MANUSCRIPTS: Melrose Miracle

Remember last Saturday when I was soooo emotional about The Finding of the Manscripts?

LOL.

I'll attempt to explain why.

A number of years ago, I was a full-time writer. Just saying that makes me still cringe a bit. But not nearly as much as I used to cringe when someone would refer to me as a "writer" or "author," although both were true.

For close to 8 years I devoted the majority of my days to my craft, my passion, my calling. I wrote. Four of my completed manuscripts made it to publication. The first two will forever be special just simply because a small secular publishing house took a chance on a newbie.


If I had the opportunity to revise these two titles today, I would know so much more about character development, plot twists, about being one with your characters.

Still, by God's grace and mercy, These Things We Hold and For Such a Time as This found their publishing home. A few years later, Waking Emma and Saving Grace also found a publishing home. Mind you, this all took place years ago; before I went back to college for my teaching certification, before we moved to rural Northeast Texas, before my teaching career, and definitely before we opened the B&B!

Over the years since, I've often all but forgotten about those days. Days when I would plop in front of my computer after the boys left for their day at school. Days when I would become so involved in my characters' lives that I would have a difficult time transitioning back to my "real world" at the end of the day in order to make dinner, keep house, be a "present" wife and mom, and raise a family.

Once I began school, and then teaching, I all but gave up writing. The occasional blog post was about as far as I ventured into the writing arena in those days. By this time, I had grown somewhat frustrated with the industry and the difficult journey it is to "break into" mainstream publishing. I - by then - had several more manuscripts completed, as well as book proposals that I was insanely excited about - but I was no longer confident that writing was a calling; maybe it was just my hobby.

It seemed that writing had become WORK and much of my previous joy was robbed by the rejection letters, the return of my beloved Melrose Miracle by my equally beloved AGENT (yessss, I actually was under contract with an agent!:), and by the rigorous guidelines and stipulations required to succeed in a very up and coming and competitive industry - that of Christian fiction.

I remember the day I packed up the binders, saved all the manuscripts and proposals to a flash drive, and then stored them all. I truly felt that this "season" of my life was behind me. I knew I wanted to hang onto all of the things from this time period, but I was not a good steward of keeping up with where they were. This was particularly true after several moves, until we settled on the 50 acres of land that we now call the B&B.

Then, a number of months ago, that sleeping giant awoke inside of me and - y'all - I. CAN'T. STOP. WRITING. It's joyful again, healing, even, and I write with abandon, not giving one single thought to trying to become published again. I'm writing for me, to deliver myself of the many stories bottled up inside of me, begging to find their home in word form.

When I switched from teaching English to Culinary this school year, and realized that my Advanced Culinary was made up of all females, Melrose Miracle came to mind. The story of Ella and Luke, a nation-wide Cooking Channel contest - "Restaurant 101" - and a 2nd chance at love and laughter, the perfect combination to share with my culinary ladies.

Except I could not find the binder holding the hard copy. I could not find the flash drive. I couldn't find it online anywhere - even though I had posted it one chapter at a time on an old blog back some years ago. The thought of it BEING GONE was devastating to me.

Days became weeks and weeks became months and still no manuscript.

When I had all but given up, my precious, sweet, unbelievably supportive husband (no matter what kind of shenanigans I find myself in, he never fails to have my back:) spent time searching the very, very back of a very, very packed storage room in the barn...and he found Ella and Luke!!!  (All the praise hands here!)

This binder with this old manuscript of mine now resides in my classroom. I'm not sure when I'll share it with the girls - maybe as a part of their graduation gift...

In the meantime, I'm having the best time reading the novel (my novel!) and even though it never found its home, I can't help but believe that this was all a part of a bigger plan. A plan much bigger, and most likely better, than I could have created or dreamed on my own.

I'm so thankful - so grateful - for so very much these days.

I'm excited for what is happening in my heart as I spend my evenings tucked into my chair in front of my laptop. Just because it feels like home again. 

Much like Ella experienced:

She'd entered this contest on a dare, never in a million years thinking she'd be chosen as a finalist. Then she'd traveled to LA in pursuit of a distant dream, an opportunity to carve out a delicious future for her and Chloe.

But she'd discovered so much more.

