So, I'm back. I like saving the best for last, so I'll give you the things I wasn't so hot on first.
1. I strongly feel that the First Chapter contest needs to divide the genres better. Someone told me there were 80 YA entries, and there were only like 160 entries in the whole contest. That's simple math but for those of you that don't feel like figuring it out--that means half of all entries were in the YA genre, and yes, that's craziness. That means that those judges were reading until their eyes were blurry and red. Which brings me to my second point.
2. Four judges like my stuff pretty well. I'm not even going to pretend that I would have won the contest if it weren't for judge number five. But that guy really irritates. I entered twice and both times four of the judges gave me a score in the 30's. The top score is a perfect 40. I received a 39 and a 38. On that same entry, I scored a 22 from judge number 5. It was basically the same for my other entry, except on the one, he gave me an 18. Everything the other judges told me they loved, he ripped up and told me was terrible. There's one line in my Sarah story where she describes Ethan, the boy she has a crush on, as having eyes the same shade as a melted Hershey bar. Mind you, I've had about 10 to 15 people read this story and I think almost all of them said they loved that line. Guess what? You got it. Judge number five specifically singled that out and told me it was bad and I shouldn't be so cliche. It has to be a man. A very tired man at that because not only did he hate my stuff, he renamed one of my characters in his comments. Funny thing is, he must have just gotten finished reading my friend's First chapter because he used the protagonist's brother's name from her story, instead of the name I had for the main character's brother. All I'm saying is, you can't expect judges to read that many entries and actually do a good job on their feedback.
3. I wanted more classes on technical writing. I'm not a beginner. I'm an intermediate. I need more technical writing help. I don't need help on deciding what genre I'm in. I don't need help on coming up with villian ideas. I know some people do. But not me. There were a few classes, like Laura Rennert's 'How to ace the audition,' that were so very helpful. I was hoping all the classes would be like that.
4. I loved Bootcamp BUT I was a little frustrated that I went all the way to Utah hoping to find other people who wrote the same stuff I write (LDS, message driven, teen stuff) and I didn't meet a single person. Not one. And I can't believe I'm the only person there who writes that kind of stuff. I was at a bootcamp table with people who wrote paranormal, fantasy, teenage angst for the national market, and women's fiction. It was fine, but it would have been better if we'd all been at tables with other writer's who wrote what we write.
Now, on to the good parts.
1. My pitch was awesome! Lisa Mangum was accompanied by DB's product manager, Chris Schoebinger. They were very down to earth and listened intently as I told them about my Sarah story. They were excited and we spent the full ten minutes filling every second feeling each other out to see if this was a good match. Lisa Mangum now has the first five pages, and I have a promise that she will read them and then email me to let me know what she thinks. Keep your fingers crossed that I'll see an email in my inbox with the subject line: Full MSS request.
2. My awesome friend Melanie J. introduced me to her editor, Eliza Nevin, of Covenant. Eliza handed me her card and told me I could submit straight to her. That's major.
3. Melanie J. also introduced me to Josi Kilpack who, I have to say, was so nice. She talked to me and my friend for about 20 minutes. I had heard some things earlier at the conference that left me feeling yucky about some things I was considering and Josi helped me clear them up. She and I have very similar goals for our writing and I felt like she understood my concerns and addressed them perfectly. Also, someone interupted us and asked for her autograph, and she said (very kindly), you'll have to wait until I'm done here.
4. Bootcamp (besides the fact that the other writers at my table were from different genres) was by far the best part of the conference. Michelle Paige Holmes--2007 Whitney Award recipient for Best Romance--was my bootcamp instructor. Love her. She pitched to a national agent while she was at the conference and that agent requested her first five chapters. So keep an eye out for her books.
5. Anita Stansfield. She is the most successful female LDS writer of all time (I think). I spotted her in a chair and asked if I could sit and talk with her. She was so gracious, she spent 20 minutes telling me about her journey in the industry. She told me to tell my grandmother (her biggest fan) hello, and she gave me a copy of her book, Reflections, with a personalized autograph. I can't say enough about how awesome she was. Just fabulous. Just like I always thought she would be. It's nice to meet someone famous (or LDS-famous) and find out that they really are as great as you built them up to be in your mind.
