Writer's Block feels like standing in the middle of a wood, where a thousand paths diverge all around. You can't see past the initial idea, and if you choose one, you may turn yourself around, and end up down another - the beginning & the end making a strange chimera of ideas. I suppose the point is, I have much to say, but not the words to complete them. Maybe another day. The important thing is that I showed up to the woods today, and entered in.
Category Archives: Encouragement
I have a cat, he's a very sweet cat Henry is his name. He never causes trouble, he never even meows. Just a teeny, tiny "Eh!" is all he ever says. That is, unless he's on his way to the vet, and then the yowling comes deep from his soul, and cuts through my heart. But, this is not about his yowl, this is about his teeny, tiny "Eh!" When caught in an everyday moment of distress. I have another cat, he's a very...different cat Rooney is his name. He was found outdoors, malnourished and alone. We took him in but, he's not used to cats. He doesn't know how to BE a cat. He's learning to play, and even to cuddle, but he just doesn't GET that other cats are his friends. Especially Henry. Henry loves everyone. But Rooney does not love everyone. Nearly every day, Rooney chases Henry, and not in the fun way, and then Rooney gets in trouble. I say his name, and he looks sheepish, "I've done it again." This last time, I was fixing dinner, and I heard that teeny, tiny, "Eh!" and I spun around. Rooney was ready to pounce. I said his name (with LOTS of authority) and he ran off. Henry looked at me, grateful. Then I realized, Henry hadn't shouted, he hadn't yowled, or panicked, he just quietly said, "Eh!" and trusted that I would hear him, and fix the problem. And I did. And then I realized - This applies to me, too. It doesn't take shouting, it doesn't take panic, It just takes trusting that the One who can solve my problems is always, ALWAYS, listening. May we all have the faith of Henry.
The Pain Game
When I'm in pain, the physical kind of pain, the "Sweet Lord Jesus deliver me" kind of pain I like to play a game. It's not really a game, it's just a way to occupy my brain in the depths of that pain. Perspective, if you will. I ask myself, "Would you rather?" as in, "Would you rather be in THIS kind of pain?" and I focus... OR and then I think of a comparable pain I've clearly lived through, and say "Or THAT kind of pain?" and then I remember... And then I decide which pain I prefer. That's the end of the game, but while I'm busy deciding, the pain is subsiding. And that's what I'm thinking of today. (P.S. I'm really okay. I've been having my foot worked on and today was a treatment. The most pain is during treatment. I've lived through it before, and Ibuprofen is a gift from the Lord)
Maybe it's just me... or maybe you've felt it too. When I get an idea, a wonderful, marvelous idea - it is all the cliches. A lightbulb! A spark! A mind worm I simply can't shake. I feel like a genius! a trail blazer! A friend to Einstein & Tesla & Shakespeare all wrapped into one. But then... When I begin to breathe life into this idea, when it becomes more than just a lightbulb! a spark! Suddenly... my company changes to Larry, Curly, and Moe. I'm a buffoon! an imposter! and surely, someone else can do this better than dumb, unimaginative me. But... This idea! This spark! This mind worm that simply won't shake, wasn't given to just anyone... It was gifted to me, or to you, Yes, you...with your very own wonderful, marvelous idea. And so, What I would like to say, to both you, and also to me, is the same brain that conceived this idea - is the only one who can bring it to life. What are we waiting for? Einstein & Telsa & Shakespeare are gone, but then again, so are Larry, & Curly, and Moe. And haven't we always been told anything worth having is worth working for? SO Go forth you, and go forth me Let's bring our wonderful, marvelous ideas into this world! How do you know what it is? Why, so simple... It's the lightbulb! The spark! It's the thing that's missing that only YOU or I can provide. I know just the thing...don't you?
