But I do have a stack of essays to grade. And I do have two non-stop weeks of events to get through. And I do have a choice. I can moan and whine my way through these last 11 days and twenty-nine minutes of school, or I can finish well.

Most of what’s in me wants to choose the whiny route. It’s so much easier. I can easily gripe my way through the end of school. Why not? Everybody else is doing it.

But that will only make me — and everyone around me — miserable. My husband and my kids will have to live with “Cranky Krista”, my students with “Moaning McGee.” It won’t be pretty. And then, once the thrill of the summer wears off, I’ll be sitting home in my pj’s thinking, “I really shouldn’t have been so awful those last couple weeks.”

So I what I need to do is finish well. To tackle those essays with as much energy as I had at the beginning of the school year. To come to these events ready to celebrate, to smile, to laugh and cry. I need to fight this urge to give up, to get lazy, to be negative. Rather than desperately wishing I was home, I should be desperate to make these last 11 days the best — the best days for my students, my co-workers, the best days for my kids. I want to be sitting home, a month from now, in my pj’s, thinking, “That was a good year. A great last couple weeks.” No regrets, no “I should have’s.”

I choose to finish well. I know I can’t do that without God’s help. But “with God, all things are possible”!

I read A LOT. Sometimes as much as a book a day, but almost always at least a book a week. Before I became a writer, I read a wide variety of works: mysteries, historical fiction, chick-lit, young adult, science fiction, classics. I also read non-fiction, mostly Christian works about being a mom, a wife, about theology and doctrine and Christian living. I love biographies, too. And histories. Really, just about everything.

Now, I find myself reading a whole lot of young adult fiction. Because I am writing in that genre, I want to learn from others and see what they’re doing. I also want to make sure I’m not doing exactly what some other writer is doing. I want to be current and fresh and original. Sometimes, I have to check myself because I read other books and think, “This is SO much better than my stuff!” But that, as I heard a singer say once, is just “an opportunity to grow in humility.” So I ask God to help me appreciate other writers’ talents rather than being jealous of it. I also read books about writing so that I can grow in this craft, become more like those writers I respect so much.

I read a writer’s blog once and she said she read everything — even cereal boxes and bumper stickers. I TOTALLY related. And the more writers I get to know, the more I see that is a common thread.

Does that mean every reader is a writer? Not necessarily. I know plenty of readers who have no desire to write. But if you’re reading this and do want to write, then keep doing what you’re doing…read, read, read!

I’m always looking for new books to read, so feel free to share your favs with me!

But why do we pray? Why should we pray? And does it really make a difference?

Books have been written on this. But not here. I will give you some of my thoughts, though:

• Prayer is mentioned around 400 times in the Bible. 400. Theologians have debates and conferences and councils on words that are only in there two or three times. Sometimes over words that aren’t even in there at all. 400 is like God using all caps in an e-mail, yelling at us to LISTEN UP, GUYS! THIS IS IMPORTANT.
• Prayer is a gift, a privilege. The Creator of the Universe wants to listen to us. I can’t even begin to wrap my brain around that. God wants to listen to me? And I blow him off so I can sleep a little later? Really?
• Prayer gives me strength and focus and peace. I can’t tell you how many times I have sat down to pray in the mornings, frustrated or discouraged or just not caring about anything. But when I get up, I am renewed, filled with a “peace that passes all understanding.” No, there’s nothing magical about the act of prayer. But there is joy in acknowledging that someone far greater than I am is in control. There is freedom in surrendering my struggles to Him.
• Prayer allows us to see God work. My mother-in-law challenged me to pray specifically when I was pregnant with my first child. Until then, my prayers were mostly generic, “God bless (fill-in-the-blank)” kind of prayers. How can you ever tell if that prayer is answered? Now, I could fill a book with stories about how God answered specific, sometimes seemingly silly, sometimes impossible prayers that only He could accomplish.
• Prayer is far more than just asking for what we or others need. In prayer, we praise God, we worship God. Sometimes, I just sit silently. Other times, I think about a verse or a Psalm that talks about who God is, how Great He is, how worthy He is of our praise. In prayer, we humble ourselves before God, reminding ourselves of who He is and whose we are.

There’s so much more that could – and should — be said on this topic. But the bottom line is — don’t just read about prayer. Do it! “Pray without ceasing” means that there is never a wrong time to pray. So go ahead! What are you waiting for?

Not me. Maybe someday. When I dream about writing spaces, I dream in Ikea. My perfect space looks something like this:

For now, though, my reality is this:

 I have the corner of my bedroom, a workspace I share with my husband. He is working on his doctorate, so he writes almost as much as do. It’s a cozy little space. I am surrounded by books – just like in my dream. And, yes, I sit on a ball. Believe it or not, it’s actually WAY more comfortable than a chair. And it takes up less space. And my son uses it to launch himself onto my bed when I’m not using it. (warning: one of his friends broke his arm on a failed launch, so beware!)

