Our Most Memorable Vacation —the Rat Motel!

August 1992. The drive was long but fun and filled with anticipation: Richmond, Missouri, to Denver, Colorado, and then a quick overnight at Chris and Mitch’s before leaving for Blue Mesa Reservoir in Southwestern Colorado the next day.

We carpooled with the Gardners, who drove their full-sized van while we went in ours. By mid-afternoon, we settled into our “hunting” cabin at Blue Mesa: a small two-bedroom cabin with a kitchen, bath, and living room with a pot-bellied stove. David and Daniel immediately commandeered the set of bunk beds in the smaller bedroom while Chris snuggled three-month-old Josiah on one of the three couches lining three walls in the living room.

In no time, David and Daniel, ages eight and six, delighted themselves in the woods around our cabin while we prepared dinner. The lake view out the kitchen window was breathtaking. We chatted and made plans with the guys for the next few days of relaxing, fishing, and eating delicious kokanee salmon! An hour later, the boys reappeared hot and sweaty, ready for supper and needing baths. They parked their newly found larger-than-life walking sticks in a corner of the living room. 

Blue Mesa was known for its plentiful fish and delicious freshwater kokanee salmon. Chris and Mitch had fished here in previous years because they knew some of the proprietor’s family members. From experience, they told us we’d catch the most kokanee while night fishing. 

I happily volunteered to watch the three boys while Mitch, Chris, and Don fished that first night. I privately looked forward to donning my PJs and settling in with my magazine after supervising baths, reading the boys a book, and getting them settled on the bunk. And the evening went precisely as planned! Josiah was snuggled on a couch to my right as I relaxed on the sofa facing the stove with my back to the kitchen. I began my quiet evening while the others fished.

My “quiet” was suddenly interrupted by a soft skittering sound. Silence. Then, more skitters. I remained on the couch as I looked around. Suddenly, I saw an animal the size of a young rabbit scamper from the stove to the farthest couch. Immediately reasoning that Chapstick, the Gardners’ German Shepherd, must have spooked a rabbit inside earlier in the day, I went back to my reading with no concern, just a curiosity. 

The skitter of feet against the hard linoleum floor came again, but this time, to my chagrin, I saw a long tail well over six inches long! That was no cute cotton-tailed bunny. It was a rat!

My heart pounded, and my brain quickly did cartwheels as I watched it scamper from the stove to the couch and back again. How could I possibly keep it at bay? It was barely dark outside. How long into the night would Don fish with Chris and Mitch?

I quickly ventured off the couch and grabbed one of the boy’s walking sticks—my only protection. Back on the sofa, with my feet tucked under me, I watched the overly brave rodent. I lifted the stick and whack! I hit the floor so forcefully that the rat ran under the stove and stayed—for a few brief minutes. When it stuck its head out, I responded with my stick, “Whack!” Repeatedly, again and again, but he seemed immune to my whacks in no time. He scampered from the stove back under a couch. 

My mind reeled. Three couches. The rat claimed the left-hand couch and stove. I sat on the middle couch, and Josiah was asleep on the right-hand sofa. Whack. Silence. A pointy nose and skittering feet. Whack again. Out of necessity, my whacks were coming sooner as the rat grew braver, seeming to know this was his home before I invaded it. How long could I keep this up? All night? My paltry walking stick didn’t seem as powerful for me as it had for my mighty little explorers when they parked them in the corner. “Maybe I should have grabbed both of them,” I thought.

I wished I could call them to come home, but this was before such things as cell phones. I relied on the other tool in my arsenal, which wasn’t physical! I began to pray desperately, “God, please don’t let them catch any fish. Cause them to give up and come home!” I knew this was a long shot because we were prepared with multiple coolers and had already discussed the fishing limits. Chris and Mitch heralded the fantastic fishing; we’d have enough fish to buy dry ice for the coolers and stock our deep freezers at home. “No fish, God. Please, no fish. Cause them to come home.” Whack. Whack. Whack. 

Minutes turned to a couple of hours when suddenly, at 10:00, I heard a car motor and Chapstick’s bark. “I can’t believe we didn’t catch anything!” “We never catch ‘nothing.’” They walked into the kitchen and grumbled half-heartedly. Then Don saw me. 