6. The very best part--being there with my friend M.H. I was an anxious mess and I think I would have needed medication if I hadn't had her by my side. I couldn't relax and my heart beat faster than hooves in the homestretch of a horse race. For three days straight. Also, I completely lost my appetite and had to force myself to eat. I wouldn't be surprised if I lost a couple of pounds. Also, the sweating. I know, TMI, but I'm going to tell you anyway. I could be freezing, and sweating at the same time. That's how anxious I was. No matter that I'd anticipated this problem and bought clinical strength deoderant. It was no match for my Taco Pits. Funny thing is, M.H. said she was at least that bad the whole time, too. We practically fell into a coma when we got on the plane to come home, we were so exhausted. We slept on the plane but talked and laughed the entire three hour drive back to Christiansburg. If you know M.H. ask her about A-LAME-A. It probably won't be that funny to you, but I was laughing so hard my ribs and stomach hurt.
I do have to say that this was the easiest trip ever as far as travel. Every flight arrived early. Yesterday, M.H. and I were prepared for our three hour layover in Dallas, but we weren't excited about it. When the plane landed in Texas, we made our way over to our next gate, trying to decide how to kill our time. I realized that they were boarding right then for an earlier flight to Charlotte. I walked up and asked if there were any extra seats, and if we could take this earlier flight. Guess what? They had two open seats. We hopped on after being in the airport for less than twenty minutes and flew home. Instead of getting home at 2 am, we got home at midnight. Also, we stopped at Mimi's cafe in Charlotte because we hadn't eaten because of our 20 minute layover and we were starving. Not only was the manager super nice, he gave us each a free four pack of muffins (huge, delicious muffins) and fancy italian bottled water, and a bottle opener, so we could drink them on the way home.
I'm almost done. You want to know the very best part? Walking into my spotlessly clean house, kissing each of my sleeping kids on the cheek and snuggling up next to my hubby.
****** Amending this Post
My brain must be fried because I completely forgot to mention that I had a BLAST hanging with my cousin Etta. She was a wonderful host and I had way too much fun letting her rip my nose hairs off. If I can find my camera charger, I'll post a pic. I loved hanging with Cory, Tina, Macy, Ellie and Rec, too. Maybe we'll move to Evanston and I can do it all the time.
About Me
I’ve always loved telling stories. My favorite is the one where I sent the wrong letter to the right missionary. We were married the next summer. I attended LDS Business College where I earned an Associate’s in Computer Technology and Brigham Young University where I should have majored in English. I live in a small town nestled in the heart of the Appalachians. When I’m not busy writing, I can be found baking cookies, going to the movies, helping with the homework or catching fireflies with my handsome husband and four adorable children.
Monday, April 26, 2010
Monday, April 19, 2010
Big Week
I'll make this short because there's a lot going on at the Auten's this week.
1. Bryan is taking his Boards exam as I write.
2. I have an appointment with the cardiothoracic surgeon on Wednesday to see if he wants to remove part of my left lung. Scary.
3. I'm flying to Utah--husband and child free on Thursday. Wahoo! Sniffle, sniffle.
4. I'm pitching my book Putting Up Stars to Lisa Mangum of Deseret Book. (I need to work on that pitch and my summary some more.)
5. I'm doing bootcamp and I'm totally stoked! I just found out from Heather B. Moore that I will be at Michelle Holmes table. Sweet!
6. Bryan and I need to make a decision on whether we're going to take the job offer here in Christiansburg or if we want to move to the cold, windy, but awesome town of Evanston, Wyoming.
7. There's something else going on but for the life of me, I can't remember. Oh yeah, I have a ton of laundry to fold, dinners to put in the freezer for Bryan while I'm gone, and all the other endless tasks that are part of being Mom.
What is everyone else doing this week?
1. Bryan is taking his Boards exam as I write.
2. I have an appointment with the cardiothoracic surgeon on Wednesday to see if he wants to remove part of my left lung. Scary.
3. I'm flying to Utah--husband and child free on Thursday. Wahoo! Sniffle, sniffle.
4. I'm pitching my book Putting Up Stars to Lisa Mangum of Deseret Book. (I need to work on that pitch and my summary some more.)
