Before I was ever a writer, I was a reader.
But it’s fair to say that being a writer strongly influences how I want to read–and vice versa.
This week, my family and I shoved in the car ski boots and a sled and carefully calculated food to feed a family with three teenagers. In the 2-hour drive through the mountains, cell service dropped abruptly about twenty minutes in. Our friend’s cabin, swaddled in 3 feet of snow, has no internet (brilliant!), no reception, and is primarily heated with a potbelly stove.
The plan originally seemed dicey. My friend with cancer is declining. And after this trip, my husband leaves for two and a half weeks.
Seen this meme? For innocents like me, it’s a little too eerily true to be funny, folks. No laughing!
This is occasionally how I feel about life. So. Many. Things compete for my attention.
I loved sharing with you last week a little snapshot of my life.
Alas, my manuscript is due MONDAY to Zondervan, so my little heart has been written out. Tonight I wanted something calm and pretty and open and blue, like an ocean.
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