Bill Murray Day
Some would say today is Groundhog's Day But naturally, like anyone - in the know - I realize that it is really Bill Murray Day. And on Bill Murray Day I think of Bill Murray, (naturally) and how much joy he's brought to my life - through laughter, and yes, even through tears (comedians are great at drama - timing you know). But then I thought, how sad & funny that my very good friend, (Bill Murray) has no idea we're friends. 😦 He knows not that he has traveled with me, through my life - the uPS and DOwns. In my own Groundhog Day - Bill Murray is a townsperson, moving blithely along, clueless as to his impact on my every day life. (Alright, not every day, this is just a metaphor) And then I thought: I wonder how many other Bill Murray's there are (just one, but stay with me) walking around, impacting lives, never knowing they have a whole - secret world - of fans cheering them on. Not super fans, not stalker fans, just regular folks, wishing them well. (I know there are haters of Bill Murray, but just move on quietly, this page of verses is not for you). And then finally I thought, (who knew Bill Murray was such a deep topic?) What if we could tell our friends, near and f a r, famous or family, how much they meant to us? If you feel you absolutely must, you may use a separate example other than Bill Murray (but I don't know why you would). Whatever you do, be sure to tell your Bill Murray (or equal substitute) you love them, and that you wish them a lifetime of repeated happiness (in joy, not in a time-loop) in exchange for the positive impact they have made on you. Bill Murray Day should be a day of gratitude (solemn nod). I think he would like that, he might even say, "So I got that going for me, which is nice." That sounds like my friend, (Bill Murray) to me.
At the base of the mountain I gazed upward, toward the invisible peak - for it was shrouded in clouds and a mist of uncertainty. I gazed upward at the rocks - at the difficult path ahead. I gazed upward, at the sheer scale & impossibility. But then - I felt a nudge from behind - So gentle, that it was almost a whisper personified. "I am with you." And so, I took a step. A shaky step. I reached out my hand to begin the climb, But paused - "I'm scared." The gentle nudge moved me forward - "I am with you." I grabbed the earth, I took the step - I began the climb. It went well at first, But then - I stumbled. Panic set in and I nearly let go - But then - from beside me, guiding my hand, a voice so soft it was like a caress personified. "I am with you." And so, I continued the climb, Making progress, falling back, gaining ground, Feeling scared & brave & accomplished all at once. This continued on, for what seemed like ages. Until - One day, the mist enveloped me, and I passed through it to the other side. As I reached the top, I finally experienced the reward of my life long struggle. a view so - magnificent- that it overwhelmed my senses and rendered me speechless. Until. A voice so familiar, it was like Love personified. I gazed upward toward the source, My soul shining in recognition. "Oh! I know you... You were with me always."
Continue Threshing Wheat
“Don’t try to figure out what is happening. Simply trust Me and thank Me in advance for the good that will come out of it all. I know the plans I have for you, and they are good.”Jesus Calling, Sarah Young
“Where is hope to be found? In five life-altering words: “I am with you always.””New Morning Mercies, Paul David Tripp
Now Ornan turned and saw the angel; and his four sons who were with him hid themselves but Ornan continued threshing wheat.1 Chronicles 21:20, NJKV
For a couple of years now, I have been doing journaling after reading devotionals and my Bible. I don’t talk about it a lot, because it feels inauthentic to talk about something I feel like I should be doing anyway. It would be like saying, “Hey guys…I ate food today! Isn’t that impressive of me??” But, as I said in my previous post, this past year has been a year of re-evaluation, and maybe I need to talk more about things that mean something to me, and less about things that don’t.
Anyway, that small pre-cursor to say that not for a long time have the words I have read in a group of devotionals dove-tailed so smoothly with a Bible verse that was so completely applicable to my current state of mind; which was anxious and worried. I had just watched a YouTube video that had me nearly nauseous from a wave of worry. Now, I’ve been doing a LOT better about overcoming my anxiety (and a whole lot of that is thanks to the devotionals and journaling) but this one was a real doozy. I couldn’t even finish the video, but instead, decided to try and calm my mind with some reading.
