SMITCHing

Thanks for visiting. :-)

The following is a letter I wrote for our church’s Mother’s Day bulletin. The person I had in mind when I wrote it was my mom, Shirley, who I love very much. Enjoy, mom. Dear Mom, Thank you. Thank you that I don’t have a broken neck, and that my eye hasn’t been poked out by a popsicle stick. Thank you for being right just because you said so. Thank you for all the late night prayers that I never knew about. Thank you that my breakfast was still ready and waiting for me after those sleepless nights of prayer. Thank you for the protection of those prayers. I was never run over by a truck, but even if I had been, they would have seen at the hospital that my underwear was clean. You saw to that too. Thank you for letting me grow up, to get bruised a little along the way no matter how much that hurt you. Thank you for getting so much “smarter” as I got older. Thank you for the good food, warm bed, and clean clothes that I took for granted. Thank you for not handing me a bill and showing me ...

I've been asked three times in as many weeks if I've ever thought of taking up writing. Yesssssss! But not without the following question coming hard on the heels of my answer, "How?" I don't find writing hard. I find finding the story hard. For much of my adult life I've written for others as part of designing ads, brochures, Web sites...whatever. The content always originates with someone else, and it is my job to connect their audience in a powerful, relevant, and memorable way with their content. Apart from this blog and a few stories I made up for my kids, I've written very little that comes straight out of me. I'm not sure what's in there, but I am sure that I'd like to find out. It seems important somehow for me to see what might come to light if I start rummaging around in there a bit. On the downside: I can't touch type, which I'm sure would get me lynched by a bunch of snooty Portland writers if I tried to join their ranks an...