“What is wrong?” He could tell from my swollen eyes and panicky look that I was stressed. 

“There is a rat in here,” I announced. 

As I mentioned, the Gardners had been here before. As kindly as I guess they could counter, one said, “Oh, it was probably a mouse,” while they sat at the kitchen table and began preparing 10:00 PM sandwiches. Don sat down also. (I remained stoic on my couch with my feet up underneath me!)

The emotions from the past two and a half hours began to overflow, and my anger began to simmer when Don suddenly exclaimed, “Mitch, that IS a rat!” He jumped from his kitchen chair and stood in the open living room entrance.

In no time, Mitch and Don devised a plan. Mitch would stand on one side of the stove with Chapstick on his lease, while Don would drop a large log on the rat after they spooked it his way. Even today, the scene is worthy of a comic act. The guys took their spots, ready to conquer! Chapstick jerked and smelled the air. Don held the log. We saw the rat’s tail, and almost as quickly as it disappeared, we all heard the skitter of feet scampering up the metal stove pipe. No luck killing that rat. The guys waited as Mr. Rat occasionally peeked out from under the stove, only to scamper back up again.

By now, it was midnight. Chris and I drove to the main office and woke up the manager. His reply was, “Well, do you want my 22? I can’t do anything now, but I’ll put out a trap tomorrow.” No luck until morning, it seemed. We made our way back to the cabin. 

“I’m not sleeping in here,” I determinedly whispered to Don, and he knew beyond a shadow of a doubt I wouldn’t! We all agreed to bed down in our vans. Don lowered the van’s backseat and carried the boys to their new bed. I lay down beside them. Don did his best to stretch out in a captain’s chair. Chris, Mitch, and Josiah bedded down in their van. 

The following morning, we entered the cabin and found rat droppings on all the beds and couches. The manager put out large rat traps and offered us a different cabin, but guess what? We packed up and left after discovering skunks sleeping under that porch! We had a vacation we’ll never forget with lifelong friends; we came home with empty coolers but a wealth of stories. I’m so grateful God answers prayers and gives us something to laugh about years later with great “forever” friends!

One of the Bravest Challenges I’ve Ever Chosen

Summer of 1977 - ready to head our for Christian High Adventure Training. That’s me, 5th person on the back row in the plaid shirt and felt hat.

I graduated from William Jewell College on May 15, 1977. By the second week of June, I flew from Kansas City, MO, to Montrose, CO, for an epic summer adventure. “Adventure” wasn’t my plan exactly; my plan centered around service as a summer missionary in North Carolina after preparation in Colorado.

Upon landing at the Denver, Colorado, airport, the reality of an adventure of new heights began to set in for me. Someone guided me to a propeller plane for the last leg of the flight from Denver to Montrose. The shaky aircraft rose above the Uncompahgre Mountains and settled in its valley below. The snowcapped San Juan Mountain Range in the distance gorgeously surrounded the town of Montrose. That’s where Pastor Chuck Clayton, the Home Mission Board missionary in charge of Christian High Adventure’s camping and backpacking, greeted me. I was one of 19 adults who would complete a 15-day wilderness backpacking program to prepare many of us for assignments throughout the United States or for some who came for a personal, physical, and spiritual challenge. When training was complete, I knew I would head to Camp Crestridge, a girls’ camp in North Carolina.

We hit the ground running, so to speak. We ran two miles each of the two mornings in Montrose to acclimate to the higher altitudes. We sorted the necessary gear and supplies into backpacks. My pack, which weighed 62 lbs., contained everything I needed for the next 15 days. We also focused on Bible study, prayer, team building, and wilderness training.

Besides Chuck and 14 other guys, I was one of four ladies. I was in awe of Elaine Furlow, a photographer and reporter for Home Missions magazine. As a journalist, she managed to focus on the hike (and survival!) and her professional tasks simultaneously. I’m indebted to her October 1977 article, as I recall some tiny details nearly 50 years later.

On Day 3, we loaded into the back of a cattle truck and rode to the trailhead, which led us into the San Juan Mountain range. We began our 50-mile hike over several 14,000-foot mountain peaks, averaging 5 miles daily for 12 days. The aspen trees sparkled in the breeze and shaded those first steps, preventing me from seeing the grueling days ahead. Such an oxymoron now: some of the most grueling days of my life, challenging me physically and spiritually while mingling with some of the most exhilarating days of growth and forever memories!