Luke Abney had claimed her heart with a gentleness that left Ella breathless. His warmth and tenderness reached inside her to a place Ella thought had withered away when Stephen died. In a short span of time, Luke had taught her two valuable things.

 How to trust her heart again.

And how to trust God again. (Wilder, Melrose Miracle)

Trusting Him with all of my heart, for all of my tomorrows...

The Giving Box

 "We make a living by what we get, but we make a life by what we give."

---Winston Churchill

Every Christmas since they were old enough to understand, Amy & Paul have taken our grands - Carter & Kendall - to serve Meals on Wheels on Christmas Day. Of all the many, many things I love, appreciate, and admire about our grown children, perhaps the biggest of these is that they live life on purpose.

Somehow they have realized (at a much younger age than we did) that a life well lived is a life where you are aware; aware of your blessings, but also aware of the lack of food, lack of health, lack of money, and lack of family that so many around us experience.

Living a life OF purpose is wonderful and great, and I think it's something that most "thinking" people do. We want to know that we are making a difference in this world, and not just existing. We want our lives to impact someone and - when all is said and done - we want to know that our life meant something. That we are leaving an imprint of our heart and efforts behind. 

But living life ON purpose, I believe, takes it a step further. I don't know that we "think" about this nearly as much as it is just a part of who some people are. They have a way of keeping "the main thing" THE main thing. They are present in their life and show up for all the right moments. Busyness, obligations, and appointments still dot their daily lives, but never seem to outshine or overpower what they believe to be the most important: taking care of those who aren't necessarily able to care for themselves. 

Over the past few weeks of partnering with ndulge, I've seen firsthand how easy they make it for most any of us to begin to change our perspective from JUST living a life of purpose to living life ON purpose. A company founded by a group of sisters, ndulge seeks to not only provide quality athleisure wear, beauty and wellness products, and accessories (that we are all going to buy anyway), but they stand behind their words and give back 33% to a variety of causes that each involve helping people not as fortunate as they are.

If you want to hear an inspirational story, then you need to read Kennedy's story. Just as Paul and Amy started our grands out early, so did the parents of these girls. So much so, that as they grew and again and again witnessed first hand the power of giving, they sought out ways to make it a permanent part of their daily lives. 

They decided to live life ON purpose. 

One of the products I am most excited about is The Giving Box. Much like the now-popular "box of the month" clubs (except this is a one-time purchase that you can repeat as often as you'd like), you receive a box of ndulge products (worth well over $100) that you will not only LOVE and wear all the time, but the money from the box will go directly to impact and affect the lives of at least two people. 

You may be thinking, two people, well, that doesn't sound very impactful. But it's a movement, a deliberate step after step after step approach to changing lives in very specific ways. I'm excited - and honored - to be a part of this company and to be able to share some good in a world so desperately in need of true folks to be the "hands & feet" of Jesus during a time when it is all too easy to get caught up - and remain caught up - in the hecticness, the hurry, the frenzy that is LIFE. 

As I announced on IG and Facebook this morning, I have a few giveaways that I want to send out this week! Leave a comment here on the blog, sharing a favorite quote, or maybe an inspirational GIF or meme...something that is in keeping with Winston Churchill's words: "We make a living by what we get, but we make a life by what we give," and you will be entered into a random drawing for the AMAZING Hearts for Giving bracelets, made with love and very little money by the women who give of their time, energy, and resources to aid the Prerana Orphanage of Love in Nepal.

Tonight - at 8:00pm Central time - I will draw names for these giveaways, and then send some of this happiness that I have discovered your way! Comment away on social media, but - remember - the names for the drawing will come from the comments left here on this post!

Until this evening...

Blessings, 

Staci

When NO is what gets you there.

Whether it has something to do with the "first child" syndrome, or whether I am just a pleaser by nature, saying NO does not come easy for me. In fact, up until recently, I would find 100 other ways to attempt to say no (to a project, to an obligation, to an event, to a person) but I quickly discovered that some people don't "hear" those other ways.

They have to hear, "No," to know it means NO.

Saying that one simple little word shouldn't be so difficult. But for many people - including me - it brings on such a sense of guilt; as though I am letting someone or something down.

I wish I would have realized a long time ago that I don't have that kind of power. :) People's happiness and satisfaction in this life isn't directly proportional to me being at their beck and call, no matter how it appears in the moment.