5. I'm doing bootcamp and I'm totally stoked! I just found out from Heather B. Moore that I will be at Michelle Holmes table. Sweet!
6. Bryan and I need to make a decision on whether we're going to take the job offer here in Christiansburg or if we want to move to the cold, windy, but awesome town of Evanston, Wyoming.
7. There's something else going on but for the life of me, I can't remember. Oh yeah, I have a ton of laundry to fold, dinners to put in the freezer for Bryan while I'm gone, and all the other endless tasks that are part of being Mom.
What is everyone else doing this week?
Friday, April 16, 2010
Pitching
I'm not talking about baseball. I wish I were. I'm talking about this torturous thing writer's like to do to themselves. Pitching. To an agent or publisher. I've never done it before, but I'm about to. Next week--Thursday to be exact--I'm getting on a big old plane and flying across the country to attend a writer's conference. I'm not nervous about meeting a couple of hundred other writer's. Nope. I'm not nervous about the first chapter contest I entered, twice. Nope. I'm also not nervous about the bootcamp I've signed up for where I'm paying to let other writer's and a published author tear my work apart. That doesn't bother me in the slightest. I'm actually excited for that part.
The pitch is what's got me nervous.
I've payed to spend ten minutes with an editor for a certain publishing company so that I can pitch my book to her. I can write. I'm not worried about that. But I'm no salesman and basically that's what I need to be next week. So, I thought I'd put my pitch on here to see if anyone wanted to insert their two cents on what they think. Keep in mind--for those of you who've read my story--that a pitch is only suppose to give away the first 20-30 pages.
Would you want to read my book if I told you this:
Seventeen year old Sarah is tired of waiting. Waiting for her Dad to realize the mistake he made when he left her mom for another woman. Waiting for Ethan, her brother’s best friend, to see her as something other than a tagalong pal. And waiting to find out who put the glow-in-the-dark stars on her ceiling two years ago. So when, Justin Magnus, handsome quarterback of her school’s across-town rival, crosses her path, Sarah decides it’s time to liven things up.
Tear it up, guys. Tell me what you love, what you hate, etc. Writer friends--do you think it's too short?
**** Amended****
If you're just arriving, here is a second shot at my pitch. I like this one better, but oh my goodness the last line is killing me. I must have written it ten different ways!
Here it is:
Popular, cheerleader and latter day saint--seventeen year old Sarah is tired of waiting. Waiting for her Dad to realize the mistake he made when he left her mom for another woman. Waiting for Ethan, her brother’s best friend, to notice her. And waiting to find out who put the glow-in-the-dark stars on her ceiling two years ago. So, when, Justin Magnus, notorious bad boy and handsome quarterback of her school’s across-town rival, crosses her path, Sarah attempts to liven things up with a harmless dare—if his team wins the upcoming district football game, she’ll go on a date with him. There’s no way she could have known how that one action would leave her standing at a crossroads, and only she can decide which path to take.
The pitch is what's got me nervous.
I've payed to spend ten minutes with an editor for a certain publishing company so that I can pitch my book to her. I can write. I'm not worried about that. But I'm no salesman and basically that's what I need to be next week. So, I thought I'd put my pitch on here to see if anyone wanted to insert their two cents on what they think. Keep in mind--for those of you who've read my story--that a pitch is only suppose to give away the first 20-30 pages.
Would you want to read my book if I told you this:
Seventeen year old Sarah is tired of waiting. Waiting for her Dad to realize the mistake he made when he left her mom for another woman. Waiting for Ethan, her brother’s best friend, to see her as something other than a tagalong pal. And waiting to find out who put the glow-in-the-dark stars on her ceiling two years ago. So when, Justin Magnus, handsome quarterback of her school’s across-town rival, crosses her path, Sarah decides it’s time to liven things up.
Tear it up, guys. Tell me what you love, what you hate, etc. Writer friends--do you think it's too short?
**** Amended****
If you're just arriving, here is a second shot at my pitch. I like this one better, but oh my goodness the last line is killing me. I must have written it ten different ways!