Chuck warned that this trip would be challenging, and I had done my best to prepare. I had awakened early before my morning college classes for weeks and ran a few blocks to my dear education professor and friend, Miss Lutie Chile’s, house. We would then walk around Liberty, MO. She added “leaning over and picking up her friends’ morning newspapers to toss them onto their porches” to her exercise routine. I still smile thinking about our walks and talks. On a side note, I’d never heard of a “mentor” in 1977, but today I know: God blessed me with one of the dearest mentors of all time in Miss Chiles.)  After a crisp walk, we returned to her home, where she insisted on making me breakfast while we visited. Afterward, I ran back to my dorm and prepared for classes. Each evening, I ran two miles around the WJC track, fearful of being unprepared for this opening day! In the days at home, between college graduation and leaving for CO, I’d put on my new hiking boots and hike the nearly 10-mile trek between our house and Grandma & Grandpa Tanner’s home. Besides physical prep, I also prayed and studied the Bible. This journey was one of those experiences I knew deep in my heart I must complete, but I still wondered where I got the hair-brained idea that mountain climbing and wilderness training were meant for me! Ready or not, here I come!

This feat was the bravest excursion I had ever undertaken. Under the direction of Chuck Clayton and some seasoned veterans like Bill Berry and Jack Ollis, our team started at an elevation of 6,200 feet outside Montrose. Over two weeks, we steadily climbed in the Uncompahgre Wilderness area of the San Juan Mountains, ending above the timberline within the first few days. I quickly learned to spot our upcoming trails because, more often than not, we followed the paths marked out by the wild game. I discovered that deer, antelope, and elk trekked around the mountains in habitual paths. In a sense, they created their roadway system above the timberline! Isn’t it cool how God created them to innately follow a pattern of caring for themselves?)

Far above the timberline brought the most challenging hikes. Besides becoming bone-weary, fear made its way to my heart multiple times. Sometimes, we hiked on the semi-smooth animal trails, but on Day 5, we also crossed large swaths of loose scree fields, those areas of small broken rock accumulating on the sides of steep mountains. As we ascended 2,300 feet that day, we were hiking across loose scree or over 2-foot snowbanks. Each terrain proved treacherous for me. For each step, I felt my footing slip uncertainly under the weight of my backpack. Crossing loose scree was scary!

I prayed fervently for God’s protection as tears welled in my eyes that day, and I was very grateful for the expertise and encouragement of my team. I pressed on. It seemed like we hiked for hours across this arduous terrain. All I could see in front of me were more rocks, scree ahead, and a deep, snowy chasm below. When we finally found a safe place to rest, I’m sure Jack Ollis noticed my tears. As the tears began to flow, he reached down and pointed to a tiny—yes, minuscule—purple flower. He said, “Janis, what do you see? Remember, where you see a flower, dirt is below it.” He gently reminded me that God has given us solid ground below all this scree. He’s got you.”

LIFE LESSON #1: When I feel like I’m crossing the loose scree in life and nothing feels solid, God is with me. Psalm 18:33 and Matthew 7:25-27 remind me that He is my solid rock. He’s got this!

We made it across the loose scree that day and climbed steadily higher in altitude. We awoke on Day 6 to snow coming down and continued our climb. Before long, I saw snow everywhere: some packed, some fluffy, but always on steep ridges. By now, we knew to dress in layers because of the cold routinely. We covered our heads and faces with wool stocking caps and wore woolen mittens and socks. We clipped crampons on our boots and learned kick-steps to prevent sliding down the steep terrain. One day, in a reasonably safe area (according to our trained guides, yet precariously steep to me!), we practiced using ice axes to stop a fall and then get back up after such a fall—scary practice, but also helpful. By being prepared, I didn’t fear falling as much. I knew what to do. I also knew seasoned climbers who had trekked similar trails, surrounded by me. We climbed over Silver Mountain, a 13,714-foot peak, that day. We encountered steep boulders as we descended Silver Mountain on the opposite side. From Silver Mountain, we could see Wetterhorn Peak in the distance, our technical climb destination.