"You can't have a yes without a no." (Niequist) We all have limitations on our time, our energy, and our resources. Saying "yes" too often to things that don't inspire us, motivate us, or bring about any kind of self-respect or self-gratitude only means that we are simultaneously saying "no" to some things that do inspire us, do motivate us, and do provide us with a sense of self-respect.

I've come to realize over the latter portion of 2018 that I've said "no" too many times, but to the wrong people, the wrong things. I've passed on weekends with family to work an event or fulfill a sponsorship. I've lost sleep and just plain 'ol rest to show up when I'd rather stay home, to make someone's job easier while making mine more difficult.

As I went from a young mom, to a working mom, then to a single mom, then to a blended family mom, then a "going back to college mom," and finally - a full-time career mom, I gradually became accustomed to saying yes to all the things.

I imagine, at first, this was because I felt that I somehow lacked something, something that I needed to compensate for. Maybe I felt "less than" because of the struggle to provide for two little boys in an average paying job. Maybe I felt that since I could no longer be THE room mother, that I should instead make all of the things. The cupcakes. The schedules. The goody bags.

I remember coming home from one work trip a day early. I didn't tell anyone about the change of schedule except for Mike. I came straight home from the airport, changed into sweats and a tshirt, climbed into bed, and simply requested that I be excused from the phone, from interaction with people, from even the things that should have brought me the most fulfillment.

I just wanted to lay in bed.

It wasn't depression, or even despondency. It wasn't just a matter of being physically, mentally, or even emotionally tired. I was just tapped out. Out of reserves. Out of anything to give for the moment.

In hindsight, that should have been my turning point, but - of course - it wasn't. I was still young - in my early 30s - and felt that things might literally crumble if I wasn't hands on 24/7 in everything I was expected to do. Everything I was asked to do. Everything I thought I should do. 

I was working so hard, moving so fast, taking on so much that I hadn't even realized I was losing out on the things that really mattered. The moments. Those brief pockets of time when memories are made.

I suppose I thought it would all lead me to where I eventually wanted to be - at my destination. Where I was meant to be. Equipped with what I needed to be successful in life. What I didn't realize was that I was robbing not only myself, but those I loved most, of the best of me.

Not everyone will be thrilled about your decision to suddenly be protective of your time, your talent, and your energy. It may "inconvenience" some people who've become reliant on you - quite simply put - just being there for them. 

Hear this: those are NOT YOUR PEOPLE.

The folks who truly love you, treasure you even, want your happiness. They want you to have a peaceful, fulfilling life, and they trust you to make the decisions that ensure that is what happens. These people are not threatened by your absence, their feelings are not hurt by your saying 'no.' They will respect your decisions. They will respect your needs.

They will respect YOU.

If we listen, we all have that inner voice that guides our way. For many of us, this is certainly through prayer, and it is also through using what God gave us: the ability to listen to our bodies, and to respectfully care for this one vessel He's given us to live in. After all, it has to take us to the finish line.

We own a B&B!

Interior of The Boho House, taken by a guest turned friend!

To be an enthusiastic Bed & Breakfast owner, I sure don't blog much about it, do I?!? :) I'm going to attempt to do better.

The reason for the lack of B&B content is probably because I value our guests, and their time with us, so very much that I never want any of them to think we are taking advantage of their experiences here by writing about them. But the reality is that there is so much goodness that we reap from the people who choose to trust our little rural B&B for their getaway!

We have former guests that have become friends we'll have for life. People like Opie & Mary Cyrus. Denise Craig. Cory & Jessica Gonzalez. Daniel & Savanna Tuesburg. The list goes on and on.

When we first opened The Cabin and established ourselves as business entity, we had no earthly idea that one of the very best rewards of being inn keepers was the folks you'd meet and come to love. There's a connection you make when staying at a bed & breakfast that you don't usually get at hotel stays. (Not that I don't love a good hotel stay from time to time!!)

We do our best to follow our guests' lead and engage in conversation when they desire it, but also grant them as much privacy as they might want as well. What tends to happen is that an authentic relationship begins to take root and - whether they become repeat customers or just guests that opt to "stay in touch," our lives are made so much richer due to the people who trust Wildernest with their stay.