As fate (or faith??) would have it, I read the passage about David wanting to number Israel – and how the Lord punished his sin of pride by offering David 3 options, and David chose option C – a three day plague. Now, to us in 2021, a 3 day plague doesn’t sound bad at all, right? Well, this was an old testament biblical plague, and they don’t do anything small.
SEVENTY THOUSAND people died in those three days.
I cannot even fathom the carnage. David even lamented to the Lord, “Why punish these sheep? What have they done? Instead, let my iniquity be on me and my household!” (My paraphrasing). Gotta say, I’m with you on this one, David. A leader of the people commits a wrong-doing against the Lord and the sheep are punished? How is that ever fair, whether now, or in Biblical times. But – this post isn’t about David, or any person in authority who does something wrong.
This is about the sheep he references. The people just living their lives and then BAM…plague. In my modern mind, I can really understand where the minds of the people may have been at during this three days of absolute death and horror. The rate of death must have been so abundant and so fast, that they may have been stepping over the bodies of friends or family. How in the world could they have coped, or worked, or done anything but weep uncontrollably every day of those three days? Did they know it was only going to be three days? Did David send out a decree or warn anyone? I have no idea, but that would have been a nightmare of a press release to draft.
But, again, let’s narrow our focus to the hero of the story. My new hero. Ornan the Brave. In verses prior to the one I shared above, it reads:
And God sent an angel to Jerusalem to destroy it. As he was destroying, the Lord looked and relented of the disaster, and said to the angel who was destroying, “It is enough; now restrain your hand.” And the angel of the Lord stood by the threshing floor of Ornan the Jebusite.” Then David lifted his eyes and saw the angel of the Lord standing between earth and heaven, having in his hand a drawn sword stretched out over Jerusalem. So David and the elders, clothed in sackcloth, fell on their faces.”1 Chronicles 21: 15-16
There is a lot happening here. David and the elders are in sackcloth, which is a coarse garment, usually made of goats hair, and symbolizes mourning or penitence. They are justifiably freaking out, and what does Ornan do? Verse 20 tells us that he turns and SEES THE ANGEL, most likely with his sword still drawn, and his sons, also completely justifiably, run and hide. But Ornan….Ornan the Brave just shrugs and says, (obviously my conjecture) “You know what? I don’t get what’s happening here – but I’m gonna trust that the Lord has this – and that He’s with me always, and that it’s gonna turn out for my good.” – and Ornan KEPT ON WORKING, and he was right.
The plague ended at his literal doorstep, and David came calling and paid him 600 shekels of gold by weight for his property (which is nearly $600,000 in today’s money). AND Ornan’s little abode became the site of the future temple of the Lord that Solomon would build during his reign.
All of this for a humble man who looked at an angel with a drawn sword and said, “I’m not going to worry about this, or even attempt to figure it out. I’m just going to press on, and believe that the Lord will work it out for my good.”
What an encouragement this story was to me. And I hope it is to you, too. There are obvious parallels we can draw to today’s world, but I hope the main takeaway is one of trust in the Lord’s timing, and his protection under the most horrific circumstances. I would say unfathomable…but somehow, after 2020, that’s the wrong word choice.
Now, of course within those seventy thousand people were many other Ornan’s. People who trusted the Lord, and who died anyway. Why did that happen? It happened because Life is unfair, and it’s been unfair since Eve and Adam took that first bite of the fruit they had no business eating…it’s been unfair since Cain first took a stone and murdered Abel ahead of his time. Since that point… good people die before bad people, and people who are perfect and sunny and too good for this world are taken too soon. It happens because of Sin with the capital S. And Sin is here to steal, kill, and destroy. And the thing it would MOST like to steal, kill, and destroy, is our faith.