On Day 9, we hiked up Uncompahgre at 14,309 feet. When we reached the summit, I saw for miles around. My exhaustion paled compared to this majestic sight! We sang hymns of praise together on top of that peak. Today, these memories remind me of Psalm 8:1: “Lord, our Lord, how majestic is your name in all the earth! You have set your glory in the heavens.”

LIFE LESSON #2: Be prepared by God’s grace. Hopefully, the worst won’t happen, but even if it comes, if I already know and trust God, if I’ve prepared myself by God’s grace, I can feel confident when I begin to slide down slippery slopes. I also know “my” people, those I can trust and turn to for support. I know my prayer warriors. I know my mentors. I know the people who will point me to God.

Three more experiences stand out in my memory. After several days of arduous hiking over loose scree and snow and after ascending Uncompahgre Peak, we descended into a lush green valley. Mountains surrounded us, and a gorgeous mountain stream and lake were in view. What a sight for sore eyes! We set up camp and remained there for four nights. We rested, studied the Bible, and learned rappelling and mountain climbing techniques. We had time to wash up and prepare hot meals. Refreshing!

After settling into Wetterhorn Basin, I experienced the most fantastic sight! While nestled in the valley one late afternoon, we watched storm clouds encircle us. We saw shafts of rain and white snow-covered peaks in every direction while warmed by the sun’s rays in this valley. Never before, nor since, have I seen a storm completely encircle me without being sprinkled upon. The snow-covered peaks and shafts of rain created a mesmerizing sight while I remained dry. I’d give anything to see this again.

LIFE LESSON #3: Stop and accept the rest. This lesson is hard for me. I tend to keep on going even when I feel worn out. Psalm 23 comes to mind as I think of that mountain respite. This rest best happens for me when Don and I take road trips, work in my garden or flowers, or even sit alone with my Bible. Just God and me. Why do I resist slowing down? I’ll miss something beautiful and refreshing if I refuse to slow down and wait. Isaiah 40:31 reminds me, “They that wait upon the Lord shall renew their strength; they shall mount up with wings as eagles; they shall run, and not be weary; and they shall walk, and not faint.” I need the rest.

That mountain valley experience prepared us for the most challenging adventure in my life! During the next two days, we would prepare for our technical climb on the rock face of Wetterhorn, a 14,000-foot peak. The following day, we headed to a nearby cliff, where we attached ourselves to ropes with carabiners for a day of rappelling. I loved it! Gliding in the air and pushing off the rock face with my boots was exhilarating. I loved the bounce, knowing I was safely attached to the safety harness, and strong men watched my secured rope above. Afterward, Chuck taught us the next step, belaying. I soon discovered that my partner, Bill Berry, would be on belay for me, and I would, in turn, belay someone. I would be responsible for someone’s life by how well I followed instructions, tied my knots, and guided the rope. Fear set in big time! It was all I could do to bat back tears as we practiced. How could I possibly be strong enough and accurate enough to prevent harming someone else?

That evening, after an early dinner, Chuck instructed us to go off alone with our Bibles and journals: pray and prepare. An early bedtime was necessary for our 4:00 AM wake-up call. We needed to be at Wetterhorn by daylight to make our ascent up the rocky face side early enough to hike down the other side of the mountain before afternoon, as it wasn’t safe to be on the mountain when afternoon storm clouds might roll in. I spent my time alone that early evening in full-blown tears and prayer. I can still feel the tightness in my chest and the shallow breathing as I write these memories some fifty years later. Only God could calm me, cause me to bravely move forward, and prove that we could do this together!

I worked the ropes during our test climb.

Janis working the ropes while climbing Matterhorn Peak, Summer 1977

The following day, Day 12, I awoke early with some trepidation, but mostly, I felt the challenge, knowing I was up to the task. I also realized I wasn’t alone. I might be holding the belay rope, but I would be surrounded by others ready to grab hold if necessary. Interestingly, I didn’t fear for myself, knowing “they” knew what they were doing. The climbing began. Chuck divided us into three teams; the first men of each group climbed and set anchors in the cracks of the rocks. We systematically began climbing. When it was my turn, and I was securely attached to the rope, I called out, “On belay?” From above, I heard, “Belay on.” I replied, “Climbing.” “Climb on,” my partner called back, so I began. I reminded myself always to hold three points at any given moment: two footholds, one hand or two handholds, and one foot securely in place before moving upward. I searched for each step and stretched, ensuring firm grips or footholds before continuing.

