It's okay not to be a duck

As I continue to grow up I think I’ve really come to understand the importance of protecting my mental health, especially after Berit was born.
I don’t keep it secret that I struggled with postpartum anxiety and struggled with it alone for the most part. I had to learn how to speak up and speak out.
Luckily, I had a certain managing editor friend that lovingly told me I needed to speak to my doctor.
Since then, I’ve focused on not allowing toxic relationships ruin me.
But man is it hard.
Why is it so easy to tell a rude stranger right where they can go but when it’s our own friends or family member, someone we should be comfortable with, we agonize over what to say?
When is it okay to step away from a toxic family member? A sister, a cousin, even a parent?
Living in the south we are taught as very young children to mind our manners even at the expense of our hearts.
Mind you manners, cross your legs, dry up your tears, and be on your best behavior.

However, and please don’t hate me for saying this, sometimes it’s OK to not speak to people — even if they’re our elders.
It’s never OK, of course, to be hateful. That’s not what Jesus has taught us and what we should spread to others.
But I truly believe it’s OK to walk away from people that keep you from having that relationship you need with Jesus because your heart is constantly filled with anger.
I don’t want Berit to be conditioned to thinking that being in an emotionally abusive relationship is OK, if they are related to you.

Be respectful, be kind, but you absolutely do not have to be tolerant.
It’s so easy to teach her these things but so much harder to teach them to myself.
I recently experienced a situation in which I knew I needed to speak up. I was being taken advantage of, and while I don’t think this person meant to do so, it was still happening and still hurting.
I was honestly so afraid to address my concerns that I was willing to continue to allow myself to hurt just so I didn’t lose this person.

With some encouragement from that same pushy editor, I spoke my truth about what was bothering me.
Thankfully, it was an amazing conversation and we are now closer than ever.
I was able to address a situation and stand my ground. It’s amazing the impact saying, “this truly hurts my feelings” can do.

As children we’re taught to speak up and let someone know when they’re hurt our feelings but when do we unlearn this? When do we reach that level as adults when we’re supposed to let it roll like water off a duck’s back?
Sometimes I don’t want to be that duck!
What if I want to be the duck that bites you on the rear and chases you back to the car?

Unfortunately I’m also facing a situation with someone that I know won’t end well. They’ll forever be in my life but I’m learning I must limit interaction with them to preserve my own mental health and relationship with Christ.

I’m learning to let that be OK; to be a different kind of duck.
So, here’s to trying to not be the duck that lets it slide, but also not be the duck that attacks people.
Maybe I can be the duck that walks in the other direction, away from the toxic waters that can harm me.
Here’s to not letting others make you go “quackers.”

This column first appeared in The Bolivar Commercial.

Inkling by Kenneth Oppel

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Release date: Nov 6, 2018
Enter Inkling. Inkling begins life in Mr. Rylance's sketchbook. But one night the ink of his drawings runs together--and then leaps off the page! This small burst of creativity is about to change everything.
Ethan finds him first. Inkling has absorbed a couple chapters of his math book--not good--and the story he's supposed to be illustrating for school--also not good. But Inkling's also started drawing the pictures to go with the story--which is amazing! It's just the help Ethan was looking for! Inkling helps the rest of the family too--for Sarah he's a puppy. And for Dad he's a spark of ideas for a new graphic novel. It's exactly what they all want. 
It's not until Inkling goes missing that this family has to face the larger questions of what they--and Inkling--truly need.

There will be spoilers in this review. 

A quick summary:

The Rylance family is stuck. Dad's got writer's block. Ethan promised to illustrate a group project at school--even though he can't draw. Sarah's still pining for a puppy. And they all miss Mom. So much more than they can say.

From Goodreads. 