As I was writing this, it also dawned on me that Ornan and his moment of complete trust occurs in chapter 21, verse 20. Perhaps this is a subtle sign that this should be my go-to verse for the year 2021? This is the year that no matter what the circumstances, no matter how much everyone around me is (COMPLETELY JUSTIFIABLY) freaking out, I should keep doing the work that the Lord has laid on my heart. But I should also do it with the renewed fervor of a man who has just seen an angel of the Lord with his sword drawn and said,
“Meh. Not the craziest thing I’ve seen today. God’s got this.”
“We are not given a good life or a bad life. We are given a life. It’s up to us to make it good or bad.”Ward Foley
Recently, I’ve been working hard to put my life back in order. I have been organizing paperwork, organizing computer files, organizing rooms, and just generally trying to get a grip on my life. I blew the dust off this blog, and was shocked to realize it has not been one year, but two since I last posted. SO, checking in…how have you all been? Anything exciting happen in 2019? 2020? Yeahhh….me too.
In early 2020, I turned 40 (before the pandemic, so I actually got to celebrate it – yay!) But then, my grandfather passed away suddenly in early March, our theatre shut down in person performances for the foreseeable future in late March, and my job was deemed “unessential” around that same time. To top it off, Riley, my beloved canine companion and best furry friend of 15.5 years died from kidney failure in early April. On New Years Eve of 2020, we discovered that our sweet and gentle cat Henry has feline AIDS. That was a definite sucker-punch to end out a pretty crazy year.
But, there was good too. During May through October, our theatre thought outside the box and (safely) developed an internet television show. We created twelve 20 minute episodes of original content. We wrote, sang, and acted our hearts out. Six episodes were released last fall, and the final six will be released this spring. We also completed our very first audio drama (“It’s a Wonderful Life”) thanks to our friends at Dramatic Publishing, who worked with us to gain the authors permission to convert his staged radio play into an actual podcast radio play. I’m proud to say for both projects, our safety precautions ensured that none of our actors or crew were beset with COVID.
Personally, I was able to take my first REAL time off in about ten years. April and nearly the entirety of May was spent catching up on a backlog of projects during the day, but the evenings were spent in leisure. Maybe my first leisure in a very long time. We spent 22 days and watched the entire Marvel movie series, in chronological order! And, shortly after his diagnosis, the vet found some medication that seems to be working well, and Henry is going to live with us, and the rest of his feline friends, as long as his health will allow. (We had all the other cats tested – they are negative, and Henry is not a biter, so no stressful adjustments needed to be made to his life)
Overall, a lot of time this past year was spent in thought – re-prioritizing my life, my goals, and my faith.
A dear friend of mine was commenting about how 2020 had actually had many good things happen to her, and she felt guilty for having a good year. I reminded her that while others had had a wonderful 2019, hers had been pretty horrible, and did she begrudge those who had been happy when she wasn’t? Of course she hadn’t.
To sum up….the way I cope is this. To me, life is just a swinging pendulum. Every year, both horrible and wonderful things happen, and every year from now til the end of time, horrible and wonderful things will happen. We have no idea when each one will strike, so all we can really do is take each day as it comes, find joy in the little moments, and brace ourselves for the big bad ones. All we can do is make the best of each moment we are given. I don’t know that that is life-changing words, but at the moment, it’s the best I have to give.
For those interested, the first six episodes of our series can be found here: https://vimeo.com/ondemand/lemonadejamboree
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“What do you think? If a man owns a hundred sheep, and one of them wanders away, will he not leave the ninety-nine on the hills and go to look for the one that wandered off?” – Matthew 18:12 (NIV)
Last night, as the evening sky grew dim, I went out to the chicken coop to make sure all the chickens were safe, and to close up the hen house. We keep the Roosters separate from the hens, and we count them before leaving to make sure everyone has come in for the night. Last night, I counted 12 Roosters. We currently have 13. That is more than the average chicken owner has, or should have, but it’s what we’ve got, and we are making the best of it right now. Anytime we’re missing one of them, I think of the above verse from Matthew, and decide to do my best to search for the rouge animal.