I tested the rocks and slowly inched toward the encouraging voices above. Climbing ever so higher, I briefly looked around and saw God’s grand creation differently: what a glorious view! Finally, I reached the summit to the cheers of my team. After a brief rest, I crouched on the belay for the next person. Success! We made it safely up. “God protected ‘him’ from ‘me’ in my weakness and fear,” I often thought! The view from Wetterhorn’s summit proved spectacular. I breathed deeply the fresh, clear air, albeit relatively thin. I signed the registry at the top of Wetterhorn, proving my success. Who will climb it now and look my name up?

LIFE LESSON # 4: God will see me through the scariest situations in life. I need to turn to Him. When I am weak, He is strong. So many verses came to mind the evening before the scary climb. I don’t recall them exactly, but in the past 50 years, these verses proved themselves truthful: Joshua 1:9 “Haven’t I commanded you: be strong and courageous? Do not be afraid or discouraged, for the Lord your God is with you wherever you go” and Psalm 27:14 “Wait for the Lord; Be strong, and let your heart be courageous. Wait for the Lord.”

When we returned to camp, we began our last major event: a 24-hour time of prayer and fasting. Chuck gave each of us individual coordinates to a camping spot about a half mile away. Using our compasses, he instructed us to take only our sleeping bag, compass, Bible, and journal. Of all the technical skills I’d learned, orienteering and map reading were my favorites! I enjoyed reading my maps and compass to discover my spot. Once settled, I spent daylight exploring the grassy knoll, reading, praying, and napping. When night came, I was at peace. The next day was a repeat in this serene place of rest. I felt God’s closeness as I worshiped, knowing that soon enough, I’d return to the hustle and bustle of work and many more new adventures. Yet, I felt empowered. I must cherish this time, and I did. In many ways, I still feel like these events happened just yesterday.

LIFE LESSON #5: Enjoy God’s presence. Life is all about my relationship with God. Isaiah 25:1: “O LORD, You are my God. I will exalt You. I will praise Your name. For You have done wonderful things; Your counsels of old are faithfulness and truth.” I must make time for God and me alone.

When prompted, “What is the bravest thing you have ever done?” I know this adventure, chosen by “me,” is the most outlandish choice I have ever made. How would I have known that this choice helped prepare me for brave undertakings in the years ahead—undertakings I would never have chosen, like knowing what to do when a child or loved one was seriously ill, going through brain surgery, facing monumental adult decisions, or so much more? When Paul recorded Romans 5:3-5, I’m sure God spoke personally to me: tribulation leads to perseverance, which leads to character, and character leads to hope. Finally, hope does not disappoint because the Holy Spirit has poured the love of God into our hearts.

Get Your Shoes On

“But, I don’t want to wear those shoes! Can I wear my pink ones or my tennis shoes?” The wail was familiar, and so was the response, “Just get something on your feet, now!”

Which ones should I choose?

A million shoes scattered in the closet (Yes, a slight exaggeration, but under stress, who cares?); too many choices. How often have you had needless exchanges in your home about which shoes to put on for school or church or play?

How many is too many?

When I look in my closet, I realize these exchanges are not just about my children and grandchildren. I see dozens of shoes. Granted, I haven’t worn some for over a year; a pair or two are of a specific color or style for just the right outfit; still others simply don’t feel as comfortable as my well-worn everyday favorites. And besides, I can justify it, “My feet aren’t growing anymore!” Flip flops, dress sandals, hiking books, canvas, leather, and slippers.

How did this concern come to light? While researching charities with my students, I came across an interesting project: The Shoe That Grows. The “shoe” is the first innovation taken on by an intriguing organization, Because International. My interest was piqued when I read,

                  “Because International believes in PRACTICAL COMPASSION. We want to listen to make their daily lives better.

                   And then we help turn those ideas into a reality. Basically, we try to make things better by making better things.”

I dug deeper. I googled and followed internet threads. Liking what I saw, but wanting to be sure, I sent an email and quickly received a return phone call from the founder and executive director, Kenton Lee.