The Set Up:

We open with the cat. I immediately love Rickman, who is the first to discover Inkling. Because we can see this fun personality of the cat and we’re immediately introduced to this world where the thoughts of a cat are logical, I’m able to jump on board with a blob of ink coming off of the pages of a sketchbook. There was much world building necessary here, but the author creates a sense of place and I have no issue believing anything Rickman wants to tell me.

What stood out:

These characters are relatable to middle grade readers but at the same time, introducing them to ideas they might not see in their own everyday lives. For example, not every child has a sibling with Down Syndrome or even might know someone with Down Syndrome. Ethan describes his sister as, “Sarah had Down Syndrome, and there were lots of things that were still mysteries to her, like why you couldn’t just eat ice cream whenever you wanted.”

Sarah is a hilarious character and calls Rickman “Icklan” and wants Inkling to be a dog so badly she calls him Lucy.

Through Ethan’s love for his sister,  and her sweet yet silly nature, readers easily fall in love with her and learn about the many important and wonderful things people with Down Syndrome are blessed with. I feel it's incredibly important for middle grader readers to be exposed to characters that don't necessarily look like them or the people they are surrounded with. 

One particular section that stood out was, “Here was the thing about a Sarah hug. It was a real embrace. There was nothing half-hearted about it. Her soft arms folded around your neck, and she pressed her cheek against yours and smushed her body against you, and you felt like you’d just won the most amazing prize. And you couldn’t help grinning.” I love Sarah.

I also thoroughly enjoyed the illustrates placed throughout the book. Because this was an ARC, only some of those illustrations were visible, however all of the ones I could see were fun sketches much like what I imagine Mr. Rylance creating in his comics.

Several times throughout the book I made a note that Oppel described scary characters (Blotter) and scary situations in a way that kept me turning the pages in an anxious frenzy, but definitely wasn’t too much for a younger reader. Blotter is super creepy and bubbles with anger from eating way too many violent comic books. Inkling is afraid of him and so am I. 

Oppel brings these fears to life by giving both Blotter and Inkling the power to hurt our human characters in a very real way, cutting off their air flow. We learn in the beginning with Inkling covers Ethan’s face that the ink can cut off Ethan’s airflow. Inkling is of course sorry for hurting his friend but later, when Blotter is freed and they are trying to run away from him, this same thing happens, leaving readers on the edge of the page as we are left with “All he could think was, breathe, breathe. But he couldn’t.”

Discussion Topics:

The death of a parent
I appreciated the discussion of the death of a parent. Rather than is be a giant hug fest, Oppel allows his characters to experience grief in several ways. From Sarah's inability to understand, their dad's complete withdrawal into his self, and Ethan trying to fix everything, readers see grief they can identify with. 

Owning your decisions and doing the right thing
Even though Ethan and his dad could keep Inkling and Blotter to create books that would obviously bring them wealth, the family takes ownership for allowing Inkling to do some of their work. Both Ethan and his dad admit to their mistakes of cheating on homework and on book writing. It was refreshing to see characters realize their wrong doings and make amends. In the end, they also help others see the importance of not only owning your mistakes, but learning how to do something by yourself, a great lesson for middle grade readers. 

I won't spoil anymore but I will say I rate this book 4.8/5.

Have you read Inkling? I'd love to hear your thoughts!

To purchase Inkling go here!

To learn more about Kenneth Oppel and his awesomeness go here and here! 

This Mega House

Berit has a book called The Little House that we love to read before bed. It tells the story of Little House when it was built in the 1800s and up to the point when it was surrounded by skyscrapers. 

Little House is sad because it can’t watch the stars anymore and everyone rushes by. It also can’t smell the apple trees. 

Eventually, the great great great granddaughter finds Little House and because it was so well built she’s able to move it back to the country. 

Little House is happy again because it can enjoy the slow life. 

I get attached to my homes and like to think of them as Little House. 

When we moved from our tiny rental into our home on South Leflore we named it Mega House. 

It was huge! Just like me actually, because I was 7 months pregnant at the time. 