I recounted, and got the same number: 12. A thought hit me. I rescanned, and realized I was correct. We have a white rooster that, on occasion, decides he wants to sleep in the trees instead of in the safe haven of the coop. Normally, we can understand his decision. It’s a nice night, he wants to be out of the stuffy coop…etc. But last night it was a befuddlement of reasoning. It was pouring down rain, a cold wind was blowing, and the leaves of the tree had blown off, offering no protection from any elements.
I went to the tree that he normally roosts in, and there he was. Standing tall in the torrent of rain. It didn’t even make sense. I admonished him, “You silly Rooster, get down and go inside where it’s dry!” because don’t we all talk to our animals? He remained, stoic. He was drenched, but if a Rooster could, he radiated pride. “We’re both wet! You can’t be happy! Get down!” He would not. I checked the base of the tree and found a stick.
Gently (because I’m not a monster) I poked at him. The bottom of his feet, the back of his legs. Irritating him just enough that it made him uncomfortable to sit in the same position. He fussed back at me, re-adjusting and trying to stay on his branch. “I’m doing this for your benefit, you silly thing! I’m trying to move you to where it’s safe!” More fussing, more re-adjusting, more pride. “Okay, fine! I’ll irritate you all night if I have to!”
Eventually, he jumped down from his perch. But did he run into the safety of the coop? Nope. He ran past it. “Seriously?? What is wrong with you? Why don’t you trust me??? I’m trying to keep you safe!!” I finally herded him into the coop.
As I made the trek back to the house, soaked but proud I had managed to protect this silly little creature, I was gobsmacked by irony.
The Lord- (Clears throat) “Ahem.”
Me- “Ohhhhhh. I see what you did there.”
The lesson I took away from this 15 minute ordeal was a strong one. Maybe decisions that we think are a good one at the time, are really nothing more than us standing out in the rain, with chests puffed out, defying anyone to change us or our environment. And maybe we should trust that when Life’s little irritations come our way, they might actually be being used as a gentle guide to change our current circumstance, or a way to keep us safe.
Tell Your Story
I have read that yesterday was Mental Health Day and today is International Day of the Girl. I would like to tell a very long story about a very young girl. A story that is currently 17 years old. A quick spoiler. It is my story. Not all of my story, but a very small part of it that has had a very large impact.
In 2001, I was a 21 year old who had two part time jobs to support my less than one year old habit of community theatre. I was listening to music while driving to my second job. It was a clear, calm, and beautiful October day. I do not remember the specific day in October, and I have never looked it up to find out. It is a day I do not want to commemorate, but I always get a feeling when the anniversary approaches. I have that feeling today, so it must be near.
I can still remember the clothes I was wearing, and the song that was playing, but I will not share what they were, what it was, nor the details of what happened out of respect for the other party. But they happened. By the purest of accidents, I was involved in a car accident that can only be described as devastating.
In one millisecond, two lives changed forever. By the Lord’s providence, my car was being followed on the road by a prominent lawyer from a neighboring town. He was able to testify on scene to the police my lack of fault in the events that transpired. A couple stopped and stayed with me until my family could arrive. I remember the woman had a bruised face, and said she had just escaped an abusive relationship. I think she told me she was from Florida. I remember how kind she was to me in contrast to how battered her face looked. Later that night, I remember the feel of the rapid thumping of my father’s heartbeat as he tightly embraced me. He told me the hospital had called. The other person did not survive.
I cannot describe to you in eloquent terms the emotional turmoil that I went through in that moment, so I won’t attempt it. The best I can muster is to ask you to pretend your soul is made of fabric. Then imagine someone holding that fabric and ripping it in half. The sound of the tear is the disassociation one experiences in that moment. You are in the moment, but also outside of it, observing.