There’s something about the way God wired all of us. For me, it seems I become passionate about specific causes. In elementary school, I eagerly divided small change from chores and birthday money into three self-decorated containers: tithe, missions, me. I enjoyed watching them slowly fill. I loved knowing I would have my very own gifts to donate for the Lottie Moon or Annie Armstrong offerings at my church. By high school, I sewed clothing, and with the help of my parents, personally delivered gifts for my “adopted” friend at the Missouri Baptist Children’s home in Bridgeton, MO.  Since then the charity opportunities have become more complex and exciting: ongoing World Vision sponsorships and multiple timely causes. For each effort, the passion runs deep. I pray. I research. I pray some more. In time, I know what to do.

I quickly recognized the old familiar tug as I spoke with Kenton. I was hooked. What drew me? My research revealed Because International’s real-life innovative process: see a need, talk to the people in need, don’t try to reinvent the wheel, and create a product to solve a real problem. The first project for Because International was The Shoe That Grows. Lee and his team saw a need. Children around the world, especially in Third World countries, need shoes. Lee began to design a shoe that would expand as a child grows. After several unsuccessful attempts, his team turned to a shoe development team, Proof of Concept.  The Shoe That Grows became a reality.

“How can I help, Kenton? Count me in!” I was thrilled to discover a practical way: Wear A Pair in April. “Please include my granddaughter and me.” I wondered if this real-life learning experience was possible for my students. Within days, I checked with my principal and designed a lesson plan.

The next day I opened class with a simple direction: “If your parents said, ‘Put something on your feet, how many possibilities do you have?’ Count everything that fits – whether you like them or not.” I listed all the answers in a column: 11, 4, 7, 6, 8, 3, etc. When the list was complete, students calculated the average number of shoes for one child. (We had about 7 pairs per child.)

I continued, “Now, think. How many children are in your home? How many shoes are in your house? What happens when you outgrow a pair or decide you simply don’t like them any longer? What if your new ball team has different colors? The Smart Board came in handy as we watched Kenton Lee’s CBS interview on YouTube. I asked, “Can you imagine not having a pair of shoes? Can you imagine finally getting a pair only to outgrow them? Would you be willing to cut out the toes of your shoes to continue wearing them longer?” Since our class of gifted students involves research, children checked out medical sites about the problems of going barefoot: disease, transmission of parasites, fungus, and wounds which won’t heal – to name a few. I proposed that the children could do something if they wished. With parent permission, they could participate in the “Wear a Pair in April” campaign and tell people the story. One student asked, “Could we also fill a duffle?” So we agreed to try. Our main goal is to tell the story of The Shoe That Grows. Our secondary goal is to “Fill a Duffle.”

Perhaps when people hear about our research, they will want to donate the funds needed to give 50 pairs of shoes to children in need. We agreed to set up a booth at our Business Fair in April. Isn’t life all about learning and applying lessons? In my class, we’ll focus on doing research to learn, but in real-life we become part of the research by experience. Hopefully, my elementary students will experience a life lesson which carries on for years to come.

Learn more about my efforts with The Shoe That Grows, our classroom year-long business unit, or projects in upcoming features. Feel free to contact me.

Wild Things

Eryn Lynum’s sparkling eyes and broad smile captivated me. I wanted to sit at the same table with this soon-to-be-published author. I wanted to bask in her enthusiasm and soak in a bit of her knowledge. I hoped to discover the secret of a successful website. How did she finally break through as a writer? What happened to cause her to say to herself, “I am a writer. I can do this.”

Here I sat, having lunch at a conference put on by  Heart of America Christian Writers Network. Stories of other writers bore a familiar resemblance to mine. Eager to learn, I felt as though I were in college again. Did I dare acknowledge that God truly had a plan for the words wafting through my brain? Could God really want me to venture out in obedience? Of course, I knew the answer was a resounding, “Yes.” This wasn’t the first time I’d felt compelled to pursue a life-long dream. Excitement grew. Perhaps I could call myself a “real” writer. I listened. I took notes. I noticed.