I wrote most of First Date at my local library. Much of Starring Me was written at my desk at school during my free periods. Right Where I Belong (out in December 2012) was finished at Panera, between sips of hazelnut coffee. Actually, most of my manuscripts were completed between sips of some kind of coffee.

I don’t need absolute silence, but I do prefer quiet. And I like big chunks of time — sitting for 5-6 hours straight is much more beneficial than grabbing an hour or two here and there (though there are times when I have to grab what I can when I can).

Someday I’ll have my dream room. But for now, I am thankful to have my dream — being able to sit on my ball and write the stories that God gives me to amazing readers like you. In between sips of coffee.

Life is good!

That’s what I just heard in our sweet little Christian school lunchroom, from one of our sweet little Christian school first graders. Not, “May I have some ketchup, please?” Not even an “excuse me.” Just a condimentary demand, treating our hard-working and incredibly gracious cafeteria staff like a Smart phone – speak your desire and get what you want.

This annoys me. And it happens all the time. I was at my children’s baseball games recently and watched a kid – who wasn’t even on the team – walk up to the mom who brought snacks and say, “I want one! I want one! I want one!”

I understand that our world is changing, that life in the 21st century is going to be different from life in the 20th century. I am okay with that. But I am not okay with good manners becoming obsolete. I am not okay with allowing children to make demands of adults – and having adults give into those demands.

And it’s not just because it’s “polite.” Although it is. Using good manners shows respect. That little girl who demanded ketchup demonstrated self-centeredness in the extreme. She wanted ketchup. She expected ketchup. She was a little put out because the ketchup wasn’t right there on the counter for her to take right away. She had to wait an extra 30 seconds. Did she consider the woman behind the counter was doing several jobs? She is cooking the food, placing it in the containers, keeping everything clean, and on top of that, keeping the plasticware and condiment basket full. Imagine what a difference a polite request would have made. And imagine a polite request followed by *gasp* a “thank you”?

But that didn’t happen. The girl demanded the ketchup, got it, and walked off. The end.

I am feeling guilty as I type this because I am thinking of times I am at McDonalds or Olive Garden or Wal-Mart, and I do the same thing. “I need more Diet Coke.” “Where’s the sweetener?” “Check, please.”

I am glad I heard that little girl today because I see other people’s rudeness far easier than I see my own. I may not be able to stop that child from being rude, but I can stop myself. I can make a point to thank those around me, to be patient when I don’t have exactly what I need exactly when I need it. I can gently remind my own students and my children to focus on being appreciative rather than being demanding.

Let’s not allow manners to go the way of cassette tapes and phones with cords. Please.

And thank you.

In a whole season of soccer, the only goal I made was for the other team (I wondered why no one was trying to stop me!). In a whole season of softball, I never made a hit. Once, I tipped the ball and it went backwards. But that was it. In PE, I was always the last kid picked for kickball. Even now, I rarely join in a pick-up game of anything. Not because I don’t enjoy it. I actually find some sports enjoyable. But people who like winning get annoyed at me. Because I make goals for the other team and hit softballs backwards. So I just sit out and cheer for those who can actually play those games.

I’m also terrible at art. And decorating. And cooking. And organizing. And math.

But you know what? That’s okay. I don’t have to be great at everything.

And neither do you.

In fact, I think it’s a good thing that we stink at some stuff. Really. It makes us appreciate others’ abilities. It keeps us from getting too “puffed up.” Imagine how arrogant we’d be if we were good at everything. And if everyone were good at everything, there wouldn’t be anyone to sit in the stands or in the audience or in the gallery. We’d all be “doing” with no one “enjoying.”

So embrace your inabilities. Acknowledge them. Joke about them. It’s all right to be bad at things. And, no, you’re not bad at everything. God has given everyone gifts and abilities. It takes some of us longer than others to find ours, but they’re there. I promise.

So shrug off your strike-outs, giggle at your flat notes, wink at your stick people. God has made us with strengths and weaknesses. All of us. Besides, the world would be incredibly boring if everyone only made goals for their own teams

(This is me, circa 1985. Where else but theater can you sing into an old phone on a stool while wearing pj’s and a huge bow??)

I am not a professional. I don’t claim to be the best – or even close. But I love theater – especially musical theater – and I want others to love it, too. I think everyone should be involved a production at least once in their lives.

Why?

I’m so glad you asked

• It builds confidence. If you have had to sing and dance in front of hundreds of people, giving a three-minute speech about your favorite pastime suddenly doesn’t seem so scary.
• It makes you a better audience member. Those of us who have been onstage have much more empathy as audience members. We know that the audience sets the tone – that if we clap and laugh, the performers will do even better.
• It creates unique bonds. Surviving a show with a group of people unites you like nothing else I know. You make memories, have inside jokes; certain smells or sounds or even colors make you laugh hysterically. And your castmates are the only ones who really understand that.
• It teaches you the importance of teamwork. While there may only be one or two “stars,” everyone involved in the production is vital. Just watch what happens when the lighting guy is gone, or the sound guy steps away.
• It forces you to think about others. The cast is only part of the equation in a show. The audience is the other part. They need to be drawn in, to enjoy what’s happening onstage. And it’s your job as the cast and crew to make sure that happens.