Here it is:
Popular, cheerleader and latter day saint--seventeen year old Sarah is tired of waiting. Waiting for her Dad to realize the mistake he made when he left her mom for another woman. Waiting for Ethan, her brother’s best friend, to notice her. And waiting to find out who put the glow-in-the-dark stars on her ceiling two years ago. So, when, Justin Magnus, notorious bad boy and handsome quarterback of her school’s across-town rival, crosses her path, Sarah attempts to liven things up with a harmless dare—if his team wins the upcoming district football game, she’ll go on a date with him. There’s no way she could have known how that one action would leave her standing at a crossroads, and only she can decide which path to take.
Tuesday, April 13, 2010
The Best Medicine
This morning I drove 45 minutes to a doctor's appointment. When I reached the receptionist desk, she informed me that my appointment was yesterday. That's right. I even wrote it on the calendar. I wrote it WRONG. I do stuff like that all the time. (But I can blame it on the fact that I almost bled to death a few years ago) Do you know what I did when I walked out of there? Laughed. And I've been laughing ever since. I can't stop.
Do you ever have those days? Everything is funny. I'm laughing at things that would usually really rankle me.
-The dog peed on the carpet, only I thought the ammonia-like smell was coming from a new indoor palm tree my husband purchased. So I let the pee stay on the carpet for a week before hubby finally figured it out. Gross. But it's kind of funny.
-The movie I saw last night. The Last Song, starring Miley Cyrus. I loved it, but that girl's teeth need serious help. Usually, I'm not the kind of person who laughs at stuff like that. I'm certainly not perfect looking. But today, it's hysterical.
-I need to go listen to my messages so the machine doesn't pick up on the second ring. But I'm too lazy. So anytime someone calls, it goes straight to voice mail. That's not even funny. But I'm laughing.
-My jeans. They won't stay up. My belt doesn't look right with this shirt, so I took my belt off and every five seconds I have to pull my pants up.
I'm punch drunk. Apparently, I didn't get enough sleep last night. I was up too late watching Miley smile the night away. Maybe tomorrow I'll be able to be a serious, mature adult again.
Do you ever have those days? Everything is funny. I'm laughing at things that would usually really rankle me.
-The dog peed on the carpet, only I thought the ammonia-like smell was coming from a new indoor palm tree my husband purchased. So I let the pee stay on the carpet for a week before hubby finally figured it out. Gross. But it's kind of funny.
-The movie I saw last night. The Last Song, starring Miley Cyrus. I loved it, but that girl's teeth need serious help. Usually, I'm not the kind of person who laughs at stuff like that. I'm certainly not perfect looking. But today, it's hysterical.
-I need to go listen to my messages so the machine doesn't pick up on the second ring. But I'm too lazy. So anytime someone calls, it goes straight to voice mail. That's not even funny. But I'm laughing.
-My jeans. They won't stay up. My belt doesn't look right with this shirt, so I took my belt off and every five seconds I have to pull my pants up.
I'm punch drunk. Apparently, I didn't get enough sleep last night. I was up too late watching Miley smile the night away. Maybe tomorrow I'll be able to be a serious, mature adult again.
Friday, April 9, 2010
Jinxed
Not kidding. I'm serious. Today, I open the mailbox and there it is. The dreaded rejection letter. But I must have meant what I said in my blog yesterday, because I really am okay. I'm figuring out what my next move needs to be and I'm looking forward to the writer's conference next week where I can get a little more insight on what the LDS YA market is looking like right now.
On a good note--the acquisitions editor said that I am a very talented writer and write a very intriguing story. But their publishing schedule is very competitive and that they were not in a position to pursue this project with me at this time.
I don't really know what the heck any of that means. BUT, I have a face to face pitch session with one of the Deseret Book editors at the writer's conference. And I plan on asking them every single question I can possibly fit into ten minutes. I'll get this whole publishing thing figured out.
One thing that made me feel really good. My husband was shocked. Truly and completely--mouth dropping to the floor (or so it sounded)--knocked out of his seat--SHOCKED! He said, "I wasn't even anticipating a rejection. I thought for sure they would want it." And really, while I'm still not published, that means more to me than anything. Can't wait to hug him tonight when he gets home from Texas.
Moving on.