After the bold headlines appeared in the local paper, I had trouble adjusting to “real life” again. I was convinced everyone who looked at me, could see what I had done. It didn’t matter that it was not my fault. That if it hadn’t been me, it would have been the person behind me, or in front of me. It was me. I knew it. Even if no one else did. We sold the car I was driving so I’d never have to see it again. I never wore those clothes, and I never listened to that song (as best as I could control it.)
After I “adjusted,” the best way I knew how to cope was to not talk about it. I was never punished in the traditional sense of the word. No charges were ever filed, and no one blamed me. No one but me, that is. I became a self-punisher. If the world wouldn’t get justice, I would do it myself. I didn’t always punish in the physical sense, although sometimes, I did that too. I would hit my legs with belts or use my own hands to slap my head until my skull tingled. I had so much pent up emotion that it had to come out. And since I didn’t talk about it, I expressed it in that unhealthy way. But mostly, I would withhold things from myself that I thought would bring me happiness. I didn’t deserve it. How dare I deserve it.
I lived this way for ten years. Community theatre helped. I could be somebody else on stage. I didn’t have to be me. I could be funny, dramatic, whatever the play called for, as long as it didn’t call for me to be me.
Strangely enough, I never blamed God or asked “Why” it happened. It just did.
In 2008, the bullying incident I spoke of earlier this year took place, and I was suddenly without my safety net of my home theatre. I found a new set of friends, and tried to recover from another emotional sucker punch.
In 2010, my life shifted yet again, and filmmaking changed from a pipe dream to a reality. After several opportunities to work behind the scenes, and one successful collaboration was granted distribution, the opportunity to write a screenplay presented itself, and in early 2011, I bought a book explaining how to write a screenplay, and I penned “The Hepburn Girls.”
I changed the circumstance, and added humor, because Life has both tragedy and humor, and my life had not been all sadness. Great moments of joy and humor had punctuated my personal timeline. However, as the author and leading actor, the process of writing and acting in the film was the cinematic equivalent of ripping a bandage off a wound over a decade old- only now, I was finally allowing a healing balm to soothe the pain.
I learned a lot while making the film. Before, I didn’t know PTSD could apply to people who were not in the military. As I researched, it dawned on me that I had been experiencing the effects for years. I understood that my life split in two pieces after that moment. Audrey was me before that accident and Katherine was who I became after.
I also learned, intimately learned, that sometimes the hardest person to forgive is yourself. So when I created Katherine and Audrey—I created the two women whose bodies I had inhabited at one point in my life. The carefree teenager who loved old movies, nostalgia, and bounced back easily from her relatively sheltered life’s problems. And Katherine, the recluse shattered by tragedy, the person who was kind to everyone but herself, and who used humor to deflect attention without getting to the root of the problem. I thought, if only my two selves could meet and help each other. Katherine could tell Audrey to grow up, and Audrey could tell Katherine to let go.
Anyway, in 2013 the film was complete and edited, and ready for distribution- and just like that, the guaranteed distribution deal, very suddenly, but very amicably, fell through. Film festivals were entered, but there wasn’t a lot of interest. Other distributors were contacted, but they would only accept the film if pricey changes were made, including a new title. I couldn’t afford that, so Audrey and Katherine drifted back into the shadows.
I was confused, and disappointed. I again, felt I was to blame. I felt as though I had let everyone down. That I hadn’t done a good enough job, hadn’t been pretty enough, thin enough, young enough, acted strong enough, whatever things you want to tell yourself when you tell yourself you’re the root of the issue. But then, I met a new group of people, a theatre was founded, and my life became very full, and very happy for four years. I gained a new self-respect, and a new lease on life and happiness and creativity. I was writing again, and a routine seemed to be laid out and settled into.
In January of 2018, I felt an unexpected nudge. By chance, I had been sent the link to a film festival by a friend. I half-heartedly read about it. Most festivals have a time limit. As in, you must complete the film within a year of the festival. “The Hepburn Girls” was now an ancient seven years old. But this festival said they would accept films from any year.