I could go on, but you get the idea.

This is “spring musical season” all around the country. Schools, churches, and community theaters are offering beautiful productions filled with folks who have sacrificed hours of their time, talents, and energy. You’ve seen the signs in the libraries and the Starbucks, on the marquis and maybe even in a flyer under your windshield. Go! Enjoy one of these shows. Clap and laugh and help those performers do a great job.

And then, if you’re really brave, look in those playbills for opportunities to be involved in a production yourself, even if it is behind the scenes. Paint a set, sew a costume, shop for props. Because….

“There’s no business like show business”!

And because we all do it, we justify it. We allow it. We even joke about it.

But here’s the deal — worry is a sin. There are about a dozen verses with some version of “Do not worry” in them. Here are just a couple:

“So do not  worry about tomorrow; for tomorrow will  care for itself.  Each day has enough trouble of its own. Mt. 6:33

“And which of you by worrying can add a single hour to his  life’s span?” Lk. 12:25

Ultimately, worry reveals a lack of faith. We don’t really believe God is sovereignly in control — of EVERYTHING. If we truly grasped that truth, clung to it, then we could push away our worries, not give them any power over our lives.

So what do we do? Worry that we’re worrying too much?

How about every time we start worrying, we replace that thought with one of those verses? Claim those truths daily, hourly, until the truth replaces the lies. Until we live in the joy of trusting God instead of the bondage of worry.

Why is this a terrible idea? Let me just give you a few reasons. I’m sure you can supply more:

• As Christians, we are to love our enemies. That isn’t the most popular of Jesus’ commands, but it’s there. There is nothing loving about declaring Facebook war on someone. Nothing. And there is absolutely no justification for it.
• We already have MAJOR problems with cyber-bullying. This could take that to the next level. Can you imagine seeing your name on an “enemy” list, with “followers” posting what they don’t like about you? I can’t imagine anything worse.
• People are much more cruel when hidden behind a computer screen. There was a popular website a few years ago (I can’t remember the name) that allowed people to post anonymous comments about an individual. I had some students who were absolutely devastated by that. Teens who would never say terrible things to another teenager’s face had no problem saying horrible things anonymously. And we all know the long-lasting effect of cruel words.
• It is a breeding ground for negativity. Even the most optimistic of us can be sucked into a “I hate (fill-in-the-blank)” tirade. And the more people involved, the angrier we get. The angrier we get, the “worse” the offense becomes. I have seen it happen. I’ve let it happen. And it always ends badly, with people hurt and friendships destroyed.

I don’t deny that there are some people, places and things we just don’t like. But there are better ways to deal with those feelings than to make them your Facebook enemy. Or any kind of enemy.  We can disagree without being disagreeable.

“If possible, so far as it depends on you, be at peace with all men.” Romans 12:18

But what, exactly, is that cross? What does it mean? And is it really important?

I see the cross everywhere – in earrings, on necklaces, in children’s craft projects, even as decorations on flip flops and magnets on cars. None of that is bad, necessarily, but I fear that we are so accustomed to  seeing the cross that we have forgotten what it actually represents, what it means. It has become merely a symbol of our faith. But it is so much more than that.

On Good Friday, Jesus was led to his execution. He was sentenced to a death so horrendous that it was reserved only for non-citizens of the Roman Empire. Not even the worst Roman citizen would have to endure this. And he was sentenced for one reason:

Because he claimed to be God.

He wasn’t killed for being a good person, for being a wise teacher, for hanging out with tax collectors and prostitutes. He was killed because the Jewish leaders of his day found his claims to deity to be blasphemous. They did not believe he was the promised Messiah. And they understood – rightly – that that is exactly who he was saying he was.

But Jesus was the Messiah. He was God in the flesh, come to earth. He lived a sinless life, qualifying him to be the only one who could pay the penalty for our sins.

Sins separate us from God. But God loves us, and he doesn’t want us separated from him. And so he sent his son to die the death that we deserve so we can have eternal life with him.

And that is what Jesus did on the cross. He didn’t just suffer excruciating physical pain, he also bore on his body the sins of the world. I can’t even begin to comprehend that.

And he did that for us. Because he loved us so much.

Today is the day we remember that death, that price that our Savior paid for us – for all who believe on him.

So while cross necklaces and magnets and decorations are highly visible this time of year, I want to be careful that I’m not forgetting what it represents, the magnitude of the work done there. The cross is more than a symbol. Because Jesus chose to go to the cross, you and I  have the opportunity to choose Him, to choose eternity with Christ, to choose a life with Christ here on earth.

If you haven’t made that choice, yet, make it right now. Make this a truly Good Friday.