On a good note--the acquisitions editor said that I am a very talented writer and write a very intriguing story. But their publishing schedule is very competitive and that they were not in a position to pursue this project with me at this time.
I don't really know what the heck any of that means. BUT, I have a face to face pitch session with one of the Deseret Book editors at the writer's conference. And I plan on asking them every single question I can possibly fit into ten minutes. I'll get this whole publishing thing figured out.
One thing that made me feel really good. My husband was shocked. Truly and completely--mouth dropping to the floor (or so it sounded)--knocked out of his seat--SHOCKED! He said, "I wasn't even anticipating a rejection. I thought for sure they would want it." And really, while I'm still not published, that means more to me than anything. Can't wait to hug him tonight when he gets home from Texas.
Moving on.
Thursday, April 8, 2010
Patience
Seriously. 22 weeks. Six months. 154 days.*(Don't comment on my math skills. I know I'm probably wrong on one of these, but you get the picture!) What difference does it make? It's all the same. What am I babbling about? How long it's been since I sent in a query letter and three chapters of my book to Deseret Book. I know I shouldn't complain and it probably means they are taking a serious look at my work. Either that or my package got lost in the mail and I've been waiting all this time for nothing. Either way, I'm going a little insane.
I know I shouldn't complain, jinx myself, or wish for something I don't really want, so I'm going to be careful with my next sentence. I would just like to know something. Whether that something is rejection, or a request for the full manuscript, I NEED some closure on this agnonizing journey. And yes, I have emailed to check and see if they at least got my query. All I got back was a generic email that stated, "We are currently reviewing manuscripts submitted in November. Thank you for your patience." Hey, that's the month I submitted!
I received that email over a month ago.
Do you know what this is like? Every day I open my mailbox, I think, "Today could be the day." Every time the phone rings, or I check my email. Let me just tell you, it makes the days creep by. But I will say this--it seems that anything really good in life, takes time and patience. Like babies. Isn't it mind-numbing, the amount of time it takes for that baby to be ready to come out and greet the world? Or when my hubby got hired to be a Professional Firefighter--it was something he wanted so bad, and therefore, I too, wanted it. It took nine months from beginning to end. But he got it. Then the application process to vet school--that was another something we both wanted really bad--seven months later, we finally found out-He was in.
I guess what I'm saying is--I may open the mailbox tomorrow and get a rejection, but I'll be okay.
Because everything good in life takes patience.
I know I shouldn't complain, jinx myself, or wish for something I don't really want, so I'm going to be careful with my next sentence. I would just like to know something. Whether that something is rejection, or a request for the full manuscript, I NEED some closure on this agnonizing journey. And yes, I have emailed to check and see if they at least got my query. All I got back was a generic email that stated, "We are currently reviewing manuscripts submitted in November. Thank you for your patience." Hey, that's the month I submitted!
I received that email over a month ago.
Do you know what this is like? Every day I open my mailbox, I think, "Today could be the day." Every time the phone rings, or I check my email. Let me just tell you, it makes the days creep by. But I will say this--it seems that anything really good in life, takes time and patience. Like babies. Isn't it mind-numbing, the amount of time it takes for that baby to be ready to come out and greet the world? Or when my hubby got hired to be a Professional Firefighter--it was something he wanted so bad, and therefore, I too, wanted it. It took nine months from beginning to end. But he got it. Then the application process to vet school--that was another something we both wanted really bad--seven months later, we finally found out-He was in.
I guess what I'm saying is--I may open the mailbox tomorrow and get a rejection, but I'll be okay.
Because everything good in life takes patience.
Saturday, April 3, 2010
Triumphs
Warning: I have a thousand thoughts running through my brain, so just bare with me--I think I can pull it together.
There are two wards here where I live. Christiansburg and Blacksburg. I live in C'burg. My brother lives in B'burg. Lucky, huh? I know, don't be jealous, because he's a fantastic brother. Our two wards have combined youth activities, including scouts. So this week was spring break in Montgomery county and thus, it is the week that the scouts do their fifty-miler. This is a great place to live and be a scout--because you get to hike on the amazing Appalachian trail. It's gorgeous,--green rolling hills that dip down into dogwood blooming covered valleys. To top it off, the weather was unbelieveable this week. Seventy to eighty degrees, which is so much better than the freezing thirties they could have had.