Again, I was confused. Audrey and Katherine seemed to be calling to me, but their fate was sealed. My fate was sealed. They were going to live on Amazon and Vimeo, downloaded by….no one. The Lord had closed that door and I had accepted it, and embraced it.
But still….I did love contests.
I thought about it, and prayed about it, and decided I would do a one year private experiment. What was the harm? Only more rejection, and I was getting better at accepting that. I filled out the information for fifteen festivals with varying deadlines throughout the year, and swallowed hard as I paid the various entry fees that added up to more money than I was expecting to spend. All the ones I entered said they would accept films from any year. Then, I went on with life and told the Lord I’d trust Him to let the chips fall where they may.
It is now ten months later, and of the fifteen, four rejected it (goodbye money!), five accepted it as an official selection, and four awarded it some kind of laurel ranging from “Inspiring Hope” in Atlanta, Georgia to a “Bronze Award” in Ellington, New York. Two are still undecided as of this writing.
One festival had some small print that once selected, asked that you be present to be eligible to win, so last week, my husband and I took a quick road trip down to Atlanta and were thrilled to receive Third Place in the Feature Film category.
I’m not sure why there has been a renewed interested in “The Hepburn Girls” or how long that interest will last. Maybe only this year. Maybe only when someone needs to see the film. Audrey and Katherine no longer belong to me. Once the film was released, they became wards of the world. In the intervening years, I have given up trying to orchestrate or figure out the why or how of anything. I have learned to just let go, and truly embrace that my timeline and the Lord’s timeline, are not the same timeline.
I think that’s why I wanted to share part of my story, today at the intersection of World Mental Health Day and International Day of the Girl.
Tragic things happen to many people for many reasons, and sometimes for no discernible reason at all. However, the Lord has taken my tragedy and used the circumstance for good. It is no coincidence that my life verse, even before the accident, was Romans 8:28. It has carried me through on the darkest of days.
I don’t want to be seen as inspirational, or put up on some pedestal as a person who should be emulated in any way. I am broken, but I’m finally allowing the Lord to glue me back together. I’m still recovering. As with most of us, I will spend my lifetime recovering from Life and everything it has thrown at me, and is still yet to toss.
Actually, I do want a couple things I did to inspire others. Tell your story. I didn’t approach anything close to healing until I began to tell my story. There is power in words, and in sharing those words. Pain needs somewhere to go. It can either live inside of you, or it can be expressed out into the world. Inside, it will fester and boil, and cause internal emotional and physical chaos. Outside, it can be released. Given away. Some people won’t want to hear your story. That’s okay. Not every story is for every person. Tell it anyway. The right people will eventually find it.
Also, never do anything for the worldly glory you could receive. Perhaps that was part of my early lesson. Don’t make a movie because you want to be told you are “the prettiest, skinniest, most talented, most-insert-adjective here” — do it because you have a story that is burning to be told, and you are the vessel by which it will be shared. There are so many people who have stories, and they are allowing fear to hold them back. I still grapple with fear. I have won many battles with fear, but I’m still working on the war.
Also, also, remember that God’s timing is not your timing. And the fastest way to find that out is to inform Him of exactly what you plan to do. These laurels are wonderful, and have served as such an encouragement to me to continue to dream and work, even if that work isn’t immediately recognized- but they aren’t the basis for the true value of the film. That was achieved when it helped me overcome, and it will continue to be achieved as each person who needs the message of the film, views and absorbs it.
“The Hepburn Girls” is just a tiny part of my life, but if what I experienced can inspire someone to tell their story, and begin their healing, then perhaps they will be able to inspire someone else, and with each story told, together we can begin a trickle effect that will truly heal the most broken of lives.
“The Hepburn Girls” can be found on Amazon.com by clicking here: http://a.co/d/aXOPzTX