“…and he sailed off through night and day and in and out of weeks and almost over a year to where the wild things are…”

During that weekend of risk-taking, I connected with Max in Maurice Sendak’s Where the Wild Things Are. 1  Oh, how I can relate even today! Nights and days; weeks and years – sailing in and out of writing; learning more; writing snippets of fun and memories for family members; designing creative units for children and teachers; completing camp devotions or Sunday school curriculum; knowing a message was inside ready to be shared; even feeling a “calling.” In and out of time. Days and nights. Weeks and years. Yet, never allowing myself to be called “Author”; never as Max might say, being the king of the rumpus!

Unfortunately, I’d always allow the wild things to control. My wild things? Doubting ability, Comparisons, Busyness, Lack of time — And then, the elephant in the door — the massive trumpeting ogre: perfectionism laced with technology. Oh, I was skilled in using computers. Unfortunately, creating a website was time-consuming as it presented a fresh new learning curve. I became easily frustrated at taking precious time from writing to design a website of worth. The website roared its terrible roar, gnashed its terrible teeth, rolled its terrible eyes, and showed its terrible claws until, like Max, I said, “BE STILL!” And I tamed it with my magic trick of staring.

In reality, my magic trick really possessed no magic at all. Like Max, I stared directly at those monsters and commanded, “Be Still.” Fearful of attending a conference of “real” writers, (one of those monsters in disguise) I had prayed for weeks, “God show my why I’m even going. Show me what you want me to get from this.”

So here I sat. At a table with Eryn Lynum, a petite young mother of three boys. Her book, 936 Pennies, was to be published soon. Her new success intrigued me; I listened closely. She spoke of her website and its value to her as a writer. I ventured my disdain and frustration as I revealed my floundering attempts. Sure I had a “site,” but it wasn’t good enough.  The very technology which blurred my eyes and discouraged my creativity inspired life in Eryn. Before I knew it, Eryn — mother, wife, author, and technologically-savvy lady –asked, “Would you like me to help you with your website? I love doing websites!” Would I ever!!  In no time, I saw an answer to one of my prayers. We agreed to meet within the month.

It’s interesting how life unfolds. God certainly does work in mysterious ways to teach us patience, restraint, and rest in Him. Eryn had some bumps in her schedule. After our initial visit, we put the website aside for a while. In fact, I wasn’t sure it would happen. My 1975 copy of Catherine Marshall’s Adventures in Prayer2 is dog-eared and marked. I opened the book to read two well-known chapters: “The Prayer that Makes Dreams Come True” and “The Prayer of Relinquishment.” Good reminders pointing to the God’s truths; I needed to momentarily take a step back and wait.

Journal, January 11, 2016 … I read I Corinthians 2:1-5 and then I wrote:

My dream of writing – Your dream for me to write for you

I’m scared. I procrastinate. Like Paul, I don’t have eloquence. I feel so inadequate.

So, while I wait for it to take shape, I’ll choose to just get to know you better.

I want readers – someday – to see your Holy Spirit power.

I approach writing with fear and trembling.

I have no wise and persuasive words.

I do have you.

I let God know I was willing to give up the website, give up the publications, give up the eloquence. Why? Because “I do have you, God, and that is enough.”

January 21 – Just ten days later, Eryn writes in an email, “I have good news—I would like to take on your website 🙂 My husband and I have been working on building up our web design and marketing business, and creating websites for writers (and speakers and bloggers) is something we want to move into. I still have all of our notes from our meeting …”

Patience, waiting, and yes, even relinquishing a dream, allowed me to work with a great team. Bread Box Creative is the brainchild of Eryn and Grayson Lynum.  Who knows, perhaps those weeks of prayer was just the ticket for getting their dream to fruition, too.

“…the wild things roared their terrible roars and gnashed their terrible teeth

and rolled their terrible eyes and showed their terrible claws

but Max stepped into his private boat and waved good-bye…”

“Goodbye, Wild Things.” Of course, there will be days of procrastination. Sure, there will be moments of uncertainty and busyness. Peacefully, for now, I’ve said, “Good-bye,” to one major wild thing.

Thank you, Eryn.

1Sendak, Maurice. Where the Wild Things Are. New York: Harper & Row, 1963.

2Marshall, Catherine. Adventures in Prayer. Old Tappan: Chosen Books, 1975.