Of course, as I'm sure ANY B&B owner can laughingly attest to, we also have some STORIES! LOL. Things that will never make the blog! We have seen just about everything. Heard just about everything. Found just about everything!

If you are new to B&B stays, or are just interested in a really great article about them, this read provides great info, as well as the names of "quirky" or niche B&Bs that offer some...um...amenities...that you won't find here.

But if it's a warm and comfortable stay, in the cutest cabins in the woods, with a one-of-a-kind breakfast crate delivered to your front porch each morning, please give us a try! We love what we do, we genuinely care about our guests' stays, and we absolutely love it when a guest becomes a friend.

A nostalgic look back at our 2018 weddings at the venue!

Oh. my. gracious, y'all.

I knew we had a dozen gorgeous and completely unique weddings here at The Hitchin' Post this past calendar year. I attended several of them, and helped out with a majority.

Yet it wasn't until I sat down and began to put together this video that I realized JUST what a banner year it really was! I have to say, I teared up once I'd completed it and then watched it from beginning to end the first time.

So. Many. Memories.

Beautiful, heart-warming, once-in-a-lifetime memories. And to think that Mike and I were privileged enough to have a front row seat (figuratively speaking) at these unions is humbling. We are so thankful to our brides and grooms for trusting us with their BEST. DAY. EVER!

Enjoy the video!

Transplanted gal.

"Some of us think holding on makes us strong but sometimes it is letting go." - Hermann Hess

I'm a bit of a control freak. For those of you who know me well, I know what you are thinking. What an understatement! I like to know where I'm going. I enjoy knowing where my things are. I'm comforted by the familiar. I'm energized by routine.

A few years back, all of the nuances that make up who I am kind of went on a flying leap out the nearest window. We moved from a lively, happening suburban neighborhood in DFW to a sleepy, laid-back town in rural Northeast Texas.

In short, I became a transplanted gal.

I believe in seasons of life, and I had no doubt that this was the season for change. It was a time of letting go of what felt familiar, and - instead - dive headfirst into this new direction. I have no regrets.

Little did I know then that this was just the beginning...

"It takes a lot of courage to release the familiar and seemingly secure, to embrace the new. But there is no real security in the adventurous and exciting, for in movement there is life, and in change there is power." - Alan Cohen

Ah, how this quote spoke to me this morning. Preached to me, is more like it.

I - like most women - value security. There's comfort in the familiar, reassurance in the mundane. We know what to expect, and pretty much when to expect it. While this life runs the risk of skating dangerously close to BORING, I have to say that I prefer this ride over the wildly unpredictable roller coaster of the UNKNOWN.

But sometimes the normal - the FAMILIAR - can breed mediocrity and we begin to give less than our very best. When we finally get brave enough to truly face the situation with clarity we can then - and only then - summon the courage to venture into the newer, unfamiliar waters. It is only there that we can meet newer, more mature challenges. And, really, it's the challenges that promote personal growth. And personal growth is what we all need, isn't it? Once in those waters...I agonize.

I might weep. Grieve, even. My spirit and my soul lay claim to my every thought and action. I don't want to make a change. Even so, life is all about change. In no way at all do I want to miss out on what God has for me for fear of the unknown. With hesitancy, I feel myself being drawn to the deep.

I allow the waters to suck me into their uncertain depths.

I may retreat for a while. Retreat from all the noise, all the distractions, all the pulls of the world around me. I might share with no one the conflicting and warring emotions tugging for proprietorship in my soul. I enclose myself in the only place I know will bring healing and hope for my bruised spirit.

And then I pray.

You know the kind of prayers I'm talking about. The ones that seem to claw their way from the innermost parts of your being. The ones where words elude you, fail you, yet you pray on, your spirit interceding for the human being that you are. But it's only in those moments of uncertainty, of brand-spanking newness that you somehow sense that in your trevail you are giving birth to something new.

So I surrender.

Once in the murky, uncertain waters of what I once perceived as scary territory, I discover treasures. Pieces of beauty that I would never have seen otherwise. My eyes adjust to the dimness of the situation and I become quiet. Be still, and know that I am God. Verses from the Bible become my food. Lyrics from songs become a healing balm for my soul. Worship - although often wordless - brings a quenching to my thirst.