Let me tell you a little about my nephew, my brother's oldest. With his birth, I entered a new phase in my life--Aunthood. I was at BYU when he was born. I remember it like it was yesterday. Super bowl Sunday. I raced down the freeway, antsy to hold that cute baby boy. He was such a great baby and has grown into such a great kid. He's got this shock of orangey-red hair and a sweet smile, a spread of freckles on his nose, and pale white skin. He's wicked smart, and still gives me hugs every time he sees me even though he's thirteen. He loves video games, and reading, Legos, and donettes covered in chocolate wax. Just a great kid.
But he's no hiker.
I thought of him a few times this week, wondering how he was holding up on that fifty mile hike. Every year, they've had a few boys just quit and go home and I didn't want this to happen to my nephew.
On Thursday, my husband took some time off school, along with one of my writer friend's husbands and they joined the hikers. I wasn't worried about my husband, even though he's been having trouble with his back. He's a hard core outdoor guy. Fifty miles is nothing for him. But I was still worried about Nephew. On the flip side, I felt a little better that Nephew and Husband would be together.
My Writer Friend (who I will now refer to as WF) informed me that she'd like to park at the end and hike up to meet her hubby but was worried about hiking with four kids alone. So I told her "I'll go with you and we can take eight kids!" I know--we're crazy, but I'd been wanting to hike with her for some time, and I knew we could do it.
As we were driving there, Husband calls on his cell and says, "Where are you? My water ran out a long time ago,"--not good as the temp has risen above ninety--"drive like the wind!" So we hurried. I realized that if he was thirsty, every one else was probably thirsty too. We stuffed all the kids pockets, a fanny pack and every spare hand, with a water bottle and headed up this awesome hike called, "Dragon's Tooth."
Maybe a half mile in we see the first of the crew. They looked haggard, but so happy to be almost done. I felt myself tearing up with a swell of pride. "Your husband isn't too far back," a friend said, so off we went again. Sure enough, here comes Husband, with a walking stick in each hand. I can tell his back hurts and he just wants to get to the bottom. "How far back is Nephew?," I asked him. "He's behind me somewhere," is all he says. I kiss him on the cheek and send him on his way. I look back to see my daughter heading back with him. I smile.
Not more then two minutes later, I see a lone scout scuffling down the hill. It shocked me a little to see a kid alone and I thought, "That's a brave one." I didn't recognize him at first but when we got closer, I realized, it's Nephew.
I yelled his name and ran up to him. He grinned at me real wide and I hugged him. He looked about ten pounds skinnier, but his sparkly eyes were just the same--well, with a nice sunburn on his neck. I hug him and tell him how proud of him I am. But I can tell he just wants to get to the bottom and collapse, so I give him a sentence or two of encouragement and send him on his way. I look back to see my son walking back with him. My kids are dropping out like flies, but it makes me happy that they've chosen to be with these people they love. Two kids left. One is hiking merrily along with his six year old buddy, the other--my toddler--is resting on my hip.
We keep hiking, trying to find WF's husband. We pass scout after scout and each time we ask if they know where her husband is. We get all kinds of different time estimates, so we keep walking. By now the sun has set and we know we need to turn back because it will be hard in the dark on the rocky terrain, with all these kids, even with flashlights. We push it as far as we can and then we leave four water bottles (the rest were consumed by the cute children hiking with us). We write a message in the dirt, with an arrow pointing to the water bottles and we hope they find them. As we head back, WF finishes regaling me with the next book in her trilogy, which I'm listening to with rapt attention. (It's going to be awesome--romance, action, bad guys, good guys) We reach the bottom in no time and the sunlight is fading. I realize that I carried a toddler the entire up-hill mile and back down again and it never really phazed me. Go P90X!
We stand around for a while with all the other mom's and wives but WF's husband is still not down. I think about leaving, but everyone is so supportive of each group that arrives--taking pictures and cheering--that I feel like it's important to stay so that every hiker has that kind of welcome. Because really, how anti-climactic would that be to hike that far only to be welcomed by one or two people.