Our house belonged to the late Dorothy Shawhan, former Delta State English professor, author, and so many other wonderful titles. 

She held her last class of each semester on her screened in porch filled with plants. 

I took her for creative fiction and non fiction so those classes consisted of reading our work.

She was always encouraging, even when my writing was trash. 

I like to think of Mega House as quiet and calm during those days. 

It soaked in the stories told and the stories she wrote in her living room surrounded by books. 

It kept her warm and safe and comforted. 

Mega House was very well read. 

A few years after I graduated I had the opportunity to interview Ms. Dorothy in the living room of Mega House for Spotlight

magazine. 

She told me about her writing process and what she loved most when reading. 

She gave me an autographed copy of Lizzie and once again told me how much she enjoyed seeing my byline. 

After she passed, Mega House became available. 

At the time we weren’t able to buy a home so I watched as the for sale sign changed to sold. 

But then, with a baby coming way sooner than we were ready for, another for sale sign appeared in the yard of Mega House. 

We cried and prayed and toured and prayed and cried again. 

Eventually, Brett and I sat in the floor of Mega House, with not even close to enough furniture to fill it, and were giddy. 

It was unthinkable that we could own something so special. So amazing. 

I think Mega House stretched its wooden bones and woke up that day. 

It had much to be excited for with a new baby and new adventures. 

We painted and cleaned, swept, and laughed. 

I placed Lizzie on a stand in the dining room, a treasure to both myself and Mega House. 

I think Mega House laughed too, and showed that when the ginkgo tree once again produced bright yellow foliage after having been dormant since Ms. Dorothy left. 

Mega House was excited!

In the middle of the night it comforted a tired mom during nursing sessions. 

In the day it held strong to the sticky notes of prayer placed all over the walls for that same anxious new mom. 

Months later when little hands and feet began to explore the floors I like to think Mega House provided a little extra cushion for some of those falls. 

Mega House gave us our first Christmas, our first bath, our first steps. 

Mega House laughed as we held celebrations, danced, sang, and played. 

Mega House kept us safe when we were sick or scared, and recently gave us that same cushion when we fell to our knees in prayer during a difficult season in our lives. 

I’ve never done something as hard as packing up Mega House. 

I think Mega House cried along with me I packed up our memories, swept the floors, and ran my fingers across the place where my baby took her first steps for the very last time.

We went room to room and said goodbye to Mega House. 

We mentioned a favorite memory for each room and it wasn’t difficult to think of many reasons to smile in each and every area of our home. 

We sat on the porch and everyone cried when we closed the door to Mega House one last time. 

I know people say a house is not a home and what matters are the people, but after loving and living in Mega House I have to disagree. 

Mega House loved us too. 

Mega House laughed and played with us, it protected us, it listened to our stories. 

We left Mega House and moved into Fancy House— a newborn home that will grow with Berit through the years. 

While I look forward to the memories to come, pieces of our family member are here. 

One of the doors removed during renovations sits in the living room corner with a wreath. 

The brick we used to prop open the swinging kitchen doors is on a shelf in my bedroom. 

We won’t ever forget Mega House  

I’d like to believe Mega House won’t forget us either. 

Love you, thank you, amen

When I visit other churches I find myself people watching a great deal more than if I’m at my normal church. 

It might be because I know the people around me. I know the mayor and his wife are to my right on the second row. 

I know Ms. Kay is behind me and if I can’t figure out the hymn I can use her as a guide. 

Now, as we church hop and visit, I’m seeing so many different types of worship. Last week we visited a church where the pastor spoke quickly and to the point. 

With little transition he dove right into the service and the morning was wrapped up with everyone reciting a prayer about the love of God. It was a bit long and very detailed, a major change from what I’m used to saying. 

This past Sunday we visited a church that, due to remodeling, was in an elementary school. 

After dropping Nana off we walked into the gym, which has been turned into what reminded me of a rock concert. 