After a while, I realize I no longer flail at the water surrounding me. No longer struggle against the lessons these depths are trying to teach me. Acceptance, slow yet persistent, begin to inch their way into my consciousness. And then the AMAZING...

...the healing of soul and spirit comes to me.

I break the surface again, and breathe in great gulps of fresh peace. I'd gone under in a black-and-white world, but now the colors around me bloom with vibrancy and brilliance and techni-color supremacy. The scales are gone from my eyes, the pain gone from my heart, and doubt gone from my spirit.

I am different. Yet the same. I've released the familiar. Yet I'm more comfortable than ever before. I stand still and know. I have moved into the deeper waters. I have security that cannot fail.

The changes have come closer together these past few years, and especially these past few months. I've noticed less pause in my spirit and more excitement in my step. Maybe this means I'm trusting the process more; maybe it means I've gleaned some much needed wisdom finally.

I've started referring to each new phase as "walking it out..."

It's a faith walk.  Always.

I am no closer to knowing my future. And yet my future feels solid.

Some dreams may come true. I may have to bid good-bye to still others. There will no doubt be days that appear cloudy and uncertain. There will be days when the familiar once again blankets me, lulling me into a complacent existence that feels wonderful, but has the potential to stagnate the growth that I crave. And then it will be time for my focus to change again.

All that I am, all that I hope to be, is in HIM.

That's it for me. Nothing else matters. There's comfort in that. It's familiar. Yet it's ever-changing, pulling at me, tugging on my heart's door - begging me to come deeper still.

And so I will. I'm letting go and moving willingly into the deeper waters.

And in that movement I'll know power.

And in that power, I'll know LOVE.
And love brings LIFE.
And LIFE is all we have here so why not embrace it with all we have?

The "lost" manuscripts.

"There is no greater agony than bearing an untold story inside you." 

        -Maya Angelou

This morning has been an emotional time for me. Up early to give a venue tour, and then ready a couple of the cabins for weekend guests, I was completely focused on the business, and on finishing up the duties so that I could head back to the house. Our oldest son, Nate, and his wife, Sarah, are visiting this weekend, and we have a full day and evening planned with them. 

But as I said good-bye to the prospective bride and the group of ladies with her, I saw Mike (who was in the barn) waving me over to him. As I drew closer, I glimpsed a large cardboard box sitting on top of his 6-wheeler and my heart sped up a bit.

Could it be...?

"Did you find them?" Even as I asked the question, I saw the happy gleam in his eyes and knew that he had, in fact, found THEM.

My "lost" manuscripts. 

He opened the box and I stared down at binder after binder after binder, filled with my words, stories that I had poured out onto paper so many years ago. Through all of our moves and our transitions (and my transplantations:) I had put my writing in my past, boxed away. 

I remember the day I boxed all of the binders. I truly thought my writing career was behind me, that it had been but a "season," although one of the more impacting ones of my life. For five years, while the boys were in high school and beginning college, I was fortunate enough to work from home and I wrote every. single. day. 

Four of my novels made it to the publishing stage, and still several more lay complete, without a permanent home, inside of binders, where I had carefully printed out each story as I reached the end and...then put it away.

For a number of weeks now, I have been searching for these manuscripts. Mike and I have each spent more than a couple of late, late nights, searching closets, combing through all of our old computer files...looking for any sign that those days spent at the computer still existed somewhere.

In future blog posts, I'll talk more about a couple of them and why it is so important to me RIGHT NOW to find them. But - for today - I will just share that my dear, sweet husband found them. After I sat in the office and opened binder after binder, I became overwhelmed - with gratitude, with love, with hope, and with excitement...

I walked into the kitchen, where he was cooking breakfast for us and the kids and - even though Nate and Sarah sat in the living room just feet away from us, I stood at the stove and wrapped my arms tight around his waist. He held me close as I buried my head in his chest, helpless to stop the flow of tears as they ran hot down my face. 

"Thank you," I was barely able to get the words out in between gulps.

"Mom," Sarah's voice held concern. "Are you okay?"

I am way, way more than just okay. I feel like a piece of my heart - no, my soul, has been returned to me. I am looking forward to the days ahead, and what they hold. For me, for my characters, for our family...

...for this new season that I feel blowing in my direction, ever so gently...