A Thankful Tribute

This photo of Bruce and I was taken at a writer's conference in May 2016. 

I'd just won an award for work that this gentleman, among others, encouraged me to produce. 

I was amazed and more than a little thrilled ... and Bruce was just as excited.

His unselfish character allowed him to genuinely rejoice over the success of his friends.

He passed away this weekend after a courageous battle with cancer.

During his last weeks, many friends and colleagues joined in a card and 

letter-writing campaign to send words of encouragement. 

But I procrastinated—a writer who couldn't come up with the right words when it 

mattered most—and my message didn't reach him in time.

I truly regret that mistake and pray it will leave an eternal mark that will 

press me to speak my heart words in a more timely manner. 

If you're reading this today and you've held important words inside for what 

might be too long ... don't.

Included below is the message I finally penned for Bruce in 

the hope that it will be an appropriate tribute. 

Dear Bruce,

    I know it’s almost Halloween, so if this Thanksgiving card makes you laugh—good! I don’t much like Halloween anyway. A Thanksgiving card is so much more appropriate because you, my friend, are one of the blessings its verse mentions.

  Before I joined Word Weavers, the idea of writing was wriggling around in my heart, often pushed aside by doubt and fear. One Sunday morning, our pastor invited us to ask God any question and wait for an answer. With everyone else, I transcribed a question on a tiny slip of paper. “Am I a writer?” I folded it six or seven times, put it in the basket, and wondered how God would answer; and yes, I wondered if He would answer.

  Not long after that, I contacted Word Weavers and met their tech specialist, Bruce Brady. Through you, He answered my question—YES. Since then, He’s spoken through you (over and over) as you’ve partnered with me in a laughter-laced writing friendship. “Keep writing, girl,” you say, and I hear echoes of His voice.

  Thank you, Bruce, for speaking life to my frail dream and throwing in a great friendship to boot. We have SO many reasons to give thanks. 

Susan 

Napping Angel

A little nap is such a sweet luxury. 

My grandma used to indulge in a midmorning nap after making, serving, 

and clearing a huge farmhouse breakfast. She'd say, 

"Why don't you get me a cup of tea, Suzy?"

After receiving her tea and stirring it a while, she'd set it on a side table 

and nod off for just a few minutes. 

Steaming tea and a doze in the chair—precious passed-down traditions. 

* Napping angel birdbath found on an outing in Old Louisville.

Emerging

An unsuspecting luna moth caterpillar made its slow and deliberate way across our front yard. 

The black suitcase he scaled happened to be one of the left-behind items in the yard sale we 

attempt every five years or so, and his bright green color was eye-grabbing.

 A glass vase topped with some leftover door screen made the perfect spontaneous terrarium.

Wrapping itself in maple leaves and sticky silk, it constructed a cocoon by 

nightfall the same day, and the watching and waiting began. In all honesty, 

I gave up seeing the miracle of metamorphosis; sure that my

fumbling attempt to capture  transformation  in a glass vase would fail.

But about two weeks later ...

The day it emerged, we celebrated like children—the ones we truly are on the inside— and 

made an event of setting it free.

The left-behind chrysalis contained the dried, discolored bits of the caterpillar's body. 

The moth emerged with everything it needed for success in its glorious new life.

And someday ... so shall we. 

Uncommon

An odd thing happens to me, pretty frequently—

people mistake me for someone else.

I know it's probably happening when I get that first "double-take" glance. 

 But when a perfect stranger sends a probing gaze directly into my face

and takes hesitant steps in my direction,

it's for sure—another false reunion is about to go down:

Excuse me, but did you deal cards in Vegas?

Have you ever lived in Tennessee?

Aunt Kay ... is that you?

And my favorite: 

Were you a judge, because you look exactly like the one who sent me to jail. 

I'd love to answer, "Well, yes!" just to see what would happen.

Instead, I've always tried to ease the flustered embarrassment that results from my no—

"Don't worry, it happens all the time. I'm common looking." 

It happened again at a recent writer's conference, 

but this time, the words stuck in my throat.

 We truly are unique in the Father's eyes—

created, loved, and valued.

I may be one among many that look crazily similar, 

but He knows my name.

* Photos of my Black-Eyed Susans, which really do seem 

to look exactly the same.