There were flashing lights, drums and guitars, and even smoke.

I couldn’t help but people watch.  

This crowd was so diverse. 

People of every age, color, and background absolutely filled the gym to a point where there were no open seats left. 

A creature of habit, I took the second row to be close to the action. 

From there I had a good view of the band and other leaders in the church. 

As the music continued, I looked to my left where I saw the pastor. 

His hands were in the air and he was sobbing as he sang along 

“Now on my heart this word is written, forgiven, forgiven.”

So many people had their hands in the air, some were crying, and a lot were smiling. 

Photo by Vertical Church

The sermon was great, left me with something to think about, and even had an app where I could follow along to take notes. 

Later in the afternoon, I got a text message from one of my favorite FUMC tweens showing me a photo of a recent Bible journal entry. 

Her prayer and praise was as simple as could be: “love you! Thank you! Amen!”

I’ve seen so many different ways to worship God over the last two weeks but I think this tween’s was my favorite. 

Not to say the others weren’t genuinely beautiful displays of worship, but there was something so innocent and loving about this simple prayer. 

How often do we get wrapped up in what we say, being politically correct, dressing right, or finding that perfect scripture when in reality, all God wants is exactly what this little girl gave Him?

I hope to remember that the next time I struggle to find the right words in a prayer or wonder if I’m worshipping as well as those around me.

I love you. 

Thank you. 

Amen.

A fist full of change and a heart of gold

I write about my daughter Berit often but there is another little one in my life that is just as important.
Many of you know I was the nanny to a little boy named Charlie during my senior year of college.
I continued to babysit him every day and soon the Sappingtons were my family.
From dinners to spending the nights to playing in MeMaw's yard, I was always welcome at their home and table.

Now, that little boy is not so little and stands tall at 8-years-old with a love for Spiderman, pizza, and comic books.Charlie calls Berit his sister and loves her better than any big brother ever could. 
I've had the blessing of seeing sweet Charlie grow into a very kind person over the last 8 years and yesterday was no different.

As a picked him up from his house for Vacation Bible School, he walked outside and asked, "Can we go to Andy's?"
Andy's is the convenience store right down from his house and across from the DSU Library.
I had that "no" on the tip of my tongue.
No not today.
No not this time.
No, we've got to go to VBS, aren't you excited?

But I realized Charlie hadn't finished his sentence.
"Can we go to Andy's so I can give money to the children with cancer?"
I literally put my hand to my chest because I was so taken aback at what he said.
His grandmother said, "He's been going by every single day."
With a fistful of change and a dollar bill from his grandfather, we were off.

Normally, I'd expect to go in a store with a little kid and be asked to buy a dozen different snacks.
However, Charlie said he could handle it on his own so I watched this sweet 8 year old get out of the car, walk to the door and take the time to stop and speak to another little boy in a baseball uniform.
He held open the door for them, high fived the boy, then went inside.
It only took a moment.

He didn't purchase anything with the money and gave it all to the charity cup that sits on the counter in the store before coming back to the car and asking that I play "You're Welcome" by Dwayne Johnson from Moana so we could sing loudly.
We jammed all the way to VBS but I thought more about his heart and how kind his gesture was.

As I think back on how sweet that act of kindness was, and the many others he's done in just 8 years of life I'm absolutely inspired.
I learned long ago that he was named Charlie because, "Charlie just sounds like someone that you would want to be your friend."
I couldn't think of truer words.

I absolutely want Charlie as my friend and I'm blessed that he's my bestest friend and favoritist person and I'm his.

As adults, I think we forget how easy it is to be kind as we go through the motions of life.
How easy it is to grab a few nickels from your car for the donation cup at the convenience store.
And how a single high-five as you walk through a door can change someone's entire day.
So, as I finish out the rest of my week, I pray I can be just like my friend Charlie.

Giving. Loving. And the bestest friend.

This first appeared in The Bolivar Commercial.