Speaking again from my living room because I have a lot to say.
I usually say it barefoot these days. I’m honored groups around the country don’t mind my shoeless feet. They don’t book me to talk about my attire. Or my books.
Groups book me to speak because they want to be entertained, educated and inspired, not to meet an author on another book tour.
It’s my fault people ask me when I’m going on another book tour. I haven’t done an effective job of explaining how and why I speak. That’s on me.
So here goes: I don’t do book tours. I do motivational, inspirational speaking that entertains, educates and inspires. I’ve given these talks on three continents to thousands and thousands of souls.
I’m not speaking about me. I want to infect listeners with the virus of gratitude. They leave the room or our Zoom conference determined to make meaningful memories before it’s too late. Or they realize they still have time to go for their dreams and change their lives. Or they understand how the evangelical movement consolidated its power and are equipped with different ways to approach our political mess.
I haven’t done a book tour since 2014. When you book me to speak, you’re booking a dynamic presence, a seasoned performer who also happens to have a few books, not an author on a book tour.
Thank you for coming to my TED Talk.
Dear soul, may you weather any storm.
May you find the gorgeous kiss of wonder amidst driving rain and wind.
When you choose to hike uphill at an unplanned stop, may you find the thundering payoff just over the rise.
May you always have the gear you need to stay dry and warm and springy.
And may you see possibility in ragged edges, gurgling waterfalls, and sheer drops.
May 2021 leave you better than it found you, dear soul. I’m rooting for you.
Throwback to my fourth birthday.
That’s me in a frilly blue dress spangled with too much lace. As if the dress weren’t enough meringue, I’m also wearing itchy lace tights. I can STILL feel their rough scratch against my skin.
But that face. Sigh. It is the personification of stubborn hope. The possibility of dreams. Steadfast belief in imaginary friends cheering beyond the frame. I listened to a record where a bird and a boy toured the world, and I longed to fly. The same face I see when I look in the mirror today. Saggier, perhaps. A bigger nose. But still adventurous and inquisitive, curious and dramatic.
Two decades of evangelical upbringing didn’t squelch who I’ve always been. I spent a lot of time in my cocoon, but I finally emerged. Whole. Complete. I’m still me.
Recent Reads Friday: I’m Traveling Alone by Samuel Bjork
Translated from the runaway hit Norwegian thriller, I read this gripping, icky story in one sitting. Women turn up tortured and murdered. Always single mothers. Always with a chestnut doll attached to their bodies.
As detectives unravel the motives for the killings, they never suspect how close they are to the perpetrator, a psychopath who hides in plain sight.
➡️ I purchase every new book featured with my own funds. I do not offer endorsements in exchange for a feature. My opinions are honest assessments of books I read, enjoy, and believe worthy of your time. Creators cannot create if people fail to support their work with actual money. I am doing my part to support worthy writers in many genres and career stages.
Yes, our Christmas tree is still up, but I’m even more proud of this side reclining leg lift pose.
Another pose I tried while speaking, “I’ll never be able to do this…..OHMYGOD I’M DOING IT RIGHT NOW!”
My leg isn’t perfectly straight, and I’ve got a holiday bulge around my middle. SO WHAT? Beauty lies in the attempt, in reaching for my big toe without believing I can grasp it but trying anyway.
Who knows what we can accomplish by simply trying things we think we cannot do?
This is an idol.
In Protestant evangelical circles, statues of the Virgin Mary are idols because she was not divine. Growing up, Mary was female, a womb to birth God, a footnote to the story of Jesus Christ. She was not worthy of worship. Nobody prayed to her.
The first time I walked into a Catholic Church and saw larger-than-life Mary, I froze mid-aisle. Hearing her exalted by a priest was strange and wild and foreign. I wandered from the incense-scented sanctuary dazed and disoriented.
I’ve since found many versions of Mary. In cathedrals. Roadside shrines. Earthy grottoes.
We don’t really know much about Mary. I’m confident she looked nothing like this. But I always stop and say hi to her image. Sometimes, I snap a picture.
To me, she is a reminder of one woman’s power to change the world.
I admit it. I post this quote for me.
For all the times someone asks me, “You selling any books?” Says, “Everybody’s trying to be an author and speaker. What are you going to do if something happens to MTM?” Sneers, “We don’t pay speakers, but you can speak for exposure.” Rolls eyes, “If you were any good, I would’ve heard of you.” Wonders, “What do you actually DO all day?”
I only need to prove myself to myself. Not to doubters, naysayers, be-litte-ers, and mean speaking negative nellies. And the same goes for you, dear soul. Prove yourself to yourself. Let everyone else go, because they don’t matter. They really, truly don’t.
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We have some rain and wind going on here. Power flickers sometimes. But the day rolls on, as it should.
We’ve been very PNW of late, too.
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