We finally get word (by cell phone) that WF's hubby's group are at least past the water bottles, because they got them and say, "Tell whoever left them, that they are angels. They saved us!" I get a little teary eyed again.
Finally, forty or so minutes later, we see tiny little lights, dancing in the night, coming in our direction. WF's kids dart up to see if it's their dad and of course it is. A shout of cheering goes up and everyone is so happy. I'm happy we stayed, even though my kids are dirty and exhausted.
I realized that if any of those boys had quit, they would have felt like failures. But for the first time ever (or so I was told) not a single boy dropped out. Nephew admitted to me, "Aunt Sue-Sue (yes, my brother has trained all his kids to call me that), "I cried hard, four times." But that was okay. Did it make me any less proud of him. No. If it wasn't hard, it wouldn't have given him such a sense of accomplishment. One of the leaders asked if he would hike again next year and he said, "Yes." What would he have felt if he'd quit? Well, like a quitter. I'm going to get sappy now. It is easter, and conference weekend, after all. I love my Savior, Jesus Christ. When I think life is too hard, I just remind myself that He has never quit on me and I can never quit on Him. He didn't suffer so I could quit and it would all be for naught. That Atonement is for all of us who are determined to push through even when we twist our spiritual ankles, or our back hurts, or we have blisters, or we throw our hands up and cry.
Don't. Ever. Quit.
At ten o'clock we pulled into Nephew's driveway. He heaved his bag, and 'Ted' his trusty fifty-miler walking stick, out of the car and scuffled up the stairs. I watched from the street as he rang the doorbell. His mom threw the door open and the look on her face was priceless. Her smile was huge and beaming. She couldn't have been any prouder than the day she graduated from medical school. She pulled him into her arms and squeezed him tight. I couldn't hear what she was saying but I could see how proud she was. And, well, she should be. He didn't quit.
I wiped away another tear.
There are two wards here where I live. Christiansburg and Blacksburg. I live in C'burg. My brother lives in B'burg. Lucky, huh? I know, don't be jealous, because he's a fantastic brother. Our two wards have combined youth activities, including scouts. So this week was spring break in Montgomery county and thus, it is the week that the scouts do their fifty-miler. This is a great place to live and be a scout--because you get to hike on the amazing Appalachian trail. It's gorgeous,--green rolling hills that dip down into dogwood blooming covered valleys. To top it off, the weather was unbelieveable this week. Seventy to eighty degrees, which is so much better than the freezing thirties they could have had.
Let me tell you a little about my nephew, my brother's oldest. With his birth, I entered a new phase in my life--Aunthood. I was at BYU when he was born. I remember it like it was yesterday. Super bowl Sunday. I raced down the freeway, antsy to hold that cute baby boy. He was such a great baby and has grown into such a great kid. He's got this shock of orangey-red hair and a sweet smile, a spread of freckles on his nose, and pale white skin. He's wicked smart, and still gives me hugs every time he sees me even though he's thirteen. He loves video games, and reading, Legos, and donettes covered in chocolate wax. Just a great kid.
But he's no hiker.
I thought of him a few times this week, wondering how he was holding up on that fifty mile hike. Every year, they've had a few boys just quit and go home and I didn't want this to happen to my nephew.
On Thursday, my husband took some time off school, along with one of my writer friend's husbands and they joined the hikers. I wasn't worried about my husband, even though he's been having trouble with his back. He's a hard core outdoor guy. Fifty miles is nothing for him. But I was still worried about Nephew. On the flip side, I felt a little better that Nephew and Husband would be together.
My Writer Friend (who I will now refer to as WF) informed me that she'd like to park at the end and hike up to meet her hubby but was worried about hiking with four kids alone. So I told her "I'll go with you and we can take eight kids!" I know--we're crazy, but I'd been wanting to hike with her for some time, and I knew we could do it.
As we were driving there, Husband calls on his cell and says, "Where are you? My water ran out a long time ago,"--not good as the temp has risen above ninety--"drive like the wind!" So we hurried. I realized that if he was thirsty, every one else was probably thirsty too. We stuffed all the kids pockets, a fanny pack and every spare hand, with a water bottle and headed up this awesome hike called, "Dragon's Tooth."
