I warned them they might be upset to see their adult missteps in print and how those moments affected our family. They said they would be okay. But they weren’t. Now they are, somewhat. 


After the relief of publishing and the first blush of being a new author, I swore I would never write another full-length book. A year later, I felt a nudge to pursue a second book, Filling In the Blanks: Getting Unstuck From a Life Unwanted. That ‘never-do-that-again’ vow changed when I recently returned to Leslie Leyland Field’s online writing community. She instructs excellent memoir writing. I credit her book, Your Story Matters, with turning my boring travel log of events and memories into an engaging story of finding God’s hope through turmoil.

This new project seems less daunting because I know the ups and downs. Like pregnancy, I’ve been through this before and know the roadmap, which may have detours or potholes, but the process is similar. I foresee it will be a shorter labor and delivery, blessedly. Confidence and assurance mark my writing now. I am not the same person that I was when I started writing our story.


After all that, I am reluctant to tell people I am a published author and working on my second book. Only another author can appreciate our delicate psyches. I am already a sensitive soul easily lifted or affronted by the opinions of others. An author needs bravery, steel in your creative spine plus hours and hours of ‘butt in the seat’ writing time. Whether you write fiction, non-fiction, history, memoir, essay, fantasy, etc., after you publish, your darling is out in the ether for public criticism or accolades. An author carries a story close to their heart and soul for months, like a pregnancy. When our story babies are ready for a life of their own, we painfully give birth to them and let go. 


In a memoir, your story is out there for all and sundry; your efforts, indecisiveness, motivation and laziness. No hiding behind a fictional character that may or may not be a shadow of your personality. Your joys, lows, pleasing and difficult times are exposed for your readers to interpret. My dreams after publications were full of autographing my books for my adoring audience only to see the look of embarrassment and horror as they, and I realized I was naked, not a stitch on. Has anyone had one of those nightmares?


Being an author is an occupation that allows me to explore the world, my inner and outer world, the whys, why nots and everything in between. I am unapologetically an author. And it is keeping me humble as I write with compassion and truth about the Christian life of a Jesus-follower. 


I am proud to write Author as my occupation.


Nancy

Photo by David Iskander on Unsplash 




How Did I Get Here?

January 23, 2025

I am a couple of chapters into reading a book titled, Soul Care by Debra Fileta. I read through a list of signals for burnout. At the end of the list, I don’t have one box checked which puzzles me. 

This may be because I am a chill personality, but that’s a lie. Ask my spouse. 

Could it be because I am over 70 years old and have learned a thing or two about myself and life? Somewhat.

Or is it the total and complete grace and healing of God through Jesus? Absolutely!


My next thought is, “How did I get to a place of increased confidence and trust in God from a place of being so stuck in unhealthy thinking and behaviors, hidden behind a ‘nice Christian lady’ facade?”  

When I was in my 40s and early 50s, I could have checked off many of Debra’s signal boxes, like:


Do any of these burnout signals describe you today? I was a mess emotionally and spiritually which played out in my physical body. Super busy, super involved and super exhausted. I routinely ate an entree of control issues with sides of insecurity, pride and hypocrisy. 

Do you, like me, need the oomph of the Spirit to move you closer to freedom from self-defeating thoughts and habits?


The theme of Filling In the Blanks: Getting Unstuck From a Life Unwanted encompasses Jesus’s last week on earth. He taught powerful principles to live by as He promised the infilling of His Spirit after He left this Earth. The love He showed to His disciples and the world has the power to fill in our blanks. You can get unstuck from an unwanted life and receive the life of Jesus empowered by the Spirit. 


If you are not a believer in Jesus Christ, read His story and words; and my story of discovery and faith. As you read, your blanks may begin to be filled, along with eyes to see a path forward to freedom. “So if the Son makes you free, you will be free indeed.” John 8:36 (NASB1995) 


A prayer for us —-

Father God, You created us to live an unstuck life - freedom from fear, shame and anxiety; a life transformed by the power of the Holy Spirit. As we read about Jesus last week, reveal Yourself to us, so that we pursue a life of purpose and passion.  Amen!

Nancy

 

Filling In the Blanks

Getting Unstuck From a Life Unwanted

January 3, 2025

I was physically challenged by the pace and demands of my hectic summer state park job. Off-season at the park was slow with few visitors and reduced office hours. Late Autumn along the western shore of Lake Michigan produced an array of colors until the trees began shedding their once vibrant red, gold and orange leaves. I could breathe, slow down, and drink deeply of God’s beautiful nature and reflect on His faithfulness throughout the changing seasons. 

Dressed for the cooler weather, I walked from the visitor center to the maintenance shed and unlocked the door. The beast was waiting for me to do the morning checkout before I opened the visitor center. If the beat-up diesel Ford got 10 MPG, it was a good day.  I put on a blaze orange vest hanging on the shed kitchen hooks even though deer or turkey hunting was weeks away. Hoisting myself in the truck cab, I fired the beast up and set off.

My first task was to check the vault toilets and replace toilet paper, sweep out the trash, and sanitize the vault toilet. Summer maintenance workers put up with the stink of the hot concrete cubes. The smell was manageable during cooler weather.

 

On weekends I wasn’t scheduled, I went to church. My friend commented on the disconnect between my church lady-like appearance, and cleaning park vault toilets, and driving a beast of a diesel truck. 

“I can’t see you climbing in and out of that big truck, Nancy.” stated my friend, Jean. “You don’t seem the type that would want to get her hands dirty or tramp around in the woods.”

“I love the outdoor work and feel close to God in His amazing nature and watching the constant action of the waves offshore.”

Jean looked puzzled and shook her head as if to clear the image of me in the outdoors. “Still, the contrast of you in your Sunday best leading worship on the piano and singing doesn’t mesh with your park job.” 

We left it at that but her comments followed me, like a cloud labeled incongruent identity. Who am I? What defined me, what motivated me? 

I stuffed negative emotions. In my 40s, I was physically and emotionally sick. I was playing roles on the outside; but inside, my soul was chaotic with gobs of self-hatred and anger. Through the last several decades, I experienced the healing love of my heavenly Father and the power of the Holy Spirit. He unstuck me, and walks beside me, and lives in me.


Please bookmark this page to follow future chapters and news of progress as I write Filling In the Blanks: Getting Unstuck From a Life Unwanted. 

Thanks and God bless!

Nancy