I challenged the kids to set aside some time each day this summer to write. Writing is a wonderful way to process our thoughts. It used to feel like a form of torture. I'm not sure when it stopped feeling that way. Now, if I could, I'd write all day.
The kids and Trevor were gone the other day and I had a large chunk of uninterrupted time on the horizon. I also had this memory of a commitment I'd made to Tate that had been haunting me for weeks. So the commitment and the time on my hands made a deal. I scoured my old journals and notebooks for the bits and pieces of notes I'd jotted in the margins the past 3 years. These notes were for the book I promised Tate we'd write and illustrate together. I took the ripped out pages, my Bible, paper, pen and a bottle of water and climbed up on our roof. (The thought was that the view would be inspiration for creativity.)
Reading through my past scribbles, there was some pretty good stuff! I didn't use any of it. I tucked it all away in the notebook pocket. Empty lined paper sat in my lap and I closed my eyes. I wanted to go back to the moments when the idea was first given and remember the impact it had on my heart. I asked God for help, creativity and ability.
I'm not sure how long it took. It must have been a while because my water was gone and Ellie was home from picking asparagus and the book was done.
So, now Tate's filling his first days of summer break with creating the book's illustrations. When they're complete, we'll be seeking to have it published. Going for it!