Maybe a half mile in we see the first of the crew. They looked haggard, but so happy to be almost done. I felt myself tearing up with a swell of pride. "Your husband isn't too far back," a friend said, so off we went again. Sure enough, here comes Husband, with a walking stick in each hand. I can tell his back hurts and he just wants to get to the bottom. "How far back is Nephew?," I asked him. "He's behind me somewhere," is all he says. I kiss him on the cheek and send him on his way. I look back to see my daughter heading back with him. I smile.
Not more then two minutes later, I see a lone scout scuffling down the hill. It shocked me a little to see a kid alone and I thought, "That's a brave one." I didn't recognize him at first but when we got closer, I realized, it's Nephew.
I yelled his name and ran up to him. He grinned at me real wide and I hugged him. He looked about ten pounds skinnier, but his sparkly eyes were just the same--well, with a nice sunburn on his neck. I hug him and tell him how proud of him I am. But I can tell he just wants to get to the bottom and collapse, so I give him a sentence or two of encouragement and send him on his way. I look back to see my son walking back with him. My kids are dropping out like flies, but it makes me happy that they've chosen to be with these people they love. Two kids left. One is hiking merrily along with his six year old buddy, the other--my toddler--is resting on my hip.
We keep hiking, trying to find WF's husband. We pass scout after scout and each time we ask if they know where her husband is. We get all kinds of different time estimates, so we keep walking. By now the sun has set and we know we need to turn back because it will be hard in the dark on the rocky terrain, with all these kids, even with flashlights. We push it as far as we can and then we leave four water bottles (the rest were consumed by the cute children hiking with us). We write a message in the dirt, with an arrow pointing to the water bottles and we hope they find them. As we head back, WF finishes regaling me with the next book in her trilogy, which I'm listening to with rapt attention. (It's going to be awesome--romance, action, bad guys, good guys) We reach the bottom in no time and the sunlight is fading. I realize that I carried a toddler the entire up-hill mile and back down again and it never really phazed me. Go P90X!
We stand around for a while with all the other mom's and wives but WF's husband is still not down. I think about leaving, but everyone is so supportive of each group that arrives--taking pictures and cheering--that I feel like it's important to stay so that every hiker has that kind of welcome. Because really, how anti-climactic would that be to hike that far only to be welcomed by one or two people.
We finally get word (by cell phone) that WF's hubby's group are at least past the water bottles, because they got them and say, "Tell whoever left them, that they are angels. They saved us!" I get a little teary eyed again.
Finally, forty or so minutes later, we see tiny little lights, dancing in the night, coming in our direction. WF's kids dart up to see if it's their dad and of course it is. A shout of cheering goes up and everyone is so happy. I'm happy we stayed, even though my kids are dirty and exhausted.
I realized that if any of those boys had quit, they would have felt like failures. But for the first time ever (or so I was told) not a single boy dropped out. Nephew admitted to me, "Aunt Sue-Sue (yes, my brother has trained all his kids to call me that), "I cried hard, four times." But that was okay. Did it make me any less proud of him. No. If it wasn't hard, it wouldn't have given him such a sense of accomplishment. One of the leaders asked if he would hike again next year and he said, "Yes." What would he have felt if he'd quit? Well, like a quitter. I'm going to get sappy now. It is easter, and conference weekend, after all. I love my Savior, Jesus Christ. When I think life is too hard, I just remind myself that He has never quit on me and I can never quit on Him. He didn't suffer so I could quit and it would all be for naught. That Atonement is for all of us who are determined to push through even when we twist our spiritual ankles, or our back hurts, or we have blisters, or we throw our hands up and cry.
Don't. Ever. Quit.
At ten o'clock we pulled into Nephew's driveway. He heaved his bag, and 'Ted' his trusty fifty-miler walking stick, out of the car and scuffled up the stairs. I watched from the street as he rang the doorbell. His mom threw the door open and the look on her face was priceless. Her smile was huge and beaming. She couldn't have been any prouder than the day she graduated from medical school. She pulled him into her arms and squeezed him tight. I couldn't hear what she was saying but I could see how proud she was. And, well, she should be. He didn't quit.
I wiped away another tear.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)